#honestly i thought about if ford would bring stan back for a long time

[anyydidi]

WRITING THIS POST BECAUSE I'M SO SICK OF PEOPLE MISCHARACTERIZING FORD!!!!!!!!!

Before we begin, everyone is entitled to their opinion. If you really think Ford wouldn't truly care, you do you.

That being said, I feel like people who claim that Ford wouldn't do a single thing to bring Stan back if their places were switched do not understand his character at all.

Don't get me wrong, I don't think that he would open the portal. At least not right away. The one thing I agree with is that Ford wouldn't put the life of his brother above the whole planet like Stan did. He realizes the threat of the portal and Bill too much to do that.

But have people forgotten that Ford also loves his brother? Yeah, he was angry, bitter and resentful, but he wouldn't have just let Stan die in the multiverse. Especially since that would be entirely his fault he got stuck there in the first place.

For people thinking, "But Ford was too blinded by rage! He didn't care for Stan until after Weirdmaggedon!", have you seen the show? Have you read the journal? Through everything that happened, Ford kept a photo (tattered and worn, obviously taken out a lot) of him and his brother in his left, inner breast pocket which is the one closest to the heart. If that wasn't enough, for those who haven't read the journal, Ford kept reminiscing about and mentioning his brother before the portal incident. Even though those lines were often crossed out, it was obvious that at least unconsiously he had Stan in mind a lot. And at the end of the journal, it is written that he worked day and night, to the point of passing out, to bring Stan's memories (and essencially Stan himself) back. (Oh and have we forgotten about the absolutely shattered expression he had when he erased Stan's memories? You don't look like that for a person you don't deeply care about).

Still not enough to believe that Ford cared about Stan before Stan's sacrifice?

Let's talk about the fact that when Ford was at his lowest, that being paranoid, sleep deprived, tortured by Bill, drowned in guilt, and completely alone, he reached out to Stan? He says it himself, "I needed help, someone I could trust." After everything, he still trusted Stan to an extent and believed him to be his last hope. You don't give trust like that to people you truly hate.

Ford was self-absorbed and egocentric, but also hurt and betrayed. That feeling came from a misconception, but that doesn't make it any less valid. It is understandable that he acted towards Stan the way he did, with venom and bitterness. But we can be angry at people we love and still care for their well-being.

How I said earlier, I don't think Ford would really open the portal. He wouldn't risk the entire world for Stanley. But I do think he would do anything in his power to be able to bring Stan back safely. You cannot be telling me that he'd be able to live with the guilt and not do anything about it if he could. After all, in his head, it would be his fault. He got tricked by Bill, he built the portal, he made Stan come to him and showed him the portal and he wasn't able to let go of the journal and fought Stan for it. I'm convinced he'd still throw some blame at Stan for some of the fight to make himself feel better at first, but after some time he would just blame himself completely (the same way I think Stan did with the science fair incident). The guilt for all of that would eat him alive.

Let's not forget, Stanley worked for 30 years, basically half his life to bring Stanford home and I believe Ford would be willing to do the same. He would just go about it differently. He would either try to get rid of the threat of Bill and then be willing to upgrade the portal and turn it on again, or maybe try to find a completely different way to get Stan back from the multiverse, or in the end something entirely different, I'm not fully sure.

What I am sure of is that Ford wouldn't just let Stan be stranded in the multiverse without doing absolutely nothing. Maybe he wouldn't succeed, maybe Stan would actually have to find his own way back home because Stanford wouldn't be able to find a solution without risking their entire universe. But Ford would at least try, give it his all, because despite everything, he still loves his brother. Differently than Stan loves him, because Ford is a different person than Stan, but he still does.

So I beg you, people. Stop taking Ford's complex character from him. He can be a selfish, self-centered asshole, but he's not heartless.

[talekinesis]

I need Stan and Ford to see their mom again

Like let's say she's still alive and in her 80s, she's in a wheelchair (ambulatory, she has customized canes) she still lives in their old home because a part of her hoped Stanford would come back, and she didn't want to leave their home, so he'd know where to go back to.

She wanted to stay put in case Ford came back.

So imagine her shock when both her boys come back home to her

Obviously Stan immediately starts apologizing for faking his death, putting her through grief, her arranging and attending his funeral, but she stops him like "I'd much rather it be fake than real." That's her baby boy, back from the dead, something most people don't get, so to her it's a miracle.

Her Jersey accent is thick, and it actually brings out the twins' accents that had faded over time (Stan's sounds natural to him since he always retained it a little, but everyone finds it funny when Ford's accent comes back because he just doesn't seem like the type to speak like that)

THEY MOVE HER INTO THE SHACK

The boys wanna take care of their mama and keep her around since it's been so long, and Caryn is delighted to be moved out of a loud city with rough memories and into a quiet little town where the people are odd but nice. Ford and Stan both work together to make the Shack accessible for her. Ford actually sat in her wheelchair to test everything and make sure she could get around on her own.

They catch her up on everything, and at first they don't think she'll fully believe them but she's like "Stanford built an international portal and got lost for 30 years? Stanley took his place and turned his home into tourist trap? Yeah, that seems like something my boys would do."

When she learns Stan taught himself engineering to re-build the portal, she's obviously very proud of him. "You were never dumb, Stanley, ya just learned different. Honestly, I always thought ya had A-D-H-D but Pa never wanted ya tested. But look how smart and creative ya turned out, son! I think ya did good." And Stan is definitely not crying.

Personal headcanon: Caryn was also really smart and picked up on things quick. The boys had to have gotten it from somewhere, and it wasn't Filbrick. He just took the credit because 1) he was the worst, and 2) times were different back then and no one would have really taken her seriously. But she's the one who would fix things around the house since she taught herself how to keep the place together and running since Filbrick wouldn't pay anyone to come and repair anything.

Imagine little Stan standing behind her with a flashlight while she fixes the wiring in the wall because an outlet stopped working. Both of the boys helping her while she fixes the car for the third time that week because it keeps breaking down. Mama Pines taught herself how to keep things up and running because no one else would or could.

Caryn meets Mabel and Dipper when they come back in the summer, and Mabel is THRILLED

She's technically met them before but they were still newborns at the time so they don't remember her, and she hadn't gotten a chance to see who they'd become

Mabel makes her a sweater and she wears it with pride. And I really think it would go like that scene from Elemental

Caryn: You made this?

Mabel: Oh, yeah, it's nothing-

Caryn: Nothin? Babygirl, my designer dresses were made by 'nothin.' Oh sweetie, you have got to do somethin' with this skill. And to think, I have an original 'Mabel Pines.'

And don't think I'm leaving Dipper out of this, he gets his great-grandma's attention too. She loves talking to him and listening to him tell stories about the monsters they've encountered in the past. She sees a lot of Ford in him, but she also sees a lot of Stan in him in other ways.

I think Dipper's love for "girly" music is something Stan used to share before Filbrick "disciplined" him for it. Child Stan used to sit in the kitchen with his Ma and sing along to the radio, usually listening to whatever she had put on.

Now all three of them sit in the kitchen and listen to the radio while Stan cooks.

Ford feeling like a failure for putting everyone in danger, and Caryn just goes, "Come talk to your mama." And he does. He goes and talks to his mama, like he always has in the past. She's in her 80s and they're grown men in their late 50s, but she's still their mom, and you never really quit being a mom.

I might actually write a short fic about this, I love it so much.

[thelastspeecher]

I'm obsessed with the storm chaser au and Ford in it.

-what if from the tornado and injury he has a metal joint and can always tell when it's about to rain? The lumberjacks think this is so cool until he starts freaking out because it's gonna be a bad storm tonight

-the first time Stan sees "Bill" during a thunderstorm he doesn't really know what to do to calm him down maybe compared to Ford's new partner, who's probably used to this. Probably makes him feel even more disconnected from his twin and who he's become

-the memories come back in sort of deja vu moments and it takes a while to tell what he's remembering and feeling versus what he's been told. It's almost a relief when he gets to Angie and she's like "nope I'm brand new but i did hear a drunken story where you did something stupid in the 80s" and there's someone who knows about who he was pretty much how he does - vaguely, in stories

-Fidds is handling all of this *so* well.... Also Stan and Angie, here's a bunch of new equipment and I tricked out the van again :) (he works through emotion by building things and if that means they have new stuff while he takes out his frustrations on this piece of metal so be it)

-Bill Wood and Manly Dan (although he'll always be boyish to "Bill") are drinking buddies.

Aaaaaaaahhhhhh I was so psyched to see such a long ask! I love all your thoughts and ideas, they're so great!

Ooh, a metal joint? Maybe almost something analogous to the metal plate he gets in his head in canon... I like it. He's hurt bad enough by being dropped by the tornado that he needs some sort of joint replacement. I'm thinking...a knee? And he would definitely be able to feel storms rolling in with that. But yeah he gets really worked up whenever a particularly bad storm is about to hit.

Hmm perhaps the storm that Stan and Co were chasing fizzled out, but a new one pops up unexpectedly while they're still in Gravity Falls, and that's when Stan sees "Bill" freak out during the storm. And is completely unable to help him, whereas, yes, Ford's partner is able to calm him down. It definitely makes Stan feel weird and out of touch. And maybe even makes Stan worry that trying to bring Ford back into his life is the wrong thing to do. "Bill" is his brother, but in many ways he isn't Ford anymore.

Oh yeah, Ford's memories don't all come rushing back. It's a bit by bit thing. And I can imagine Ford getting concerned by having zero memories triggered by Angie (well, maybe some Fiddleford memories, since they are siblings that look very similar lol). Until Angie says she's never met him before and is honestly surprised by him now that she has. He doesn't fit the stories she's heard at all.

(And drunken story from the 80s...akjlndsfkjldafs yeah Angie would definitely tell him that one. If only to lighten the mood a bit.)

LMAO YES Fiddleford trying to avoid actually dealing with the situation by just turning to more robots and machinery and fixing things and making them better and no Fiddleford we've told you the toaster is fine STOP MESSING WITH IT. He puts on a brave face and acts like nothing's wrong, but Angie and Stan see right through it. Angie's just. So done with these boys. This was supposed to be an easy, fast trip. Now Stan is upset and complaining about how Ford isn't Ford anymore, Fiddleford won't stop building dangerous things and fixing things that don't need to be fixed, and they've been staying in a crappy motel room for a week.

HELL YEAH BILL AND DAN DRINKING BUDDIES. OMG "Bill" having an almost big brotherly relationship towards Dan. Dan might be a lot bigger than him, but "Bill" remembers when Dan was just starting to grow a beard and needed someone to guide him when he began his formal lumberjack career. Or something along those lines.

Stan's just another level of upset by Ford's close connection to the lumberjack community.

(And Stan's claiming to not be upset by how much stronger and buffer Ford is than him now, but he's lying.)

[artist-in-an-ugly-sweater]

So- people seem to be curious about what happened prior to the drawing I made of gar grunkle Stan and sphynx Ford, thus I decided to try some writing? Just a short to explain what is going on. If it gets too long and boring for anyone who's curious about the story to that picture can simply scroll down all the way. I'll put a summary there so I don't spoil anything to someone who'd like to read through this.

Now, without any further ado, let us begin!

Stone cold treatment

a "short" monsterfalls story

Stone. One of the thing a living creature would never like to be. Alive, but not really, trapped underneath a shell of stone. Able to hear, able to feel everything, yet unable to do anything about what you heard or felt. That was how he'd been feeling ever since the first time he turned to stone. It was natural for a gargoyle like himself, thus one would think he is be able to control it, right? But he was not. Ever since he turned into a gargoyle, Stanley Pines simply couldn't control this new ability of his; the ability of turning to stone. The first time it happened, it was a brand new, terrifying experience, and it was honestly no different each time it happened without his control. This one time, however, it was a bazillion times worse.

His nephew Dipper and worker Wendy were hanging out in the back yard of the Shack when it happened. He was sitting there on the porch by his niece, Mabel, who was basking in her small pool, cheering for her brother and Wendy. The two of them had been having a hard time adjusting to their new forms, too, but honestly, who hadn't? Dipper had trouble walking, thus he required quite the bit of practice. It took him a while to even make it to the back yard. Luckily, he had his family and friends to help him out once he quit his "I can do it on my own" phase of his walks. That was partially why Wendy was there. She was helping him walk, watching over the cervitaur and his attempts to get a hang of walking on fours. It was for her own benefit, too. Wendy was a werewolf and ever since her transformation had trouble handling herself when it came to wildlife. She'd been struggling with pouncing and attacking things that seemed huntable, making it especially hard to keep it cool around Dipper who was half deer.

She honestly wanted to stop seeing Dipper and giving up her job at the Shack just to keep him safe. She would've done it if it wasn't for Grunkle Stan, who encouraged her and convinced her to try and get a hold of her new wild tendencies. He promised to provide supervision over the two in case something went wrong, but fortunately, everything had been going smoothly. Soon enough, Dipper's slow trots turned into faster paces back and forth with Wendy by his side. “You're doing great, deer brother!” Mabel cheered, giggling over her own joke. Wendy gave a light laugh whilst Dipper's cheeks flushed a tint of red as he yelled back: “Not funny when you say it all the time, Mabel!” “Come 'ere you dork! ” Wendy laughed as she ruffled the cervitaur's hair, receiving quite the nervous laugh in response from the now bright red boy. Stan gave a light chuckle himself. Everyone was having fun. There was nothing to worry about, he thought. For once after this huge change in his and everyone's lives, Stan felt at peace. He felt like he could rest without things turning against him. Close his eyes and...relax. And so he did. Stan let his eyes close, leaning back into the backrest of the scruffy couch on the porch gently, minding his wings as he didn't lean in completely.

The next thing he knew, however, he heard a yell. His niece was yelling for help. “Grunkle Stan!! Grunkle Stan, do something!!” she cried, but to no avail. Her great uncle Stan gave no response, simply resting upon the cushions of the couch without a single twitch despite what was going on. Despite the loud snarling, growling and yelling of both his niece and nephew who begged for help. It was happening again. His eyes wouldn't open, his arms and legs wouldn't listen, but he could hear it. He could hear it all. The terror in Dipper's voice as he yelled “Wendy stop! P-please!!”; the dismay in Mabel's voice as she begged for her grunkle to do something- anything! Mabel herself couldn't do much. She was a mermaid and she couldn't leave her pool just like that. It were times like these that she wished she'd turned into something alike to Dipper, with an extra pair of legs instead of none. Stan began to panic. He couldn't see, say or do anything despite how much he tried to. The stony shell he'd formed once he relaxed his body held him prisoner, making him listen helplessly as his nephew was chased about, getting hurt- or worse. It was alike to a nightmare in which you couldn't do anything to save the day, only watch as your loved ones were taken away. Or in Stan's case, listen.

It wasn't till he heard the door fly open by his side and his niece cry out his brother's name that a brief wave of relief washed over him. “Grunkle Ford!!” Mabel called as her great uncle Ford rushed out of the house, ready to tackle whatever danger his grandniece and nephew stood against. A roar from the Sphinx, cries and whining followed and then – silence. Everything went silent. Was it over? Was everyone alright?

Stan felt his panic ease up along with the stone keeping him in place. Hearing it crackle, he didn't hesitate another second and broke free, lunging forth. He caught his balance and stepped out towards what he assumed was his nephew, brother and Wendy, his vision blurry at first. He could see it all clearly within a moment's notice: his brother, standing tall with Dipper cradled in his arms, Wendy pinned under one of his feet.

“Dear Mozes! Are ya kids alright?! Dipper, are ya--” Stan exclaimed in concern as he approached almost instantly, receiving a piercing glare from his brother that made him stop in his tracks. Ford looked mad, mad at him, but for what? He didn't do anything wrong- “Stanley what were you thinking? Do you have any idea what could've- no, what would've happened if I weren't near by?? You've left the children unsupervised and you know how troublesome it is with the young Corduroy these days!” Ford yelled in his Stan's face, who simply stared down at the bloody wound on Dipper's side held by his brother in silence. “I am sorry, it wasn' intentional! I-I've been watchin' the kids, I swear! I jus'- i-it happened again and I- ya know I can't control it!” “Well then maybe you should!” “W-wha-” “Maybe you should know how to control it! Maybe you should do your best to learn to control it instead of sitting around, drinking soda and watching as your nephew gets torn to shreds!! Quit acting like a child and be the adult these children need you to be!” With that, neither of them spoke no more, only exchanged looks. A look of disappointment and anger piercing through that of defeat and guilt. Mabel watched silently as the two older twins parted their ways.

Ford made his way inside to tend to Dipper's wound while Stan took care of Wendy, then his niece, bringing her into a small preset pool in the living room. He said nothing when Mabel tried to tell him it was not his fault, because he knew better. It was his and his fault only. He offered to watch them and he failed. After bringing Mabel some snacks for the time she'd have to wait for his and her brothers' return from the bathroom, he left, not to be seen again for the rest of the day.

The shack was silent from there. Mabel was already fast asleep by the time Ford returned with his nephew bandaged up and asleep in his arms. He set the cervitaur into the armchair by Mabel's side, putting a blanket over him before he left for his room, making sure the shack was locked and secure before he himself retired to sleep.

The next day started alike to any other day. Ford went down into his study in the early morning like he always did, trying to find a way to reverse the effects of the mythical river Fluvius Cantus on himself, his family, and the whole town. It was around 10 AM that his niece called out for him upstairs. Bless his enhanced hearing on this one, for her call sounded once again like an emergency.

“I am coming!” The sphinx yelled as he rushed upstairs, only to find Mabel's call was not quite due to what he imagined. He found his niece and nephew in the living room, both awake and, inarguably, worried. The two of them were surrounded by the packets of snacks Stan had brought them yesterday, and shortly, Mabel was explaining why accordingly to Ford's questions. “What is the problem children? Did something happen? What's with all the packets?” “Grunkle Ford, Grunkle Stan hasn't shown up since yesterday!” “Yeah, we're worried.” Dipper added weakly. “He left me some snacks yesterday while I was waiting for you and Dipper and I haven't seen him since! We had to eat those for breakfast when he didn't show up to make some...” “Grunkle Stan never leaves just like that,” “Not without rambling about his 'evil' plans for the day,” “Wendy hasn't shown up, either, do you have any idea where the two of them could've gone?” Dipper asked, shooting his grunkle a worried look.

Stan was missing? He knew where the young Corduroy had gone- earlier that morning, she'd called to apologize for yesterday to which Ford advised her to take some time off and try meditation to handle her inner demons. Stan, however, had no reason to be missing. “I've told your friend Wendy to take some time off and gather herself, but I have no knowledge of my brother's whereabouts. Perhaps he'd left to commit some sort of misdeed of his, or restock for the Shack, who knows.” Ford commented, crossing his arms behind his back in thought. “Could you please look for him Grunkle Ford? Pretty please?” Mabel pleaded, holding her hands together as she puppy-eyed her great uncle. Ford was powerless against those eyes. “I suppose I could take a look around the Shack...” he murmured. “YAY! Thanks Grunkle Ford!” Mabel exclaimed, beaming. Dipper smiled lightly as the two of them watched their great uncle leave to check the shack for Stan, awaiting his return while turning on some Duck-tective to shorten their wait, although the two of them chattered about their Grunkle in worry for the main part, anyways.

Ford searched the whole interior of the shack in search for his brother. The bathroom, the attic, the bedrooms, museum, everywhere. It was when his search inside was in vein that he walked outside to look there. Fortunately for him, he could very easily look over the entire shack by taking a soar through the sky. Spreading his wings wide as he stepped out at the back of the shack, he was about to take off when he spot something with the corner of his eye. There he was. There was no mistaking the gargoyle statue settled atop the roof looming over the porch. Wheeling around, Ford looked up to his brother, closing his wings as he spoke. “You've been here this whole time? Hiding like a child? Stanley, the children are worried sick. I searched the entire shack in attempts to calm their concerns. Did you even think about that? About them?” He questioned, yet his twin gave no response. “You won't talk to me, will you? Well I don't have to bother, either. I shall tell Mabel and Dipper about your whereabouts. If you have any sort of conscience you'll come down and apologize. Don't leave the children waiting.” And once again, the older twin was on his leave, coming inside to inform his niece and nephew of Stan's safety.

Throughout the rest of the day, the twins were expecting their Grunkle intently, although to no avail. He didn't show up for the rest of the day, leaving Ford to take care of the twins on his own. The next day went down alike to the last one. No Stan, only Ford, having to drop his daily research to care for the twins. Change Dipper's bandages, check his wounds, change the water in Mabel's pool, feed the two, all that and more. He never thought his brother did so much for the kids and didn't just slack off. There were times the children asked to see their other great uncle, and so, eventually, Ford did bring the two of them outside to show them their Grunkle Stan. Nothing. Despite their attempts to call out to their Grunkle, the twins didn't get a response, either. It pained them to see their Grunkle like that, for they knew how much he disliked when he turned to stone, yet they knew that this time, it was possibly his own choice. Nonetheless, though, they couldn't help but ask a few questions. “Is this permanent?” “Is Grunkle Stan alright?” they questioned almost in sync. It was when Ford realised that, honestly “I don't know...” He had no idea whether his brother was ok, whether he was going to be alright, whether he would stay like this forever. The fact that the last thing he said to him was that he was pretty much a horrible caretaker with tendencies beyond childish didn't help him feel any better. This could all actually be his fault. Stan came out here and turned to stone just because he thought how worthless he was. It only made sense. He'd probably have to apologize to get him off the roof eventually, for the kids' sake if anything. Maybe he just needed some time? “Let's get you two back indoors, I'll find a way to get your great uncle off the roof.”

And with that, the three of them headed back inside. Soon enough, Ford tucked the twins in, although he couldn't quite sleep himself. He kept on thinking about Stanley, whether he should or shouldn't apologize. He was still angry about his brother's habits, but thinking about it now, Stanley really didn't mean it. He was in no control of what happend, and what happened happened. Perhaps he could help him control it? Help him meditate and learn how to take cont- BOOM! The loud sound of thunder interrupted his train of thought. It was past midnight when the storm struck up, waking up the twins upstairs. “AAAAH!!! Grunkle Ford!!” They screamed. Ford ran out of his room almost immediately, rushing up into the twins' bedroom to check up on the two. “Don't worry kids! It's just a storm... It'll be over shortly.” Ford said as he came into the room, trying to comfort the two. “B-but Grunkle Ford, Grunkle Stan is still outside! Could you please go check on him?“ Mabel asked with worry in her pleading eyes. It seemed they were not afraid of the storm itself, but afraid of what could happen to their Grunkle.

“Alright, stay here, I'll be back shortly.” Without any further hesitation, Ford left the shack for the back yard, stopping in front of the porch. With a light flap of his wings, he brought himself to the rooftop his brother sat upon, landing by his side as the rain slowly drenched his clothes. “Stanley!” Stanford called, grumbling lowly as another lightning struck, shaking the ground with its shortly following thunder. Frowning, the older twin spread a wing out over his brother to shield him off from the rain, leaning forward in attempts to see into his brother's face. “Stanley, the children are worried, quit this little act and get inside!” No response. Sighing, Ford settled down by Stan's side, keeping a wing spread overhead to keep him out of the heavy rain, although to a stone statue, it mattered none. Glancing aside, Stanford grumbled, setting his hands into his lap as he began his little confrontation. “Quit acting like a child, Stanley, it’s been three days... I am sorry, okay? I know you can't control it. I know you couldn't when Wendy attacked Dipper and I know it wasn't your intention. The things you do for the kids, the way you treat them... I know you would never intentionally stone yourself and let them get hurt. I was angry, I was afraid. Afraid of what could've happened if I hadn't come in time. I am sorry that I blamed you for something out of your control. Please, come inside and stop punishing yourself like this. I can try to help you with controlling it, help you learn how to prevent it just...please don't do this to yourself... To the kids... To me...” Receiving no response, the older twin looked down helplessly, giving a heavy sigh. “I-” “What do ya think I've been doing?” Ford started, only to be cut off by- Stanley. Dazed by the sudden response, the sphinx had a hard time speaking again, stammering. “W-w--what do you mean..?” “I am not stupid, Ford. I know I have no control over it, and I know I shoulda learn how to control it. So I've been here, tryin' ta' learn how ta' do it.” Stan explained as he lowered his wings, the stony shell around him crackling and falling off slowly, leaving the gargoyle dry and refreshed. “W-wait- so you are...you were not doing this to punish yourself...? You were not angry with me?” Ford questioned as the two of them met eyes. “Oh, no no, I was angry with ya, Poindexter. Glad ya figured ya'd come apologize now. I was about ta' give up to da rain. Don't get me wrong, da rain's nice, but the thunder part of it all is unnecessary.” “...So you were childishly ignoring me.” “Maaaybe?” This received Stan a light shove and almost immediately after a tight hug around the neck with a nuggie that almost instantly threw his fez off into his lap. “You little!-” “Little what?!” Stan exclaimed in between his chuckles, tackling his brother off the roof with laughter. It was a safe fall for the two of them, leaving them playfully rolling about in the mud on the ground as they laughed together, soon sitting up with light chuckles and huff while the rain slowly washed bits of the mud away. “Sixer?” “Yes, Stanley?” “Sorry fer actin' like an oversized kid.” “Heh... Sorry for acting like an adult know-it-all.” “Apology accepted.” “I suppose I need to ease up a little.” “I guess I need ta' grow up a little.” The two of them said in sync, laughing before smiling at eachother.

“GRUNKLE STAN!! GRUNKLE FORD!! ARE YOU GUYS-- oh...” The cervitaur kicking the back door of the shack yelled, carrying his sister on his back. The two of them were sure they'd just seen the two of them argue and fall off the roof in a scuffle- then again, it was hard to actually make out what they were saying through the window. “Dipper my boy, you-- you made it down the stairs? On your own? With Mabel on your back?” “I-” Dipper blushed. “Y-yeah I- I guess I just uh- we needed to check on you guys and- I am sorry I didn't listen-” “Don't be sorry, Dipper, you listened to your instincts and those told you your family might be in trouble. You acted very selflessly. I would've done the same. I am proud of you.” The sphinx and the cervitaur exchanged a smile, although it was soon replaced by an expression of shock as Mabel yelled: “Could you guys stop nerding out about this and focus on the important stuff?!” “Ouch-” Dipper huffed. “Grunkle Stan is back! And you guys made up! But uh- we should get inside. You guys could catch a cold and I am gonna *huff* I am gonna suffocate here.” “Ah- yes, let's get all back inside, quickly. Dipper, I'll need to check your bandages! Stanley, could you take care of Mabel?” “Sure thing Poindexter!” With that, the two of them stood, coming up to cradle their respective twins in their arms to care for them inside.

Getting a little moisture from her great uncle's wet suit, Mabel smiled as she was carried towards her pool, looking up to her Grunkle with a murmur: “I am glad you're back Grunkle Stan.” “I am glad ta' be back, too.”

WELP- Here you have it guys! This was one hell of a ride. It's the longest and the first thing I ever wrote and actually published. Is it good? Is it not? Who knows! I tried to keep it as short as possible. Hope you guys like the answer to what happened prior this picture:

Either way, hope you're having a swell day!

And as for the promised summary:

Summary: Grunkle Stan and the kids have a little accident with Dipper and Wendy, which Grunkle Stan sits through, being in his stone form. This angers Ford and he tells him to learn how to control it. From there, Stan disappears and is nowhere to be found, only to be later discovered on the roof in his statue form. He is irresponsive, everyone os worried, but in the end, everything turns out well.

[imgoingtohellsofuckit]

Dipper Pines Is Bad At Romance pt 2

Adult Dipper x reader

warnings - nothing

summary - After a couple dates Mable things the Dipper and his gal might not go anywhere with their relationship- she was wrong

"So you had a ghost hunting date?" Stan asks as Dipper recounts the date at family dinner.

"Wow she really is perfect for you huh?" Wendy asks as she dips her fry in the ketchup, "Mable you're really killing it at the match making thing lately."

"Why thank you," Mable says with a bow, "I'm really proud of this one. I mean she's a nerd. He's a nerd."

"Hey!" Dipper exclaims.

"So when do we get to meet her?" Ford asks teasing lightly.

"Uhh isn't it a little too soon to ask that of her?" Dipper says nervously, "I mean we had one date."

Before anyone else can say anything his phone starts to buzz loudly.

"Oh no oh no," Dipper says in pure panic, "it's her oh god what do I say?"

"Answer it!" Wendy yells.

He moves answering the call.

"Hey Y/n whats up?" He asks awkwardly. She chuckles lightly on the other line.

"Hey Dipper- last nights ghost hunting date was amazing! I had a lot of fun," She says brightly.

"Yeah yeah I had a lot of fun," He says nervously.

"Listen I'm going into the woods to help the the gnome police catch big time guy in the butterfly trafficking game," Y/n explains, "I'd really like it if you'd come. Something tells me you'd be a excellent adventure buddy. I know it's soon but second date time?"

"Yeah yeah of course," Dipper answers, "What time?"

"Ten minutes," She replies, "think you can be ready by then?"

"Oh yeah of course"

"Good then I'll stop by- bring a net."

As he hangs up the entire table looks to him carefully.

"So?"

"I have another date in ten minutes."

"Really?" Wendy asks.

"Ah we need to get you ready!" Mable screams, "what kinda date?"

"Stopping butterfly trafficking," Dipper says, "what do you wear for that?"

"Something comfortable," Ford answers.

Dipper got ready. And the date was amazing! They caught the Butterfly Trafficker and it worked out super well. Soon after they went on their third date to check out a hunter theater. And then their fourth date to investigate a series of merepeople kidnappings. Fifth date they taught chess to aliens. Dipper thought they were having a great time. He hadn't had this much fun since his first summer in gravity falls. It was great. But the others weren't so convinced.

"Have you guys done anything other than investigate things?" Wendy asks.

"No not exactly," Dipper says as he looks at the picture of him and his date with the aliens. "But we have fun."

"Yeah but you guys aren't really doing date things," Mable says softly, "I mean you might as well be dating Soos at this point."

"You guys thought the ghost hunting was a perfect date what's different now?" Dipper asks the two girls.

"Well all of your dates are like that I mean have you guys kissed? Or even like held hands?" Wendy asks.

"No not exactly," Dipper says softly, "man do you think she doesn't actually like me?"

"I don't know," Mable says, "how about you take her on a real date?"

Before he can answer his phone starts to ring.

"Deja vu," Wendy says softly.

"Hey?" Dipper says as he answers the phone, "whats up?"

"Hey Dip! Me. You. In a vampire coven tonight," Y/n says excitedly, "I wanna get some notes and I don't think their is anyone else I'd rather go with-"

"Uh actually I was thinking we go out to eat tonight-"

"What? Why would we do that?" She asks, "we can go hang out with vampires! How could you pass that up!"

"Yeah- alright."

"I'll bring the garlic!"

As the call ends Mable sighs.

"Oh Dipper-"

"What I really like her and she clearly wants to do this!"

"Sure sure."

He didn't need to hear the criticism. Because instead of enjoying this blooming romance he was ready to call it all off. She didn't like him did she? No he was right  there is no way a girl like her could be into a guy like him.

"Hey Dipper," Y/n calls as she makes her way towards Dipper.

His face turns red as he looks at her appearance. She has a nice dress on and her hair's actually been styled rather than it being put up.

"Hey Y/n," He replies, "you look really nice."

"Thanks," She smiles, "apparently there is a ball at the coven. You got a tux?"

"Oh yeah I'll go get changed."

She nods. As he moves off Mable looks at her carefully.

"Do you actually like my brother?"

"What?"

"Do you actually like him?"

"Yeah I really like him- Mable why are you asking me?" Y/n asks the girl clearly confused, "I mean we go on dates all the time."

"No you go and work and take him with you-"

"Because it's what we both enjoy."

"And you show no attraction to him-"

"What?"

"Why haven't you tried to kiss him?"

"Mable what?"

"Why not?"

"I uh well," Y/n's face goes bright red, "I want to I really do but every time I try I mess it up."

"What?"

"I really want to do the cutesy romantic stuff but it's super awkward and I'm so nervous so before I can do anything I panic and go back to what i know- investigating," She says slightly embarrassed, "am I ruining everything?"

"Just maybe try to do something romantic tonight."

"I'll try," She says. Dipper returns obviously nervous. Y/n waves to him. "you look dashing!"

"Thanks," Dipper replies, "you ready to go?"

"Ready when you are!"

She moves leading them both to her jeep. On their first date she went on and on about how the jeep is the perfect vehicle for her job since she can take it anywhere. Dipper thought it was cute.

"Alright," Y/n says as they arrive, "garlic pills. Take them now. If they bite you they won't last long enough to turn you. Now we were invited to help them keep the peace and make sure the zombies and werewolves don't try anything."

"Have you met the vampires before?"

"Yeah I have a friend in here. His names Romeo. He gets me into all the fancy vampire events," She explains then takes the garlic pills, "doesn't mean they won't bite if I get annoying."

"Fair enough."

"Come on!" She says taking his hand tightly. As they walk into the ball Dipper's amazed with scene around him. Hundreds of vampires have collected together. Most in very outdated formal clothes others wearing modern formal clothes.

"Y/n!" A guy calls as he and a woman move towards them. The man has extremely pale skin and two fangs sticking out from his mouth, the girl is a lot more tan although she too has the needle like fangs.

"Romeo!" Y/n says as she moves to hug the two. As she pulls back she looks to Dipper.

"Dipper this is Romeo and his Wife Juliet, Romeo, Juliet this is my date Dipper," Y/n says introducing the group.

"Romeo and Juliet like the play," Dipper says, "fun."

"Well her name was originally Ann but when she turned she wanted something more dramatic," Romeo shares, "so how did you two meet?"

"His sister," She tells them, "she set us up. Kinda."

"We'll let you have fun," Juliet says moving her husband off. Y/n turns to Dipper and smiles.

"Well lets get out notes."

The vampires give Y/n whatever she needs. Dipper admires how she works in this. The vampires really seem to trust her. All of the creatures they've worked with seem to trust her.

"Hey Dip," She says looking over at the brunet, "I know this has been a lot of work and no real fun. So wanna dance?"

"Yeah that sounds great," He answers. She moves pulling him to the dance floor. As they move together to the music she sighs loudly.

"I really like you," She says honestly, "I'm sorry if I haven't seemed like it. I've just been so nervous. I mean you're a great guy and I just don't wanna mess this up."

"You're afraid of messing this up? Wow- No that sounds bad what I mean is I'm terrified of messing this up and I was so worried-"

"You were worried? Wow we both are so nerdy." They both chuckle lightly. "I like you dipper and I've been had so much fun with you these last couple weeks. So wanna go out with me?"

"Yes," He answer, "obviously." She chuckles. Then moves pulling him into a soft kiss. He's shocked at first but that all fades away as he melts into the kiss. As she pulls away both their faces turn bright red. "Wow- i hope you know I've been in two relationships my entire life and I don't know what to do at pretty much any point of this."

"We'll figure this out together."

[mo12mo29]

Queen of Dreams  Chapter 3: First Words

Carla is babysitting Emma while the boys are out doing their own thing.

Notes: I honestly am a little salty with Carla after that one specific episode (not gonna say which one) so I am gonna do a little bashing on her. I'm also gonna add in a bit of Emma's point of view since she is a little older to the point where she can decipher whether she likes someone or not.

A year has gone by and Emma was already getting so big. She was only one and she already knew how to walk, thanks to Stanford teaching her. Stanley never thought he's see the day when his own twin squealing like a girl and jumping up and down in excitement when Emma first started taking her first steps. Stanley was excited too, but not as excited as Stanford was. He guessed that being accomplished in teaching a one year old how to walk brings out that kind of reaction. Today, Caryn and Filbrick were out of town, leaving Stanford and Stanley to take care of Emma. The boys still needed some help since their parents were gonna be gone for two weeks so they called their older brother Shermie, who came into town a month ago, and he said that he would come over to help out. He still had a few hour drive and the boys had to leave for their after school activities. Stanley had to go to boxing practice and Stanford had to go to his science club. Luckily, Stan's girlfriend, Carla said that she would babysit Emma for a while.

Which brings them to the present. Emma was playing on the floor with her toys while Carla was on the phone with one of her friends. If Emma was being honest with herself, she didn't really like Carla at all. Whenever she was around, she would take all of Stanley's attention, give her disgusted looks when she looks at Emma's hair, and say nasty things about her under her breath when no one is listening. Plus, Carla was no fun! She wouldn't even play with Emma whenever she came over! She would just brush her off and either flirt with Stan, or be on the phone all day. Tonight was gonna be even worse, while Emma was playing with a block, she heard Carla talking on the phone with someone, but the sound of the voice didn't sound feminine at all, it sounded like a male's voice.

"Yeah...Yeah, he's gone and they won't be back in an hour. Don't worry about the baby, she's only one, she's a dumb baby." 'Dumb baby'!?  Emma wanted to bite Carla's fingers off. She knew enough words to know that those words were insulted. Just because she was a baby it does not mean she was dumb.

"Be here in ten minutes, don't forget to bring the cigarettes okay? Love you." Woah, wait! A stranger is coming over!? Carla just invited a complete stranger over! Emma did not like the sound of a stranger coming in the house.

Ten minutes later, there was a knock on the door. Carla picked Emma up from the floor, ignore Emma's struggle to get out of her hold, and went to open the door. There was a man with blond hair and looked close to Carla's age

"Tim, you're here!" Carla reached up and kissed him on the lips. Emma was confused. Why was Carla kissing another guy? Didn't she love Stan? When they parted, Tim looked at Emma and said,

"Carla, I don't feel comfortable smoking in front of a baby. Can't you put her in a crib in another room or something?"

"Oh, don't worry, it's about time for her to go to bed anyway." Carla said as she went upstairs, but it was difficult with Emma squirming and whining in her arms. Finally having enough, Carla just went into the room beside her and opened a closest door.

"Now listen here you little brat." She snarled as she placed Emma down into the closet, "You are gonna sit right here like a good little girl and stay quiet." After that, Carla slammed the closet door on Emma, leaving her in a tight dark space. Emma couldn't see a thing and it was frightening being in a dark place all alone. She stood up the best she could and placed her little hands on the door and started banging her hands on them as she cried out. But it did not seem like anyone was gonna hear her so the only thing she could do was sit and wait. She sat back down and sobbed quietly.

"I want my big brothers." She thought to herself.

After waiting in the dark for almost an hour, Emma was about to doze off when she suddenly heard a voice.

"Where's my sister!?" The voice sounded angry, angry and....familiar, wait...wasn't that?

"Stanny!"  Emma stood up and started banging on the closet door again. She stopped after her hands got sore. After a few minutes of silence she heard footsteps coming towards the closet. The door opened and once Emma adjusted to the light, she saw a face, a face she thought she would never see again.

"Emma! Are you okay!?" Stanley asked as he picked her up from the closet. Emma just clung to Stanley as she cried. Stanley started to inspect her for injuries, and saw that she has minor bruises on her tiny body that were possibly from all the objects pushing against her body. He also saw that her hands were a little red from banging on the door so much. Stan wanted to be pissed, but right now he had a sister to comfort. No doubt that being in the dark for so long in a tight space was not comforting to a one year old. With that, Stanley hugged her tightly and patter her back.

"I know, I know. What did she do to you? It will never happen again." Emma believed every word. She knew that she was safe

As it turns out, Stanley, Stanford, and Shermie all came home earlier and when Stanley saw Carla in the hands of another man, he was pissed at first, but then he realized that someone was missing. After he realizing that Emma was not present, everything about Carla was thrown out the window. He became angry for another reason Which lead them to the present, the guy that Carla was with left the house, which leaves Carla, Stanley, Stanford, and Shermie. Emma was in Stanley's arms, Shermie was lecturing Carla, and Stanford was off to the side, glaring at Carla.

"Carla, we are gonna call your parents and have them know what happened and we will be pressing charges." Carla looked at Shermie in disbelief.

"You can't do that! They'll never let me leave the house again, they might even force me to spend the night in jail!"

"Should have thought about that before shutting our sister in a closet for hours." Carla stared at Shermie for a second before turning to Stanley.

"Stan! You're just gonna let him do that to me!? Look, if this is about that guy, he's nothing." Stanley just gave Carla a cold look, then he scoffed.

"Carla, I am not your dad. I can't tell you who you can and can't be with and honestly, I don't care. What you did was crossing the line. As soon as you're gone, you better stay gone. I don't know what gave you the idea of stuffing a one year old in a closet. Emma's just a baby."

"So you're gonna just choose your sister over me?!" Carla shouted.

"Choose? Carla, I never had to choose because my sister was always gonna be important to me, she is always gonna be my number one gal because unlike you, she's loyal! Another thing, who smokes around a baby!? You could have gotten Emma sick! I want you out of our house, and out of my life because she-" Stanley pointed to Emma, who was hiding her face in his neck, "Is the only girl I need in my life." Tears were streaming down Carla's face as her eyes were wide with shock, then she turned and walked towards the door. When she opened it, she slightly turned.

"You're gonna end up a lonely man if you keep choosing your sister over everything." Stanley's scowl only deepened as he answered.

"Then I rather be a lonely man than be with someone who hurts my family." Seeing that he was done talking, Carla went out the door, her sniffling getting louder as she disappeared from view. It was silent in the house for a few minutes until Emma started crying again. Stanley patter her back as he tried to console her.

"Its okay Emma, big brother Stanny is here now." Suddenly, Stanley heard a small voice near his ear.

" 'tanny." Stanley's eyes went wide as he looked at Emma. He then looked at his brothers who both had the same look of shock on their faces. He looked back at Emma was was looking back at him.

"Emma, say that again." Emma tilted her head to the side in confusion for a second, "Come on Emma." Stanley then had a thought

"Wait, that's right, she'll probably want me to be specific."

"Emma, who am I?" Emma eyes brightened at Stanley's question and smiled.

" 'tanny." It almost sounded like Stanley's nickname, but without the 'S'.

"Stan, I think she's trying to say your name!" Stanford exclaimed. Stanley was silent, slightly shaking as tears of joy started to run down his face. He felt as if Emma was the only thing that mattered. As if she was the reason why his life is suddenly perfect. He was suddenly taken out of his thoughts when he saw that Shermie and Stanford were staring at him. He quickly wiped his eyes with his free arm and cleared his throat.

"Don't look at me like that! I wasn't crying, I just had dust in my eyes!" Shermie just smiled at him with a smug expression.

"Stan, Ford told me that you cried when you first saw her." Stanford only shrugged.

"I had to tell him, it was the first time you ever cried about something so small."

"Shut up!" Stanley exclaimed. Emma only giggled at the interaction, Stanley turned to face her.

"That didn't give you permission to laugh little missy." But that only made Emma giggle some more.

"Alright boys, that's enough. It's late, it's been a long day, and a certain little sister needs to get some sleep." Shermie said. But when he tried to reach out to take Emma out of Stanley's arms, she whimpered and clung tighter to Stan. It seemed like she didn't want to let her Stanny go.

"It's alright Shermie, I'll take her." Shermie nodded as Stanley took Emma upstairs to bed.

It took a while for Emma to stay in her crib, she kept fussing every time Stanley tried to put her down, but as soon as she fell asleep, Stan went into his shared room where he saw his twin take a five dollar bill out of his pocket. He then turned to Stan and gave it to him.

"A deal's a deal. You win." Stanley looked at the five dollar bill for a second, then he gave it back to Stanford.

"Keep it, I don't want it anymore." Stanford looked at his brother, confused.

"But Stan, the deal was-"

"The deal, doesn't matter anymore. I'm just glad our sister is safe.'"

"Even if it means losing your girlfriend?" Stanley scoffed.

"Oh please, after what she did. I don't even consider her my friend anymore. Honestly, my sister only showed Carla's true colors. No one hurts my sister and get's away with it. Karma will kick her in the butt later, and I will be laughing when that happens." Stanford looked at his twin in surprise. This was the first time he had heard Stanley say something so...mature. Having Emma around really changed him. She made him more compassionate on the outside then he was on the inside. Stanford smiled as he climbed up to his bed.

"Whatever you say, 'Stanny'." Stanley groaned as he sat on his bed.

"You are never gonna let me live that down are you?" Stanford only laughed

"When you get such a cute nickname from a cute baby, how can I?"

"Well knock it off, only Emma can call me that." And he meant it too.

[orangeoctopi7]

Champions: Part 2

I said when I wrote part 1 for Stanuary last year that I planned on continuing this... it just took way longer than I expected. 

Well, now I get to use part two for @stanuary 2021!

Chapter 2

“Gather ‘round everyone!” Linkara called in his team one morning. “I just got the dossier on my first opponent in the Contest of Champions.” 

Jaeris, his coach, Dr. Linksano, his science expert, Pollo, his producer, and Harvey Finevoice, the general voice of reason, were all gathered in Linkara’s office. 

“Who’s the guy?” Harvey asked.

“A man named Stanley Pines.”. Linkara answered, passing out photocopies of the documents.

“Huh, so they set you up with another first-timer.” Jaeris observed, scanning over the information. “He even comes from an alternate Earth a lot like yours.”

“So, they have you fighting a sextagenarian old man who runs a tourist trap?” Linksano asked incredulously.

“He’s a sextagenarian old man who destroyed an interdimensional chaos demon.” Linkara corrected. “He wouldn’t be in the Contest of Champions if he wasn’t a serious contender. Besides, I’m a middle-aged guy who reviews comic books on the internet, I’m hardly one to judge what this guy’s day-job is.”

“So who gets to choose the battle this time?” Pollo asked. 

“We don’t know yet.” Linkara answered. “I think they’re supposed to let us know later today. But with the interdimensional temporal differences, we might not find out until next week.” 

One of the Temlin’s hooded envoys appeared in the middle of the room, interrupting the discussion. 

“Or, y’know, we could find out right now.” 

* * *

Meanwhile, in Gravity Falls....

It had been a few months since Stan’s preliminary round in the Contest of Champions, and the elder Pines twins were back at the Mystery Shack for the summer. The Temlins had left them with a sort of “open channel” for communication, which Ford had connected to his monitoring equipment.

It’d been so long since they’d heard anything, that Stan was beginning to wonder if the whole thing wasn’t some sort of elaborate joke. Then one day, while Mabel was making breakfast, the alarm went off, and that creepy hooded hologram from before showed up in the middle of the kitchen.

Poor Mabel was so startled she almost dropped her pitcher of Mabel Juice, and Stan nearly made a move for his nearest gun before he realized what it was.

“Ford, that thing’s back!” He yelled.

The old researcher had already been rushing to the kitchen after he heard the alarm go off, and he appeared in the doorway just a second after Stan yelled. A still-sleepy Dipper was not far behind him.

“What’s going on?” the boy asked, rubbing crusties out of his eyes. 

“It’s that stinkin’ contest thing I told you about!” Stan explained. “They finally remembered I exist, huh?”

“It’s all due to temporal differences.” Ford assured him. “I’m honestly surprised we didn’t have to wait longer.”

“Champion Stanley Pines, the time has come to set your first contest.” The hologram informed him. “For this round, you have been randomly selected to choose the nature of your competition.”

“Oh, really?” Stan grinned and slipped into conman mode. “Well, I’m really happy to hear that! Why don’t you have a seat and join us for breakfast while we talk?”

“Stanley, it’s a hologram.” Ford pointed out, but the Temlin emissary sat down at their little table.

“Why don’t you pour the nice alien hologram some Mabel Juice, Pumpkin.” Stan suggested. Mabel beamed and poured a tall glass for their guest. 

“Oh boy, you’re in for a treat! I added extra Fizz Flints this time!”

Just as Ford was about to point out that, as a hologram, their guest couldn’t even pick up the glass, much less drink it, the Temlin emissary stared intently at the drink, and it began to empty, almost like an invisible straw was sipping it away.

“Incredible. We have explored the vast reaches of time and space. We understand the most intricate machinations of the universe. And yet we have never encountered a beverage like this.”

“Aww, thanks!” Mabel accepted their compliment graciously. “There’s more where that came from!” She filled the glass again.

“Heheh, yeah, sure there is sweetie.” Stan scooted her away and took a seat opposite of their guest. “Don’t give ‘em too much at once, kiddo, we want ‘em to savor it!”

Mabel nodded sagely. “That is so true. Let me know when you’re ready for more, Mr. Temlin.”

“Alright, alright, you kids run along. Me and Bigwig here are gonna talk business.”

The kids left with only minor protests. Ford was still standing in the doorway, trying to wrap his head around what he’d just witnessed. 

“Ford, didn’t you have some sort of big project you were workin’ on?” Stan asked his brother pointedly.

“Hmm? Oh, no, nothing particularly urgent, at least….” 

Stan shot his brother a significant glare.

“Oh! Oh, yes, I do have er, temporal disturbances to, ah, compare. Just… let me know when you’re done.”

“Now.” Stan said slyly as he sat across from the Temlin Emissary and steepled his fingers. “About this competition…”

*  *  *

“Champion Linkara, the time has come to set your first contest.” The hooded hologram declared. “While for this round, the decision ultimately rests with your opponent, you will be granted time to meet together and discuss the conditions of the competition. Speak aloud your readiness to begin the meeting, and it shall be done.”

“What, right now?” Harvey wondered incredulously.

“Eh, no time like the present.” Linkara reasoned. “So, is he coming here, or am I going there?”

“Champion Stanley Pines has agreed to meet in this location. He has also requested permission to bring a guest. Do you find this acceptable?”

“Sure, why not.” Linkara shrugged.

With a shimmer, the hologram disappeared, and two nearly identical old men took its place. They were both tall, broad-shouldered, and square jawed, with large ears, bulbous noses, and fluffy grey hair. One word a navy blue hoodie, the other a dark brown fisherman’s coat and a red beanie.

“Huh, not what I was expecting.” The one in the beanie grunted. “Just looks like someone’s basement. I thought the file said this guy had a spaceship.”

“I do, it’s undergoing some repairs right now.” Linkara stepped forward and extended a hand in greeting. “So, which one of you is Stanley Pines?”

The one in the hoodie gave him a piercing look, but the one in the beanie grinned and accepted the handshake. “That’s me. You can just call me Stan. This here’s my brother, Ford.”

Ford was looking around at Linkara’s gathered team. His gaze lingered on Linksano and Harvey. “Triplets, I presume? Incredible, what are the odds that two Champions from sets of multiples would end up competing against each other?”

“Whaddaya mean, triplets?” Harvey asked in confusion.

“Oh, come on, you three look even more alike than me an’ Ford, and we’re twins!” Stan scoffed.

“No we don’t!” Linksano protested. “I wear goggles, and he wears a hat!”

“What hat?” Linkara asked innocently.

“Yeah, you two wish you were as good lookin’ as me.” Harvey quipped. 

“Er, weren’t we supposed to be setting the terms of your first match?” Pollo reminded them.

“Remarkable! Are you a sentient robot?” Ford leaned down for a closer look.

“Yes, and like most sentient beings, I don’t enjoy being stared at.”

“O-oh, of course!” Ford quickly folded his arms behind his back. “I apologize.”

“Uh, anyway, about that contest thing…” Stan steered the conversation back to the point. “I already talked with those Temlin guys, and it’s gonna be dirty boxing! They promised us a ring an’ everything!”

“What!?” Linkara protested. “How the h___ is dirty boxing a fair and reasonable battle? It has dirty in the name!”

“No hard feelin’s, kid, but you’re half my age, I need all the advantages I can get!” Stan defended. “‘Sides, I’ve read your file, I know you’ve got some experience fightin’ hand-to-hand.”

“I’ve read your file too, you used to be a professional prize fighter!”

“Tch, yeah, when I was in my 20’s. An’ it didn’t last long, believe me.”

“I thought the whole point of this meeting was to discuss the terms of the fight and come to an agreement!”

“Eh, that’s more of a formality than anything.” Jaeris clarified. “Since the final decision rests with whoever the Temlins chose, this time’s more for sizin’ each other up than convincin’ the other guy to even the playing field.”

“So what, whoever gets to pick the contest is basically guaranteed victory!?”

“Eh, not necessarily.” Jaeris corrected. “I didn’t get to pick my first round neither, an’ I still managed to come out on top by outsmartin’ my opponent.”

“Yeah, good luck with that, bucko.” Stan smirked.

“Stanley, don’t antagonize the man.” Ford chided him. “You’ve already literally given him an excuse to punch you in the face.”

“That’s the idea, genius.” Stan rolled his eyes. “But seriously, good luck with your preparations and stuff. I’m lookin’ forward to the fight, should be fun.” He grinned warmly at his opponent. “So, uh, are we done here? How do we get back to the boat?”

The air around them shimmered, and they disappeared just as quickly as they’d arrived in the first place.

“...He seemed nice.” Jaeris commented after they’d left. “H___ of a lot nicer than my first opponent, that’s for sure.”

“Oh yeah, perfectly nice!” Linkara agreed with false cheer. “If you ignore the fact that he’s basically been given permission to cheat. What a load of bullcrap!” 

“You’re not going to give up just because your opponent has an unfair advantage, are you?” Pollo asked. 

“Oh no, I told you guys, I’m in it to win it.” the comic reviewer assured them. “I just need someone to complain to.”

“I mean, I guess you could try and file a complaint with the Temlins, but I wouldn’t count on it makin’ any difference.” Jaeris said.

“Alright. Dr. Linksano, could you start drafting a complaint letter?”

“I’m a mad scientist, not your secretary!”

“I’ll pay you by the word.”

“Deal.”

“In the meantime, if I’m gonna beat this guy, I am going to need a really great training montage!”

* * *

The day of the first round came. Both parties were teleported to a boxing ring that had been set up within the Temlins’ stadium. Linkara and his crew were set up in the green corner, while Stan and his brother were in the red. 

“Why are both of you fully dressed?” Linksano asked. “Don’t boxers usually just wear a pair of shorts?”

“You really think folks wanna see two outta shape guys fight topless?” Stan reasoned.

“Well, yes. Many people throughout the multiverse are very into that!”

“If you both feel more comfortable keepin’ your shirts on, then that’s the fight the Temlins are gonna put on.” Jaeris said.

“Contestants, enter the ring to begin your first round in the Contest of Champions!” The Temlins’ holographic envoy commanded.

Stan and Linkara both climbed into the ring, meeting in the center to shake hands and exchange pleasantries.

“So, uh, how long’s it been for you?” Stan asked.

“Eh, a couple of months. You?”

“Almost a year and a half. I almost forgot about this whole thing!”

“The contestants are in place. Fight with honor, fight with pride, most of all, fight well. Begin!”

“Kick his a__ kid!” Harvey cheered.

“You can do it, Stanley! Show him what the Pines family is made of!” Ford encouraged.

Stan made the first blow with a quick pop to the stomach and followed up by stepping on his opponent’s leading foot. 

“...oww…” Linkara groaned and reeled back a step or two, but otherwise looked as ready as ever.

Stan raised an eyebrow in surprise. He’d expected the out-of-shape comic reviewer to be a push-over, but the guy could take more punishment than he thought.

Linkara landed a haymaker square in Stan’s chest. It was clear the kid had no form and no training, but he certainly packed a wallop. 

They exchanged more sloppy blows. Most of the time, Stan didn’t have any trouble blocking the kid’s punches, but some of them were so wild and out there that he either didn’t see them coming or didn’t know how to block them.

“I AM A MAN!!” Linkara shouted, and despite the fact that it was as clearly telegraphed as possible, the punch was somehow impossible to block. The blow knocked Stan onto his back, and he was pretty sure there’d been a flash of light and some sound effects.

“What the heck was that!?” Stan quickly pulled himself up off the mat before the ref could ring the bell on him. 

“I dunno, it does something different every time.” Linkara shrugged.

Stan squared his shoulders. It was time to end this. “Left Hook!” He wound up and socked the guy right in the jaw. The blow was actually enough to spin the comic reviewer on his heel, and he fell to the floor.

“5… 4… 3… 2… 1… It’s a knockout!” The ref declared.

Stan stood over his defeated opponent. “You ok, kid?” He asked, offering a hand up.

“...and tha’s why Pow-Rangers Megforssss.... Iz zah bes’ seezin of all…” The comic review offered only a slurred non-sequitur as a reply. 

“Champion Linkara is unable to continue the fight! This match goes to--” The ref was about to hold Stan’s hand aloft in victory, when another Temlin Emissary, this one clearly different from the first, appeared.

“Stop these proceedings at once!” The hologram commanded with a booming voice. “There is reason to believe that Champion Stanley Pines bribed one of the Temlin Judges in order to receive an unfair advantage in this contest!”

“Ha! What? I dunno what this guy’s talkin’ about!” Stan insisted nervously. “I don’t even know what a bribe is!”

“How could anyone possibly bribe the Temlins? They’re all-powerful!” Ford asked. “I know Stan is quite the charmer, but what could my brother possibly offer them as a bribe?”

“A good question. We never would have guessed it was possible either, but Champion Linkara filed an official complaint. As we looked into his concerns, we found that our representative sent to determine the first competition with Champion Stanley Pines made themself unobservable for approximately 10 Earth Minutes. As for what Champion Stanley could have offered as a bribe, the answer is as simple as it is shocking: A new experience.” 

“What the h___ is that supposed to mean?” Harvey asked.

“The Temlins started this competition because they were bored with all their limitless power.” Jaeris recalled. “So if this guy was really able to show them somethin’ new, that might actually be enough to work as a bribe!”

“When we further investigated the representative in question, we found them in possession of a large quantity of a heretofore unknown beverage called Mabel Juice. Upon interrogation, the representative confessed to accepting the beverage in exchange for approving ‘Dirty Boxing’ as the round’s competition.”

“Dang it, should’ve known that alien jerk would rat me out.” Stan muttered under his breath.

“As a consequence, the representative has been suspended from duty, and Champion Stanley has been disqualified from the Contest of Champions.”

“And you guys couldn’t have disqualified him before he beat me up?” Linkara asked incredulously as he picked himself up off the mat.

“The match was already set to be broadcast, and there was no alternative to fill the time slot.”

“So, what, this guy wins after all?” Stan pointed to his opponent.

“Champion Linkara will be assigned a new opponent for his first round. We shall choose another Champion who had previously been in consideration for this tournament.”

“Oh come on! So I have to fight two first rounds!?” Linkara complained. 

“We shall inform you when your new opponent has been chosen.” The Temlin emissary continued as if they hadn’t heard him, before disappearing.

“So, uh, no hard feelings?” Stan grinned sheepishly, extending a handshake to Linkara.

“Yes! Yes, some hard feelings!” Linkara shouted at him.

“Welp, that’s my cue to get outta here. C’mon Ford!”

The elder Pines twins ducked into a portal back to the Stan’O’War II before the comic reviewer completely lost his temper. They sat down at the table and shared a hearty laugh.

Ford shook his head. “Stan, you’re the only person I know who could possibly bribe a race of all-powerful beings, and get away with it."

"Didn't quite get away with it, did I?" Stan shook his head. 

“Well, you may have been disqualified, but you weren’t zapped or banished to a featureless void, which is more than most people who have crossed the Temlins can say.”

Stan grinned. “Heh, well, that might’ve been because they all want a shot at trying Mabel Juice. I’d better call her. Somethin’ tells me she’s gonna get some extra-dimensional visitors in the near future.”

[imnotoverlyobsessive]

Looks Like Someone Picked a Whole Bushel of Oopsie Daisies: Chapter One

ooo chapter one! chapter two is on the way! big thanks to @edward-or-ford for all the help brainstorming and editing!

Chapter One: The Dating Issue   

What a tragic attraction; what’s the point of romance?- Neon Trees, Teenager in Love

Mabel Caroline Pines, age 17, had never had a boyfriend.

It’s not like she didn’t want one. She totally did. Her parents were both super encouraging. Sometimes she thought they might even be pushing her into dating.

There were two problems with this. The first was that Mabel had a soulmark, and nobody wanted to go on a date with somebody who had a soulmark. Why bother? Clearly their soulmate is already in their life, so there’s not much point.

Mabel had always had a soulmark. For as long as she could remember, there it was, on her wrist. Taunting her. Mocking her. Hahaha, laughing at her inability to find her stupid soulmate, wherever he’d run off to. She’d just come home from preschool one day and there it was, her mom had told her. Whoever her soulmate was, she didn’t remember him. He obviously went to her school (her lack of withdrawal symptoms told her that) and she was forever trying to peek at boys’ wrists to see if it was them. It wasn’t, but she tried anyway.

The second problem was that Mabel was desperately, hopelessly, stupidly, ridiculously in love with someone already. She’d been in love with him for years, which was the opposite of smart, because he was the last person in the world who would ever look at her that way. Like, ever. Ever ever.

Even so, she waited eagerly for each of his texts, staying up late more often than not just to talk to him. He’d put a beehive in her stomach, and the bees went freakin’ nuts whenever she was around him or even thought about him (which was basically all the time, Christ, get it together, Mabel!). So basically her stomach was all buzz buzz buzz all day long.

He made her so nervous and so happy, but he also made her incredibly sad. She knew he couldn’t see her like that. There was no way. So she’d been stuck pining after him since she was, like, fourteen. Which, whatever. She was used to it.

She was on her way to see him, as it happened. Or rather, she and her parents were. Her parents always accompanied them, and watched them together constantly.

Mabel went to visit her brother (yeah, okay, she’s in love with her brother, shut up, it is what it is) in Gravity Falls, Oregon (or Mount Hood for a ski trip if it was warm) multiple times a year. Usually once every few months. She didn’t know Dipper as well as she would’ve liked to. At least, not in person. Sure, they texted all the time, and they even Skyped a decent amount, but she didn’t get to hang out with him unless her parents were watching them. Which was suuuuuper weird, but her parents had always been weird about some stuff.

Most parents didn’t want their daughters dating. This was not the case with Mabel’s parents. They always seemed annoyed when she didn’t have a date for Homecoming. On Valentine’s Day, Mabel’s mom always asked if any of the boys had confessed to her (they hadn’t; everyone knew Mabel had a soulmark at this point, despite the social taboo against discussing such things), and was visibly disappointed at Mabel’s annual response of “no”.

Mabel got the feeling that if a boy did ever ask her out, her parents would expect her to go out with him whether she liked him or not.

“Just give him a chance, honey,” her dad had told her once when she asked what to do if a boy she didn’t like asked her out.

Mabel’s mom had nodded, saying, “you might like him more than you thought!”

Mabel didn’t have much of a desire to give anybody a chance if she wasn’t interested. Why waste each other’s time? Frankly, she’d been longing after Dipper so long she didn’t think she had it in her to even try thinking about another boy that way.

Her phone’s text tone sounded, and Mabel felt a smile grace her lips.

Dipper: are you here yet?

She stifled a giggle and texted him back.

Me: not yet, silly. I think we’ve got like fifteen minutes left, so we’re close

Dipper: well hurry up

She was thinking of a reply when several minutes passed and he texted again.

Dipper: I miss you

She smiled. It was really freakin’ hard not to feel hopeful when he said things like that. He doesn’t see you that way, Mabel! Get over it!  

Me: I miss you, too, Bro Bro!

“Mabel,” her mom said, getting her attention. Her head snapped up.

“Yeah?”

“You sure you’re good to stay at your friend’s tonight?” Mrs. Pines asked. “We don’t want to impose on the Chius, and it’s your first night here since last year.”

Mabel bounced excitedly in her seat at the thought of a sleepover with her friends as soon as she got into town. Her friends, Dipper, Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford, Dipper- all her favorite Gravity Falls peeps in one place!

“Absotively, Momster!” Mabel nodded emphatically. “It’s been waaaaaay too long since I’ve gotten to hang with my GF GFs! Plus, I’m seventeen now! I’m old enough to properly find my soulmate, y’know!” She learned forward conspiratorially, her seatbelt locking against her neck and completely missing the way her parents flinched. “And I know the girls have got some major boy talk to dish out that they’ll only share in person!”

“Remember, Mabel,” said Mr. Pines firmly. “No-““Touching the Dipster, yeah yeah, I know,” she grumbled. “Stupid I’ll-die-if-I-touch-my-twin allergy.”

Mrs. Pines rolled her eyes as they pulled up to the Mystery Shack. “Okay, let’s go say hi.”

Standing in front of the Mystery Shack, however, was Dipper, one hand in his pocket and the other scrolling through his phone.

He looked up when they pulled into the clearing the Shack was in, and a huge grin split across his face when he saw their car. Mabel unlocked her seatbelt before the car had fully stopped.

“Mabel, wait-“ before Mrs. Pines could even finish her sentence, Mabel had opened the door and jumped out of the car. “...until the car has stopped.”

Mabel had barely even heard her, tripping over her feet to get to her brother. Squealing, Mabel stopped several feet away from Dipper, squirming excitedly.

“Dipper!” She squealed.

He put his phone into his hoodie and shoved his hand in his pockets. “Hey, Mabes,” he grinned at her.

His eyes were kinda twitchy, and he wasn’t looking right at her. He was kinda… looking over her shoulder, or at the car, or at her parents, but never her. Was that… nervousness? Nah, of course not. He’s got no reason to be nervous. Unless maybe he got her or their parents a risky gift and he’s not sure how they’ll feel about it? But no, Dipper knows what they like, he’s got no reason to be nervous.

Mabel dismissed the thought.

The thing about Mabel one must understand is that Mabel is a hugger. She hugs everyone, and not being allowed to was very difficult. Risk of dying or not, this no-touching thing was the absolute      worst    . Not being able to hug Dipper after not seeing him for months was awful. Her parents had been super extra adamant about it this time, too. Even more so than they usually were.

One time, Mabel saw an episode of this show where this guy brought dead people back to life by touching them and if he touched them a second time they died permanently, but the guy had this girlfriend he wanted to hold hands with and stuff and they worked around it. Why couldn’t they do something like that? Mabel’s parents had said no, though.

Which sucked because Mabel really wanted to touch Dipper. Like, she really     really wanted to touch Dipper. Seeing him now, being just a few feet from him, not touching him felt… wrong. All wrong. There was something very very wrong with this no-touching situation.

The longer she stood there not touching him, the more it felt like there were needles under her skin, poking at her from the inside.

Their parents stepped out of the car after what seemed like an eternity (in reality, it was about thirty seconds or less), breaking Mabel out of her stupor. “Okay, kids, let’s bring the presents inside,” said Mrs. Pines. “Dipper, can you help? I’m going to go tell your uncles we’re here.” Dipper nodded, walking around to the back of the car with Mabel in tow.

“Ugh, Dip,” Mabel groaned. “The drive was so long and after school just got out yesterday sitting for the whole freakin’ car ride was the worst!”

She was trying really hard not to blush. Honestly, she was! It’s just that from behind, she could see his butt so well when he walked, and he had just the nicest butt ever and it was soooooo hard not to stare at it. Anyone would’ve stared! Really! It was physically impossible not to.

“I know, you were telling me that the whole way here,” he turned to face her as they reached the trunk, a grin on his face.

Ugh. Not that grin! No, anything but that grin! It made her heart flutter and the bees swarm! Dammit, Dipper, couldn’t you be a little less attractive? Just a little bit? For the good of humanity! Okay, really just Mabel, but she was part of humanity and she deserved a normal brother/sister relationship that didn’t involve her staring at his butt when he walked, right?

Mrs. Pines had opened the trunk, grabbed a meticulously wrapped present, and stepped back, waiting patiently. Reaching into the trunk, Mabel went to grab the same present that Dipper did. They were so close, standing side by side, and their hands nearly touched. They both pulled back abruptly, each looking down to mutter a quiet apology.

It was so hard to resist inching closer to him. Even with years of practice, somehow, it had gotten harder. God, how had it gotten harder? She’d gotten used to ignoring the suffocating need to touch him, hadn’t she? Jesus, Mabel, get a grip, girl!

He smiled slightly at her again, and Mabel thought her heart might stop.

[nikxation]

If You Give a Mothman a Loan

Huge thank you to @birdgirlamp for commissioning me to write a fic by donating to WHO (if you want more information, see this post). Sorry it took so long to get this out, but here it is! Hope you enjoy!

Word count: 2359

Characters: Stanford Pines (pre- and post-portal), Fiddleford McGucket (pre-portal), Wendy Corduroy (post-portal... obviously)

~ ~ ~

It’s three months into Fiddleford’s stay in Gravity Falls, and the skeleton in the closet (or the portal in the basement) is slowly looking less and less like just a bundle of messy wires and half-finished structural supports and more like the behemoth of a machine it’s meant to be. The raw stock for the exterior plating should be here any day now, the first of the two power transfer beams is online, and every day is another day closer to their end-goal.

He’ll hand it to Stanford Pines, this is some of their best work yet.

He still remembers the day he arrived and Ford showed him the initial drafts. He’d thought the size was overkill, that the hollowed-out basement beneath the house would just become a room with decent acoustics for him to practice his banjo playing away from his old college roommate while the real machine was built somewhere less cold and damp.

Boy howdy was he wrong.

Now, every time he walks in the room, he feels the thing like the presence it is, towering stories tall, looming over him in a way that he would almost consider menacing if it weren’t for the fact that it’s just a machine.

He’s got blueprints and prototyped miniatures of literal death bots.

So why would the interdimensional portal in the basement put him on edge?

It shouldn’t.

So he shakes the thought away and gets back to work.

An unsuccessful system test led to the time-shift circuit on motherboard seven incinerating again. If he were the kind of man to actually keep count (which he certainly is), he’d know it’s the fourth time in the past week this same part has crapped out on them.

It’s also the reason he’s gonna finally stop out-sourcing these parts and just start making them in-house from now on. He’s about sick of replacing them every five minutes.

That’s what brings Fiddleford to where he is now, with his upper body shoved halfway inside the portal’s support structure and crammed between God knows how many electrical components. His arms have just started to cramp in their rather unnatural position as he pries at the burnt-out part to replace it with a newer one that will hopefully hold out against the power output better than its predecessor.

Ford’s sitting in the control room, supposedly running through some of the math again to double-check that they didn’t miss anything.

The “supposedly” is only because, for the past twenty minutes, the man has been prattling on like Fiddleford’s grandma at Sunday family brunch. He can only hear the occasional snippet from his position (quite literally) inside the portal, and as far as he can tell, he thinks he’s talking about either his most recent research outing, or something about preacher scouting. He wants to lean towards the former, but with the new stories he’s found about a so-called “velocipastor”, he can’t rule out the latter. Either way, the man hasn’t stopped talking long enough to breathe, let alone re-run equations that use relative space-time physics with integrated fourth dimensional calculus.

Fiddleford just doesn’t have the heart to tell him that he really can’t hear him.

He snaps the ribbon cable off the still-smoking component (after the first time it blew, he learned to bring heat-resistant gloves in here with him) and is rather glad to see it’s still intact. Rewiring is a day-long project he’s glad to not have to do again. He maneuvers his hand back out into open air and tosses the old piece somewhere into the room before getting to work mounting the new one.

Ford’s voice echoes from the next room over.

“… extra funds… exploring… investing for…”

Bolting the circuit down turns out to be easier the fifth time he has to do it, and he’s about to start running a simple, probably non-exploding test to make sure the new part is integrated correctly when he hears—

“… so I gave Mothman a thousand dollars…”

And that, of all things, stops Fiddleford in his tracks.

“Come again?” he yells. He had to have misheard because he swears he just heard the man say—

“I ran into Mothman in the woods yesterday,” Ford says, all too nonchalantly, “and they told me they were starting up a small business and needed an investment, so I gave them a thousand dollars from my excess funds with a verbal agreement that they would pay me back within the year.”

… So he didn’t mishear him, that’s for darn sure.

The fact that the Mothman is real is surely weird enough. But he’s lived in Gravity Falls (and known Stanford Pines) for long enough that it doesn’t really surprise him too much. No, that’s not the part that brings him to wiggle himself out of his position inside the portal’s underbelly just enough so that he can meet Ford’s eyes in the other room.

“You gave Mothman… a thousand dollars…” Fiddleford says slowly.

“To help kickstart their new business, yes.” It’s so casual, like he doesn’t even register the inherent absurdity in what he’s saying.

“And that business is?”

“Mothballs.”

“Stanford!”

“What?”

“That’s the stupidest scam I’ve ever heard.”

Ford sputters, his face aghast for a moment. “I did not get scammed by Mothman!”

“You did.”

“Did not.”

“Do you even know what mothballs are for?”

He pauses, his mouth snapping shut, his face turning the slightest shade of red. Fiddleford can see it from the next room over. “No. I always assumed they were some biproduct created by moths during reproduction or something.” Fiddleford lets his head fall back, bonking on a bar of the steel framework behind him.

“Stanford, they repel moths,” he says. “You just let a bunch of moths convince you they’re starting a business making the thing they hate. That’s stupider than the time my neighbor tried to convince me his cat could see God. And you have three PhDs!”

“Four now,” he says quietly, and Fiddleford levels him with a single raised eyebrow.

“You’re gonna go back, find that over-glorified insect, and get our money back. Or so help me, I will never do another grocery run for as long as I live here.”

“Oh come now, that’s hardly fair. You know I hate going into town.”

“Then you better hurry along and find him.”

“You honestly believe the actual Mothman is pulling a con.”

“People lie, Stanford,” he says, finally ducking himself back into the machine to finally run the diagnostic on the new circuit. “Even cryptids and aliens probably from another dimension.”

There’s a moment of silence, but it’s broken a few moments later by the sound of a chair scuffing on the floor and footsteps ascending the wooden stairs out of the basement.

Fiddleford snorts, shaking his head and getting back to work.

~ ~ ~

“So, like, the Mothman,” Wendy says, keeping pace next to him as they make their way back into the woods, the sun’s last rays just starting to slip behind the trees. “The actual Mothman. He’s real?”

“As real as any of the other anomalies in this town,” Ford says, adjusting the strap of the bag slung over his shoulder. He’d heard the cryptid had come back into town again shortly after Wierdmageddon, and after his first attempt at getting his money back a few weeks back (second if you count that time over three decades ago) went sour, he decided to bring back-up this time. But with Stan still out of commission and the kids rightly wanting to stay with him, he was hard-pressed for options. That is until the cashier girl piped up and said she’d do it for ten percent of whatever they recovered.

Ford negotiated her down to eight and a half. She drives a hard bargain; he can see why Stan hired her.

“Dude, that’s sick,” she says.

“I mean, I hardly think they’re ill or anything,” Ford says. “As fast as their moths die off, they re-introduce new ones to the population through some sort of reproductive mitosis—”

“Nah dude, it’s a phrase,” she cuts him off. “Means, like, ‘that’s awesome’.”

“Ah, alright.” Ford pauses to check the anomaly scanner on his watch, the little white blip flashing on the screen. “I’ve never been exceptionally ‘with it’ when it comes to slang, so you’ll have to pardon my misunderstanding.”

“You’re fine, Dr. Pines,” she says. She kicks a loose rock off into the brush. “I’m pretty sure Stan doesn’t understand half of what I say either.” Ford hums an affirmative, intently watching the small blip on his watch, confirming that it is, in fact, slowly moving in their direction. After a few seconds, he drops the bag he’s been carrying with a thwump, a bit of dust swirling up from the dirt.

“We’re going to set up the trap right here,” he says. “We have probably ten minutes until the Mothman comes through here, so we’ll need to act quickly.”

“You got it boss-man.”

It’s a fairly simple net trap, one that they make short work of assembling. Ford had already built the majority of it to bring out here, including a magic-imbued mosquito net that should contain the Mothman’s consciousness so long as they catch the majority of their moths.

He made that mistake last time, the Mothman managing to escape in the couple moths that his trap missed.

“So, you really were in, like, a different dimension for a bunch of years, right?” Wendy asks as she spreads some leaves and twigs over the net.

“Multiple dimensions,” he says as he carefully sets the trap’s trigger pole. “I travelled through thousands of them in my thirty years away from this one.”

“Dude, that’s nuts.”

“It was… pretty sick,” he says, shooting her a wry grin. Wendy groans.

“Well,” she says, “you just confirmed for me that I was right to never teach Stan slang, so thanks for that I guess.”

“Glad to help.” With the trap finally set and ready to go, he pulls the last item out of the bag: the bait, which he flicks on and gently sets down against the trigger.

“That’s a flashlight,” Wendy says, the statement almost a question.

“Indeed, it is.”

“Is it, like,” she says, waving her hands slightly, “I don’t know, magic or something?”

“Nope,” he says, backing off and giving the trap one last look-over. He has to hand it to the girl, she knew what she was doing.

“You’re serious?”

“Entirely,” he says. “It doesn’t take much to attract them. Back in the eighties, they used to hang around streetlamps and windows all the time. It’s a wonder they’re still considered a cryptid considering how blatantly out in the open they—”

He hears the tell-tale sound of fluttering insect wings, not too far off, but loud enough to make him pause. He glances in the direction and then down at his watch, the blip on the screen almost on top of them. Quickly, he motions to Wendy to hide and then does the same himself, crouching behind the nearest tree and peering around the side to watch.

It’s rather quiet for a few moments, the darkness starting to settle into the pines, the lit flashlight a lone beacon, just the sound of the pine needles whistling in the breeze and the far-off humming of the approaching cryptid. But that low hum gradually gets louder, turning to a white drone of hundreds of small wings beating in tandem.

A familiar dark shape emerges from the underbrush. Humanoid, but just barely. Ten-feet tall with two enormous wings sprouting from its back, two large yellow eyes reflecting the scattered light of the flashlight in the clearing. Their entire shape feels blurred at the edges, like someone drew a line of charcoal and smudged it, the hundreds of moths that make up their body shifting and moving amongst each other in a din of small beating wings.

The Mothman.

Ford hates to admit that the thought still sends an excited shiver up his spine.

They emerge into the clearing, glancing around and taking an immediate interest in the flashlight lying on the ground. They approach it slowly, cautiously, glancing around as if waiting for the ambush, eventually making it onto the net before moving to bend down to pick up the flashlight.

They stop.

Ford holds his breath.

“Stanford Pines,” a voice says, the sound a high whine broken up and mixed with soft clicking. The Mothman stands back upright, snapping its eyes right in his direction. Immediately, Ford’s mind starts swirling with potential fallback options to try to turn this in their favor. “Surprised you’re still alive after last week. Really think we’re stupid enough to fall for—”

“Suck mothballs, lamp licker!” Wendy screams from across the clearing, the Mothman whipping around just as a projectile of some sort (is that an axe?) flies out of the underbrush and hits the trap’s trigger dead-on, sending the net shooting upwards and capturing almost all of the moths above it. A shrill screech fills the air from the now-dangling mass of moths, but Ford is too busy gaping at the cashier girl as she emerges from her hiding spot.

“Nice shot, Wendy!” he beams, shaking off the shock and coming out to join her on either side of the now-enraged Mothman. She shrugs, retrieving the axe from off the ground and sliding it back into her belt loop behind her back.

“No biggie. My dad enters me into the annual axe-throwing competition every year. I’ve won the last 5 in a row.” Ford, having not known anything about this girl before today, is rather stunned. He certainly was not expecting that from the teen, let alone the nonchalance over it. “But anywho,” she says, turning her attention to the writhing mass in front of them. “About that money…”

~ ~ ~

About two hours after they left, Ford and Wendy arrive back at the Mystery Shack, Ford heading to the back of the house to find Stan and the kids, Wendy collecting her things and heading back out to go home, a crisp one-hundred dollar bill tucked into her pocket.

[3hobbitsinatrenchcoat]

Soosly - Week 4 - Family

This monster took forever but I finally got the @soosly week 4 prompt done. Uh... this one needs a content warning so CW Death Mention (its not a major character though don’t worry)

-----

“Anyone seen Soos? I gotta discuss a new display with him.” Stan pushed his way into the giftshop, balancing a box of half-finished taxidermy parts on one arm and trying to hold open the door with the other.

Melody looked up from the register with a frown, hands paused on her end of day count. “I thought maybe you'd pass him on the way in. He went to check the mail a little while ago but hasn't come back yet.”

“Huh.” Stan set down his box on the counter and cracked his back with a grimace. “I didn't see him by the mailbox but we might'a passed each other.”

Melody's frown deepened. “Seems unlikely. Try the back porch if you don't see him near the mailbox. He likes to grab a Pitt and sit on the couch sometimes.”

“Ain't that familiar,” laughed Stan. He nodded thanks to Melody before tucking his hands in his pockets and wandering back outside.

Soos certainly wasn't at the mailbox, or anywhere visible from the gift shop steps either. Stan frowned and thumped down the steps and around to the back of the house. He relaxed for a brief moment as Soos's familiar form came into view, sitting not on the couch but on the steps, shoulders shaking... Stan's blood ran cold and he swore as he saw Soos lift a hand to scrub at his face.

It took every ounce of self-control he had not to sprint across the backyard. Instead he opted for a more casual yet still purposeful stride, scuffing his feet when he got within earshot so he didn't startle the poor kid when he eased down onto the steps next to him. Soos barely looked over, which was a bad sign, and stared sightlessly across the scrubby late summer grass towards the woods with eyes red-rimmed from crying, which was an even worse sign.

“Hey, gumdrop,” said Stan gently after a long moment of silence punctuated only by a quiet sniffle. He hadn't used the nickname in a while but it was all he could think of in the moment. He didn't expect Soos to full-body flinch at being addressed and cut off the are you okay? that Stan had been about to follow up with by holding out what looked like a letter.

“What is this?” Stan asked, and took the paper from Soos when he merely shook the paper. It may have been just his hand shaking, the way his shoulders trembled. “You want me to read it?” Soos nodded, and Stan saw his eyes welling with more tears before he looked away again.

“Jesus,” read Stan, and he had to suppress a snort because honestly, when was the last time anyone had called Soos by his legal first name?

“I've started this letter a hundred times and every formal introduction seems callous, given the circumstances. I wish that we were being introduced in more pleasant times, but you deserve to know the truth. You have two half-sisters in New Orleans.

“Until last week, when your wedding invitation arrived, my sister and I were unaware we had a brother. We suspect that any mail from you was intercepted by our father to prevent us from finding out he had other family. Unfortunately, that brings me to the heart of the matter.

“Dad passed away a month ago. I've included a copy of the obituary if you wanted the information for family records. I wish... I wish we had known sooner, so that we could have told you. [several lines here were covered in a thick line of whiteout and written over again] I did some digging in Dad's office and, if it is any consolation, he kept every letter you sent. They were in the locked drawer of his filing cabinet, but he did keep them.

“I understand if you want nothing to do with us, but if you ever want to reach out I included my email and phone number. Even though I don't know you yet, it is nice knowing that somewhere in Oregon I have an older brother.

“I am truly sorry you had to find out like this.

“Sincerely, Sandy Oaks”

Wordlessly, Stan picked up the crumpled envelope from where it had fluttered to the ground and pulled out a newspaper clipping. The image of a bland white-bread man stared back at him and Stan folded the picture over so he wouldn't have to stare him in the face as he read.

“Harold Greene, aged 58, passed away peacefully surrounded by family last week. He is survived by his two daughters and 2 grandchildren. All who knew Mr. Oak remember him fondly as a hard-working family man...” Stan stopped reading, rage flickering red at the edges of his vision. Family Man? The man who walked out and never visited his son? The man who Sophie Ramirez would threaten to hunt down and maim if you got more than one drink in her? That man, a family man?

Stan sat seething, unable to put into words exactly what he was feeling. He mechanically folded the letter and newspaper clipping, sliding them back into the envelope with a stony expression. Another miserable sniff came from the stoop beside him and he carefully wrapped an arm around Soos's shoulders.

“I'm sorry, Soos.” Stan said quietly and that was really all it took. With a choked off exhale Soos turned and wrapped his arms around Stan, face buried against his shoulder, great wracking sobs shuddering through his body. Stan froze for all of a second before he pulled Soos tight into a hug, one large hand rubbing soothing circles across his back.

“I... I never even met him,” Soos managed to say between wet gasps for air. “I didn't have the chance, and... and now he's gone. I knew his address, I... I could've gone down to see him but it... I waited too long. I waited too long and now I'll never get to... to...” he trailed off in a hicupping swallow, shoulders tense and shaking.

There were a lot of things Stan wanted to say in the moment. He'd harbored a deep, intense anger at the man for many years. He resented how one man could have such a negative impact on such a cheerful, well-meaning soul. He'd never thought he could dislike a man just as much as his own father, but apparently some deadbeat asshole named Harold fucking Greene was neck in neck for that contest. Stan couldn't say any of that in that moment, with Soos' fingers white-knuckling fistfuls of his t-shirt and tears soaking through to his shoulder. Instead he sighed and tightened his arms around the young man, letting long moments pass as he gathered his thoughts.

“I'd like to say the grief will pass, son,” said Stan after a while, not quite aware of his own words as he thought back to his own lonely mourning when Filbrick passed away. The man had been horrible, sure, but he'd still been his father. “It might be a while before you really come to terms with it and...” he stopped, concerned as Soos suddenly froze against his shoulder and then let out a single wheezing laugh. “Uh, you ok there?”

“I...” Soos sat back, cheeks blotchy with tears but a shaky smile breaking across his face. “Here I am crying about a guy I never even met when...” he swallowed and looked down at his own hands as he clenched and unclenched them in his lap. His next words were a whisper Stan had to strain to hear. “When you were really all the father figure I really needed.”

Aw hell.

Stan felt his own eyes start burning and as he blinked a single hot trail wound its way from his eye and settled in the crease of his nose. “For fuck's sake, Soos. Warn a man before you attempt to murder him.” The words came out strangled, and Soos's gaze snapped over to meet his. They held eye contact for mere seconds before they both broke out in somewhat hysterical laughter, arms slung over each others shoulders more for support than anything else.

“I was saving it for a wedding present but I might as well tell you now,” said Stan once they both calmed down enough for words to make sense. “First of all, kid... you really have to read what people hand you to sign. Even if it's me. Actually, especially if it's me.”

“What?”

“Remember those papers I had you sign a few weeks ago that I said were some legal bullshit for the shack since Ford and I had to sort out the 'not being dead' thing? They had nothing to do with the shack.” It was Stan's turn to look sightlessly into the treeline as his heartbeat seemed loud enough to shake the stoop. “They were adoption papers. Turns out all you need to adopt an adult in Oregon is the adult's consent.”

There was complete silence from Stan's left side and he swallowed hard. “I haven't filed them yet, it was a pretty major invasion of privacy and...” His apology cut off abruptly as Soos nearly bowled him over in another hug.

“DO YOU MEAN IT, MR PINES??” The yelling was right in his ear but Stan couldn't bring himself to care.

“Of course I mean it, gumdrop. Why the fuck wouldn't I mean it? I had to go talk to a lawyer and everything!” He made a token struggle against Soos' very tight grip before chuckling and hugging him back. “And if you call me, your father, 'Mr. Pines' one more time, I'm going to have some words for you, young man.” The threat was empty and they both laughed a little damply.

“Thanks, Dad.” Soos leaned heavily on Stan's shoulder and Stan pressed a whiskery kiss to the top of his head.

“You're welcome, Son.”

[minijenn]

Universe Falls Chapter 76

AN: Heyoooo kudos to me for writing a chapter with a hella short turnaround time of only 3 days. That’s pretty solid on my part if you ask me, as is this chapter as a whole. Anyway, here it is, enjoy!

Previous: https://minijenn.tumblr.com/post/190860819859/universe-falls-chapter-75

***

Chapter 76: The New Stan

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“For your consideration…” Steven began, his tone authoritative as he paced before the trio sitting in front of him in the shack’s den. “The koala, a marsupial from the forests of Australia. And the sloth, hailing from the forest of South America. Who should be crowned king of the ‘Hanging Around and Doing Nothing’ mammals?”

At the proposal of such a seemingly trivial question, a beat of silence passed between Dipper, Mabel, and Connie, at least until the lattermost of the three spoke up to it. “I read once that sloths eat their own droppings.”

“Aw, gross!” Mabel exclaimed as Dipper likewise cringed. 

“...Well, that’s definitely going to affect the rankings,” Steven noted thoughtfully. 

“Um… why are we talking about this again?” Dipper asked, raising a confused eyebrow. 

“Uh, because it's only the most important question ever,” Mabel said with an eager grin. “Koalas vs. sloths; the battle of the century. One of them has to come out on top as to who's the laziest. And who gives the best sleepy hugs! The fate of the world depends on this decision!”

“See? Mabel gets it,” Steven nodded in agreement. 

“Um, guys, no offense, but... do you think that this ‘important’ conversation might be stemming from the fact that we’re all kind of… bored?” Connie asked, finally pointing out the obvious. 

“What? No,” Steven scoffed. “We’re not-”

“We’re totally bored,” Dipper interjected flatly. “Guess it was inevitable seeing as how we’ve sorted out most of our major problems this summer. Defeating Gideon, finding out who the author is, stopping the Cluster and Malachite. Everything’s pretty much over, except-”

“Oh, honestly, Stanley! Would you just act your age for a change?!”

“Yeah, sure I will, Ford, just as soon as you get over yourself and that planet-sized ego of yours!”

“...Except that…” Dipper finished, frowning. 

The kids all turned towards the room’s entrance just as Stan and Ford entered, their bitter argument continuing all the while. “Look, Stan, it's not like I’m even asking that much of you,” the author said, trying his best to remain calm, even if his expression alone told that he was clearly frustrated. “All I want is for you to keep all of your clearly illegal activity as far away from my house as humanly possible.”

“Illegal activity?” Stan scoffed. “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, sixer, but I’ve never done anything illegal. Well, at least not around here.”

“Oh really?” Ford raised a dubious eyebrow. “Then why did I find this bag under the kitchen sink earlier today that’s clearly labeled ‘illegally imported cat fur’?”

“Uh, ‘cause somebody’s framing me, duh,” the conman rebuffed, crossing his arms. “Also if anyone asks, that fur was obtained in a perfectly humane manner. That may or may not have involved shaving.”

“For crying out loud, Stanley...” Ford pinched the bridge of his nose, exasperated. 

“Hey, don’t act all high and mighty,” Stan countered, pointing an accusatory finger at his brother. “It’s not like you’ve never acted under the law either, Mr. ‘I’m Gonna Build A Secret Space Portal Fueled By Toxic Chemical Waste In My Basement’.”

“That’s completely different,” Ford glowered. “First of all, my portal was--at least on my end of things--for science.”

“Oh yeah? And how did that whole ‘science’ thing go for ya, huh, Ford?”

“Stanley!”

“Whoa, hey!” Steven exclaimed, the first and only one of the kids to interject as he hurried to stand between the quarrelling brothers. “Why are you guys spending time fighting when you could be spending time hugging?”

“Yeah, like koalas and sloths!” Mabel chimed in from her spot on the couch. 

“Tch, kid, would you butt outta this?” Stan scowled down at the young Gem. “We’re sort of in the middle of something here.”

“Correction, Stanley, you’re in the middle of getting this unlawful cat fur out of my house!” Ford huffed, shoving the bag of contraband into the conman’s hands. 

“Geez, fine,” Stan groaned, heading to the door to do just that. “Remind me to never let you find my illegal stashes of albino goat fur and bearded dragon scales. Those are the big money makers right there. And the ones most likely to warrant a full-on police raid if anybody ever found out about ‘em.”

“Your what?” Ford asked, baffled as he hurried after his brother, aptly alarmed by this information. “Stanley, wait!”

“Y-yeah, wait!” Steven called after the pair as they headed out of the shack. “Don’t you guys wanna stay and hang out, maybe catch up, talk through your problems with each other-”

“No!” both Stan and Ford adamantly shouted just shy of the shack’s door slamming shut.

“Wow, why isn’t that surprising?” Dipper remarked with an exasperated huff in light of the pair’s hostile exit. 

“Well, at least they can agree on one thing,” Connie said. “The fact that they can’t get along at all…”

“Which is so sad, you guys!” Steven exclaimed, genuinely upset. “That trip to Emerald City was supposed to help Mr. Pines and Mr. Ford get along and be a family again-”

“And it didn’t work…” Mabel said with a glum sigh. 

“But that doesn’t mean we should give up,” the young Gem urged intently. “There’s gotta be something we can do to-”

“Steven…” Dipper interjected with a fretful sigh. “I know you mean well, but what can we really do at this point? Stan and Ford have already made up their minds. It’s just like Connie said; the only thing those two have in common is that they can’t stand each other.”

“But that’s just how they act,” Steven pointed out. “Deep down, I bet they really do care about each other and love each other, just like family should! Right, Mabel?” 

While normally, Mabel would have eagerly agreed with such warm and hopeful sentiments, this time she said nothing, her brows furrowed anxiously as she borrowed her face into the collar of her sweater, forlorn. Yet even despite this relative lack of support, Steven wasn’t about to give up so easily. “C’mon, you guys,” he encouraged with a bright smile. “Like you said, Dipper, we’ve solved every problem that’s come our way this summer except for this one. So between the four of us, I’m sure we can come up with something and-”

“And then it’ll turn into a big deal and things will inevitably go awry, and we’ll all learn some deep lesson while things between Stan and Ford remain exactly the same,” Dipper finished knowingly. “Been there, done that, several times over now. Don’t you think that story’s starting to get just a little bit stale?”

“I can’t help but agree,” Connie nodded, frowning. “We’ve tried taking a more active approach here, and it… hasn’t gotten us very far. Maybe we should just let Mr. Pines and Mr. Ford patch things up on their own.”

Steven was more than prepared to protest this, knowing that waiting for something to happen hadn’t done much for any of them--particularly for Stan and Ford--either. And yet, as he took in the mix of doubtful, dejected, and dismal faces before him, he realized that, despite his best efforts, he was ultimately alone in altruistic intentions to help the bitter brothers. “Yeah…” the young Gem finally sighed, disappointed. Yet even so, some small, yet substantial part of him wasn’t so willing to let the matter go. Even if his friends had made it quite clear that they already had. “I guess you’re right…”

“Great! So let’s get back to something way more fun and less depressing!” Mabel chimed in, quickly perking back up. “Like the age-old question… koalas or sloths? Someone’s gotta win here, people!”

As Dipper and Connie merely laughed the downright trivial question off, Steven hardly paid it much mind. Instead, his focus was still on the door Stan and Ford had just walked out of, his thoughts on them and largely nothing else. He knew that something had to be done to right the decades-old wrongs between the pair, to bring them back to being the close-knit brothers they apparently used to be. But as for exactly what could be done, the young Gem admittedly, regretfully had no ideas. And maybe, he wondered and slightly even feared, such an idea might not ever even come at all. But even if it that brilliant, much-needed idea didn’t come and even if his friends wouldn’t stand by his side on this, Steven was still resolved to do something to bridge the far-too long-standing gap between the brothers. To fix that final problem, once and for all. 

In fact, the young Gem was so caught up in his thoughts about the brothers that carried them home with him later that evening, incomplete plans and unformed ideas swirling around in his mind, all of them centered on what could possibly work to finally repair Stan and Ford’s broken bond. And yet, even as Steven went to bed that night, he still didn’t have much to show for his efforts, much to his frustration. Which was why the young Gem’s sleep was restless as he tossed and turned in bed, fitfully muttering softly all the while. 

His dreams didn’t seem to offer him much peace either, for Steven barely even noticed as they landed him in a strange, dark sort of void. In fact, as he floated aimlessly through that void, his thoughts were still focused on Stan and Ford, to the point that he wasn’t even surprised when he spotted the pair of brothers also floating afar in the darkness much like he was. 

“Mr. Pines! Mr. Ford!” the young Gem exclaimed, reaching out to the brothers even though their backs were turned away from him as they floated apart from each other. “Why can’t you guys just see things eye-to-eye and get along like brothers should? I wish I could show youuuuu-AH!” 

Steven broke into an alarmed cry as he suddenly started speeding across the void completely against his own volition. Panicked as he was, he tried taking some control and direction of his rapid motion, especially as he haphazardly flew towards the twins. And as he did, his frightened cry finally seemed to reach at least one of them as Stan briefly began to turn just as Steven was involuntarily pushed toward him in particular as a result of his rapidly flailing arms and legs. Until, in a moment far too stark and sudden for the young Gem to even process, he collided right into the conman right as everything suddenly slammed to black. 

“Ah!” Steven shouted, abruptly darting up in bed, though not without an odd ache coursing through his lower back as he did. In fact, nearly everything about his body seemed strangely… stiffer, not that he really had an immediate change to figure out why as he realized something was covering his face--a magazine filled with, of all things, pictures of older ladies dressed in expensive coats. Peculiar as that was, the young Gem quickly tossed it away, only to find that the space he found himself in now was a far cry from the one he’d fallen asleep in last night. 

“Huh…?” Steven muttered, frowning as he got a better look around. The room was musty and messy, with only sparse morning light filtering in from the dawn shutters to reveal clothes and other various objects strewn across the floor. Even so, there was something of an air of familiarity about it all the same, one that the young Gem couldn’t quite place as he shook his head in confusion. “This isn’t the temple-” He gasped, his eyes wide as he realized just how deep and gruffly the statement had come out, paired with an even more alarming revelation that his hand was larger and calloused than he was used to it being. “T-this isn’t my voice or my hand or-WHAAAAAT?!” 

 Steven’s bewilderment reached its peak as he caught a glimpse at the mirror propped up against the wall alongside the bed he was sitting in. A mirror that didn’t show his own reflection at all, but rather the reflection of a certain conman instead. “No way…” he muttered, leaning into the mirror to make sure that, sure enough, his current face wasn’t really his. “I’m… Mr. Pines?!”

As shocking as this realization was, the young Gem was shaken up even more as he happened to lean just a bit too far, only to end up falling off the bed entirely. He landed onto the floor with a loud crash, disoriented for a moment only to realize that the body he was currently somehow inhabiting was only barely dressed. “Gah! A-and I’m in boxes!” he cried, flustered as he shielded his eyes while awkwardly stumbling to stand. “I-I must have jumped into Mr. Pines’ mind, l-like I did with that Watermelon Steven!” The young Gem tried his best to rationalize, knowing that his odd powers and his relative lack of control over them were really the only explanation he had for something so unprecedented. Still, even if he had no idea exactly how or why his powers had inexplicably landed him in control of Stan’s body, he properly stood, glancing around for anything he could use to cover the conman’s sparsely-clothed body. 

“I-I guess while I’m in here,” the young Gem began, thankfully finding Stan’s usual suit coat and tie. “I’d better do my best to respect Mr. Pines’ body…” Steven frowned as he held up a pair of pants he found on the floor. “And his privacy. Oh, wait!” he exclaimed brightly, stars in his eyes as he looked to the mirror once again. “Dipper and Mabel have got to see this. They’ll love this!”

With an excited grin, Steven rushed to dress up in Stan’s usual attire, fez and all, before bursting out of his room and into the rest of the shack with verve and gusto. As he sauntered down the hall, he was more than happy to declare the strange, yet interesting state of affairs to himself as he got used to his new voice and new body all the while. 

“I’m Mr. Pines!” he chuckled, playfully flicking the tassel of the conman’s fez around. “I’m Mr. Pines, I’m Mr.--ohoho! I guess I could also say… I’m Stan! Right, Waddles?” He asked the pig, who was blankly sitting in the hall as he passed him by. Waddles simply tilted his head, slightly confused by ‘Stan’s’ chipper attitude, but Steven simply took it in stride all the same as he began walking backwards and continuing excitable declaration of his current identity. 

“I’m Stan for the day, I’m Mr. Pines, I’m-oh!” Steven stopped short as he happened to accidentally bump into something from behind. Or rather someone. 

“Ugh, Stanley…” Ford grumbled, turning to his ‘brother’ with a dry, annoyed expression. “What in the multiverse are you doing? Aside from not watching where you’re going, that is.”

“Oh! I’m so sorry, Mr. Fooooo--or I-I mean, just Ford,” Steven attempted to play himself off with a small laugh, not quite prepared to reveal the truth to the author just yet. “How’s your morning going?”

“Um… fine?” Ford raised a confused eyebrow, especially as he took note of the ‘conman’s’ wide, warm smile. “Are you… feeling alright, Stanley?”

“Yeah, never better!” the young Gem grinned, quite amused by the fact that he had even the author himself so very fooled. “Why do you ask?”

“...No reason,” Ford said stiffly, still somewhat suspicious as he continued on his way past the ‘conman’. 

“Ok, bye, ‘bro’!” Steven called after him with a cheerful wave. The young Gem couldn’t help but let out another small, somewhat devious giggle in spite of himself, impressed by just how well his own mind-changing power seemed to work. Which was why he couldn’t wait to see how Dipper and Mabel would react as he hurried up the stairs toward the attic as fast as he could. 

In fact, he barely managed to suppress an excited grin as he briefly peeked into the attic to find the pair of younger twins getting dressed and ready for the day. Wanting to put on something of a playful act, Steven put on the usual stern and grumpy demeanor he knew Stan to usually have as he knocked on the door, not even waiting for either of the twins to invite him in. 

The instant he burst the door open, that gruff act quickly fell the moment he caught sight of his pair of friends, both of whom were quite surprised by the sudden intrusion. “Uh, Grunkle Stan?” Dipper began, quite confused as the ‘conman’ broke into an uncharacteristically elated smile. 

“Yep! It’s me! Your Grunkle Stan!” Steven exclaimed, barely managing to hold back another amused snicker. “How’s my favorite niece and nephew on this beautiful morning?”

“Aw, we’re doing great, Grunkle Stan!” Mabel chimed, clearly charmed by the ‘conman’s’ high spirits. 

“What’s got you in such a good mood?” Dipper asked, crossing his arms. “What, did you finally win one of those ‘win a thousand bucks every week’ sweepstakes you’re always entering?”

“Nope, even better,” Steven shook his head. “I’ve got a secret.”

“Ooo, a secret?” Mabel asked, instantly intrigued. “Oh! Wait! I think I know! Grunkle Stan…” Her smile widened into a coy, knowing smirk. “Do you have a girlfriend?!”

“Um… no,” Steven said plainly. “The secret I have is even better than that!”

“Might it have anything to do with why you’re acting so… weird?” Dipper ventured, raising a perplexed eyebrow at the ‘conman’. “Because no offense, Grunkle Stan, but you don’t really seem like… well, you.”

“That’s because… I’m not!” Steven winked, catching both of the twins off guard. 

“Uh… what do you mean?” Mabel frowned, not following. 

“I mean… I’m not actually Mr. Pines!” Steven finally revealed. “I’m--oh, wait! This’ll be more fun if you guess who I really am!”

“Easy,” Mabel snapped her fingers. “You’re Amethyst! ‘Cause she can and has shapeshifted into Stan a bunch of times before. Mostly to play pranks on people, but joke’s on you Amethyst, cause we’re too smart to fall for it this time!”

“Uh, one problem with that theory of yours, Mabel,” Dipper pointed out. “Amethyst is usually, you know, purple when she shapeshifts into people? And I doubt even her Stan impression is that good.”

“Dipper’s right, I’m not Amethyst,” Steven grinned proudly as he crossed his arms. “I’m actually… drumroll, please!” Mabel readily offered that drumroll with a pair of pencil’s against the nightstand, even though Dipper didn’t join in on the excitement as he simply kept a cautious eye on ‘Stan’. At least until he finally revealed who he really was. “Steven! Ta da!”

“Whaaaat?!” both twins exclaimed in equally dumbfounded surprise.

“No way,” Dipper shook his head, immediately doubtful. 

“Whoa, Steven!” Mabel, on the other hand, readily believed it. “Did you shapeshift into Grunkle Stan?”

“Not exactly,” Steven chuckled. “You guys know how I was able to go into the minds of one of those Watermelon Stevens a while back? I think I can do that with people now too! That’s how I woke up this morning with my mind in Mr. Pines’ body! Pretty cool, huh?”

“Oh my gosh! Heck yeah it is!” Mabel exclaimed, absolutely amazed. “What’s being a super old man like? Are you all stiff and crinkly because of the arthritis setting in?”

“A little, yeah, but I’m getting used to it,” Steven said, stretching out the best he could. “What do you think, Dipper?”

“Isn’t Steven-Stan the coolest?” Mabel added, sharing the young Gem’s eager smile. 

Dipper, however, refused to adopt that smile himself, the shared levity completely lost on him as he instead looked to Steven, stern disapproval clear on his face. Especially as he thought of exactly what this bizarre turn of events, of what someone completely taking over the body of someone else, reminded him so very much of. “...I don’t like this,” he said plainly, deciding not to go any further into why. At least not right now. 

“Aw, why not?” Steven frowned, confused. 

“C’mon, don’t be such a stick-in-the-mud, bro-bro,” Mabel huffed petulantly. “Even you’ve gotta admit this is the most amazing thing to ever happen. Or… at least to happen this week; a lot of really crazy things happen to us after all.”

Dipper said nothing, instead crossing his arms as he glared away from the pair almost bitterly. While his discomfort was somewhat lost on Mabel, Steven did take note of it. And even if he didn’t quite understand exactly why Dipper seemed to be so upset, that didn’t mean the young Gem wasn’t still quite concerned all the same. “Dipper?” he ventured, starting to reach a hand out toward him. “Are you-”

“Oh my gosh, Steven!” Mabel suddenly interjected, breaking through with an excited gasp. “You know we have to tell Grunkle Ford about this. He’ll totally flip when he gets a load of the ‘new Stan’, if ya know what I mean.”

“Oh, well, actually I already ran into Mr. Ford on the way up here,” Steven said, picking up a small smile once more. “And he was completely fooled! He really thought I was Mr. Pines! Isn’t that crazy?”

“The craziest!” Mabel readily agreed. 

“In fact, I even--wait,” the young Gem stopped short, his eyes widening as a sudden idea came to him. One that could very well accomplish what nothing else so far really had. “You guys… what if… we use this as a way to help Mr. Pines and Mr. Ford finally make up?”

“Oh?” Mabel asked, curious. “Whatcha got in mind, ‘Mr. Pines’?”

“I can go talk to Mr. Ford,” Steven began. “And he’ll think I’m Mr. Pines. That way I can finally get him to open up and talk about he really feels about his brother-”

“Oh! And then you can go into Grunkle Ford’s body and do the same thing with Stan!” Mabel finished. “And then they’ll finally make up and be best friends again without even realizing it! Steven, that’s a brilliant idea!”

“No, that’s a horrible idea,” Dipper interjected, looking between the pair in absolute disbelief that they’d both be so on board with such an underhanded scheme. “Steven, even if this plan of yours does somehow work, then it won’t be Stan and Ford making up; it’ll be you doing it for them. Isn’t that just a little bit--or should I say really--manipulative?”

“...Yeah, maybe it is...” Steven frowned, rubbing his, or rather the conman’s, arm apprehensively. 

“But nothing else has worked so far!” Mabel countered. “The camping trip, Emerald City, they’ve all been big huge busts! We need to face it, Dipper; if nothing is going to get those two talking on their own, then maybe it’s time for somebody else, somebody in disguise like Steven here, to step in to help give them a tiny little… nudge in the right direction.”

“That’s true too,” Steven noted thoughtfully. “Sure, it may not be the best way of doing things, but it is a way, one that might actually work too. And as long as it ends up with Mr. Pines and Mr. Ford getting along again, then that’s all that really matters, right?”

“Right!” Mabel nodded, assured that this idea could succeed. Dipper, on the other hand, was still absolutely, adamantly against it. 

“I can’t believe you guys,” he said, shaking his head disdainfully. “Steven, you should just… get out Stan’s body and back into your own and forget this whole ridiculous plan before it can all come crashing down. Because trust me, it’s not going to work.”

“Aw, says you,” Mabel rebuffed with a wave of her hand. “You never think our ideas are any good, Dipper, just admit it.”

“Well even if I don’t, at least I usually try to help you guys make them work,” Dipper countered crossly. “But this one? I’m sorry, but I refuse to have any parts of this. You guys are on your own.”

“Dipper…” Steven said softly, faltering with an uneasy, fretful frown. And yet, Mabel was much more openly frustrated and annoyed by her brother’s seemingly stubborn refusal to lend them a helping hand. 

“Fine! We’ll just get someone else to help us,” she huffed petulantly turning on her heel to leave. “Then we’ll see just how ‘horrible’ this plan is after Stan and Ford have finally hugged everything out like they should have done a long time ago! C’mon, Steven, let’s get started.”

As Mabel coldly headed out, Steven turned to join her, though not before looking back toward Dipper one last time. By now, he’d completely turned away from the pair, his arms tightly crossed as he refused to so much as even acknowledge their exit. Briefly, the young Gem considered making things right with him first, but at the same time, he knew he was quite ill-suited to, especially since he’d already largely made up his mind about the course of action they were going to go through with. And besides, Steven figured, there would always be time to smooth things over with Dipper later; now was the time to finally, finally sort things out between Stan and Ford instead. 

At the same time, Dipper remained still, refusing to budge on his stance against assisting in such an asinine plan. All the while, however, he was still trying to shake the sinking dread, the perpetual reminder of an all-too-painful point in the past that he couldn’t help but recall every time he so much as thought about the fact that Steven could so easily enter and take over the body of someone else without even really trying at all. The Watermelon Steven had been one thing, but with Stan, it was as though everything had changed. And as he stood there, he hoped with practically everything he had that in light of such a change, his instant misgivings over the the young Gem’s peculiar new power wouldn’t be proven right after all.

“Wait, I’m… confused,” Connie shook her head, trying to process everything Mabel and ‘Stan’ had just relayed to her. “So… you’re not Mr. Pines… you’re… Steven?”

“Well… yeah!” Steven grinned. “But I am in Mr. Pines’ body, so… I technically I am Mr. Pines while being Steven. Oof, I can’t say I blame you for being confused, Connie. This is tricky for even me to wrap my head around…”

“...Steven, this is really weird,” Connie said, point blank, looking to the ‘conman’ incredulously. 

“Weird and cool!” Mabel interjected brightly. “And it’s about to be exactly what we need to finally help Stan and Ford be the ‘Best Bros Forever” that they’re supposed to be! Mostly ‘cause Steven is way better at getting people to like him than Stan is, no offense to him.”

“What are you talking about, Mabel?” Steven frowned. “Tons of people like Mr. Pines! Like us, and Soos, and Amethyst, and… uh… um… hm…”

“Um… guys?” Connie spoke up apprehensively. “Don’t you think this whole plan of yours to help Mr. Pines and Mr. Ford out, while good-intentioned, might just be a little… morally ambiguous? And shady?”

“Aw, now you’re sounding like Dipper,” Mabel huffed, exasperated. “Just think of it like one of those means to an end sort of dealies, where it doesn’t super matter how we get there, just as long as we get there. It’s like Grunkle Stan himself always says: ‘sometimes ya gotta break a few bones to make an omelet’.”

“I think you mean eggs, not bones,” Connie said, deadpan.

“Nah, pretty sure Stan said ‘bones’...” Mabel mused before letting out a sharp gasp upon spotting Ford emerge from the shack, not too far away from their current meeting space outside it. “There’s Grunkle Ford! Go on, Steven, put your relationship-repairing skills into action! And don’t forget, you’ve really gotta sell the whole ‘you’re Stan’ thing, ok?”

“Already way ahead of you on that,” Steven winked, raising himself to a confident posture to match his brazen grin. “‘Stan’s the name, and relationship-repairing is my game!’ How’s that?”

“Uh… maybe a bit too on the nose,” Connie frowned. 

“Eh, you’ll figure something out,” Mabel said, unconcerned as she began pushing the young Gem forward. “Now go on out there and glue those two broken teacups back together again!”

Steven nodded, ready to do just that as he left the girls behind to watch whatever happened next from a safe distance away. “So… what should we do when this eventually ends up going wrong?” Connie asked, worried. 

“Nothing, cause it’s totally not gonna go wrong,” Mabel grinned calmly. “Just watch and see.”

“H-heya, Mr.--I-I mean--Hi, Ford!” Steven greeted with a cheery smile as he walked up to the author, who was in the midst of checking over some sort of odd handheld beeping device. “Whatcha up to?”

“Oh, simply checking the house’s perimeter for an infestation of termants,” Ford explained dully. “A highly destructive ant-termite hybrid indigenous to Gravity Falls. Not that it’s any of your concern, Stanley, seeing as how you probably never even bothered to think about checking for them over the past 30 years.”

“Huh,” Steven frowned, unsure of what to really say. “Well… I-I’m sure if I had known about them, then I would have. But if you say they’re dangerous, then I’ll keep a close eye out for them. Thanks for the heads up!”

“...You’re welcome?” Ford raised a confused eyebrow as he looked over at his ‘brother’. “Still acting as strange as you were earlier, I see. Is there any… particular reason for your bizarrely… upbeat attitude today?”

“W-well, I just thought I’d have a much better day if I got through it with a smile instead of a grumpy old frown all the time,” Steven shrugged, hoping Ford would buy this. Though of course, he didn’t. 

“Pfft, please,” the author scoffed with something that almost sounded like a laugh. “Who are you and what have you done with my brother?”

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about!” the young Gem exclaimed, panicking that Ford might have already seen through his ruse. “I am your brother! T-totally not somebody else going around pretending to be him; that’d be just silly.”

“...Stanley, I was being sarcastic,” Ford remarked flatly. “Though… now that you mention it, you are acting noticeably… un-Stan-like…. Could it be that you’re not really who you claim to be after all…?”

“N-no!” Steven took in a sharp, anxious breath. “I-I really am Stan, I promise! I-I can prove it too! I like money, and uh… joy rides...” he listed, getting most of his ammo from Mabel as he glanced back at his shoulder at her, following the prompts she was signing to him. “And… watching TV and… prison?” he finished, offering the author a hopeful smile, one that Ford hardly returned. 

Instead, the author kept up his skeptical scowl as he looked past the ‘conman’ over to Mabel standing in the distance behind him. “Mabel, what exactly are you doing back there?” he asked, interrupting her continued attempts at pantomiming for Steven’s sake. 

“Oh!” Mabel gasped, caught off guard. “Uh… n-nothing suspicious! I-I… I’m just playing a friendly round of charades with my good friend Connie here!”

“Please don’t drag me into this,” Connie said stiffly, knowing that the situation had already far passed the line past ridiculous by this point. 

“Mm hmm…” Ford nodded dubiously as he turned back to his ‘brother’. “Stanley, I don’t know what kind of game you and the children are playing here, but I’d much prefer if you left me out of it. Thank you very much.”

And with that, the author turned to leave to continue his termant inspection, leaving Steven behind to realize that his plan was very quickly starting to fall apart. “W-wait! I-” the young Gem stopped short, letting out a disappointed sigh as the author walked out of earshot without even so much as thinking about looking back whatsoever. “...You’re welcome…”

“So, again I ask, since that the plan more or less has failed,” Connie began as Steven paced around the gift shop before her and Mabel. “What do we do now?”

“That’s a… good question,” Steven admitted with a small sigh. 

“I wouldn’t say the plan ‘failed’,” Mabel corrected as she leaned against the counter. “It’s just… hit a teeny tiny roadbump. But that doesn’t mean we should give up so easily! What we really need to do is find a way to get you and Ford to talk things out without any distractions getting in the way. And being a little more convincing with your whole Stan impression might not hurt either.”

“Yeah, I know…” Steven scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “I guess it doesn’t matter that I’m using his body; I’m still more Steven than I’ll ever be Stan…”

“Yeah, that’s… kind of obvious,” Connie noted, frowning. “But look at the bright side; your Stan act is pretty convincing in every way outside of, you know, the whole ‘acting’ part.”

The young Gem sighed tiredly as he lay his head down on the counter, clearly at a complete loss as to what to do from here. “This is a mess…”

“Uh, it better not be a mess. Especially not after we spent the entire shop from top to bottom like you told us to last night,” Wendy remarked as she and Soos stepped into the gift shop, returning from their break. 

“Oh, hey, you guys!” Steven greeted the pair with a friendly wave despite Mabel and Connie’s shared alarm over their arrival and just how candid Steven seemed to be over it, given the circumstances. “Sorry, I… wasn’t really talking about the shop. But just for the record, it looks great! You two really did an awesome job cleaning it!”

Clearly, both Soos and Wendy were caught off guard by such a kind remark, especially since such sentiments were usually so hard to come by when it came to ‘Stan’. “G-gee, thanks, Mr. Pines!” the handyman smiled warmly. “By the way, are you ok? Somethin’ seems a little… different about you…”

“Oh!” Steven gasped, remembering the ruse he was supposed to be keeping up. “Uh, n-no, everything’s fine. Stan--w-who is me--is A-ok! T-thanks for asking.”

“Mm… no, something totally up with you…” Wendy noted, narrowing her eyes at the ‘conman’ before turning to Mabel and Connie. “You guys got any idea as to what?”

“N-nope, not us!” Mabel said with a forced grin, one that Connie shared as she shrugged innocently. “Everything’s totally normal around here! A-and especially with Grunkle Stan here who’s just started out on his new Foolproof Path To Becoming a Nicer Person, a plan created by yours truly. Right, ‘Grunkle Stan’?”

For a moment, Steven simply looked down at Mabel, absolutely confused until she gave him a knowing wink that silently instructed him to agree. “Oh, uh, y-yeah, that’s absolutely right! N-no more, uh, ‘Sour Stan’ for me! F-from now on, you can just call me… ‘Sweet Stan’! Yeah…”

“Oh, ok!” Soos grinned, readily believing this. “Whatever you say, ‘Sweet Stan’! Huh, really has a nice ring to it.”

“Hm…” Wendy frowned, not buying this herself as she looked to the ‘conman’ doubtfully. “Alright, then let’s put this whole, ugh, ‘Sweet Stan’ thing to the test. Mr. Pines, can I have a raise?”

“Are you kidding? Of course you can!” Steven instantly exclaimed with an eager smile. “Hanging out with you is one of my favorite things about being at the Mystery Shack, Wendy! Same to you, Soos! In fact, you can both have raises! My treat.”

“Whoa, really?” Soos asked, amazed. 

“...Eh, you know what? As weird as this whole thing is, I think I’ll take it,” Wendy shrugged, aptly satisfied by her raise as she ventured pushing the limit just a bit further. “Do you think maybe we could have the rest of the day off too? Just for the heck of it?”

“I don’t see why not,” the young Gem grinned, hands on his hips. “It’s such a nice day outside, so why stay cooped up in here for it? Go on out and have some fun!”

“Wow! Thanks a ton, Mr. Pines!” Soos exclaimed, waving to ‘Stan’ and the girls as he began to head off, completely oblivious. 

“I still don’t know what’s going on around here but… eh, what do I care?” Wendy grinned, following the handyman out. “Free day off, here I come!”

The moment both Soos and Wendy left, Steven, Mabel, and Connie alike all let out a collective sigh of relief, glad that their cover hadn’t been entirely blown even if it had been seen through. “That was way too close…” the young Gem muttered, allayed, though only for a moment as an all new-problem made herself apparent. 

“What was too close?”

“Ah!” Steven gasped, stumbling backward as a certain purple Gem dropped down from her spot in the rafters. “A-Amethyst! What are you doing here?”

“Oh, ya know,” the purple Gem casually plopped down to take a seat on the counter. “Just hanging around.”

“Oh, would you say you hang out more like koalas or sloths?” Steven asked before quickly catching himself. “Uh… I-I’m asking for Steven.”

“...What?” Amethyst asked, confused. 

“Aha! D-don’t mind Mr. Pines, Amethyst,” Connie interjected with an awkward chuckle. “He’s not exactly… feeling himself today.”

“Boy, tell me about it,” Amethyst remarked, eyeing the ‘conman’ warily. “What’s all this I hear about you going all ‘soft’ and ‘sweet’, Stan? That’s not how you roll, never has been, never will be. And don’t you two go acting all innocent either,” she said to Mabel and Connie. “I know you’re both in on whatever dirty little secret Stan’s got up his sleeve here, so… spill it.”

“Uh… it’s… actually not that dirty,” Steven said, not seeing much harm in letting the purple Gem know. “Would you believe me if I told you I actually wasn’t Stan but I was really Steven and that I used my powers to accidentally send my mind into his body?”

For a moment or two, Amethyst stared at the young Gem blankly, as if baffled by this information before she simply shrugged in calm acceptance of it. “Eh yeah, I guess I would,” she said plainly. “I mean, it’s not like none of us have noticed that your powers can do some… pretty wacky stuff, Steven. Er, uh… Stan? Stanven?” 

“Ooo, if you and Grunkle Stan ever fused, Steven, Stanven would be a perfect fusion name for you guys!” Mabel pointed out, making sure to write the name down for future reference. 

“Sooo even if this whole thing was an ‘accident’,” Amethyst began, leaning toward the ‘conman’ curiously. “What exactly is your whole endgame here, Stevo?”

“Endgame?”

“Yeah, what’s the point of hijacking Stan’s body if you’re not gonna use it to have some fun?” the purple Gem grinned deviously. “You could drive his car around, crash it into a tree, use his credit card to buy a whole bunch of dumb stuff, the sky’s the limit! And the best part is, whenever you guys switch back or however that happens, then we’ll all get to see the look on his face when he realizes what happened, it’ll be hilarious!”

“Um, actually, Amethyst,” Steven interjected. “We were actually hoping to use this as an opportunity to patch things up between Mr. Pines and Mr. Ford…”

“Ew, seriously?” Amethyst groaned. “That’s so boring! And pointless. Those two old dorks hate each other. What makes you think you running around pretending to be Stan is gonna change that?”

“Well… we’ll never know until we try,” Steven shrugged, hopeful. “And maybe you might be able to help us, Amethyst! You’ve known both Mr. Pines and Mr. Ford for a long time, so maybe you could give us some advice? Especially when it comes to Mr. Pines. Let’s just say my impression of him… isn’t the best…”

“Yeah, no duh, you’re way too nice to make a good Stan,” Amethyst chuckled, somewhat amused. “And that’s ok. But while nice may be Steven’s thing, it sure as heck isn’t Stan’s.”

“Oh! I have an idea!” Mabel raised her hand enthusiastically. “Amethyst, you could Steven a lesson on how to be Stan so that he’ll be more convincing the next time he talks to Grunkle Ford. After all, I can’t really think of anybody who would know him better than you!”

“Tch, for better or worse,” Amethyst remarked sardonically, though ultimately she folded upon meeting the pleading expressions the kids were offering her. “But… fine. I guess I can hook you guys up. But only if we get to pull off a whole bunch of pranks using Stan’s body after this whole thing with Ford is over.”

“Um, Amethyst, I don’t know if that’s such a good-”

“Deal!” Mabel interrupted Connie, readily agreeing to such worrisome terms. 

“Thanks so much, Amethyst!” Steven cheered, not hesitating to show his gratefulness by embracing the purple Gem.

“Ah ah ah! Stan lesson numero uno,” Amethyst pushed away from him. “Stan is absolutely not a hugger.”

“Ah, right…” Steven frowned, backing off apprehensively. “...This is gonna be harder than I thought…”

The young Gem took in an anxious breath as him, Mabel, Connie, and Amethyst all rode the elevator down to Ford’s private study, hoping that their scheme would end in success this time. For the past hour or so, the purple Gem had drilled him in every tic and trait she knew Stan to have, essentially teaching him how to talk, walk, and overall act exactly as the conman would. And yet, even with those lessons in grumpy gruffness in mind, Steven was still resolved to be a bit softer in his approach than Stan likely would have been, all in the hopes of finally reaching Ford so they could begin finally bridging the broken gap between the brothers once and for all. 

Or at least, get halfway there for now. 

As soon as the elevator reached the basement’s second floor, the group split up, Amethyst, Mabel, and Connie taking to concealing themselves along the sides of the study so they could watch the encounter that was about to unfold. Steven, however, continued forward, steadying his resolve as he quietly approached Ford, who was so engrossed in writing in his journal that he didn’t even notice the young Gem’s arrival. At least until he spoke up to greet him. 

“Uh, hey, Mr. Fo--oh, right! I mean, heya, ‘sixer’,” Steven began, remembering Amethyst’s pointers on how Stan would address Ford in particular. “How’s it, um… hanging?”

Ford stood upright with a start at this, spinning around to face his ‘brother’ in appalled shock. “Wha--Stanley?!” he exclaimed in disbelief. “W-where--how did you--what are you doing down here?! How did you even find out about this room? It’s a secret study for a reason, you know.”

“Oh, um… Amethyst told me about it?” Steven ventured, getting the excuse from the purple Gem herself as he looked over his shoulder at her as she remained in hiding alongside the girls. 

“Ugh, of course she did…” Ford groaned, exasperated. “Well, since you’re down here, what is that you want? In case you haven’t noticed, I’m very busy.”

“Oh, I’m sorry!” Steven readily apologized, only for Amethyst to clear her throat to catch his attention. The purple Gem shook her head disapprovingly, reminding him once again that ‘Stan’ needed to drop the manners than Steven always made sure to mind so carefully. “Uh, I-I mean… What, you’re busy working on your, uh, ‘nerd books’ again?” he asked, trying his hardest to carry an air of dry sarcasm in his tone. 

“Stanley, how many times do I have to tell you to stop calling my important research ‘nerd books’!” Ford snapped, not even noticing as the ‘conman’ flinched back, startled by his harsh tone. “Now, if you’ll please state your business down here then be on your way, that would be-”

“I-I wanted to hang out with you!” Steven exclaimed, completely forgetting what Amethyst had told him in an attempt at salvaging this before it was too late. 

“You what?” Ford asked, baffled. 

“You know… hang out?” the young Gem tried again with a small smile, ignoring the disgruntled look the purple Gem was sending his way all the while. “Like I guess we probably always used to do when we were kids? I just, I mnea… w-wouldn’t it be nice if you guys--er, if we finally started getting along again? Just like old times…?”

For a moment, Ford’s expression almost seemed to soften at this, though it quickly grew harsh once more as he drew in a sharp, almost offended breath as he shoved away the hand Steven was offering to him. “What kind of fool do you take me for?” he asked, his voice low and undoubtedly angry. 

“W-what do you mean?”

“It’s it obvious?!” the author exclaimed harshly. “You keep pretending like we can move on and act like nothing ever happened, but we can’t Stanley! I missed out on my dream school, I spent 30 years straggling between countless dimensions, barely surviving, all because of you! And yet you want to just forget about all of that without even admitting that you were wrong? Without even saying that you’re sorry?!” 

“W-well, then I am sorry!” Steven said frantically, hoping to give the author what he wanted to hear in the hopes that it would work. But of course, it didn’t. 

“But I don’t believe you!” Ford exclaimed incredulously, both fury and the first inklings of what almost sounded like grief starting to leak into his tone. “You never act like you’re sorry! You just want to act like it’s all over and done but it’s not! You’re always off living in your own little fantasy world, just like you used to do when we were kids! It’s like… it’s like you don’t even care…”

The young Gem froze, genuinely shocked as he noticed tears starting to well up in the author’s eyes. Tears that he rushed to wipe away but tears all the same. “H-hey…” he reached a shaking hand out in an attempt to comfort him. “Don’t be sad… I-”

“Don’t patronize me, Stanley,” Ford huffed bitterly, pushing his hand away once more. “After all, we both know you’re only doing this for your own gain, just like everything else you’ve ever done!”

“That’s not true!” Steven tried once more but it was very clear by now that Ford was having none of it as he outright pushed his ‘brother’ away. 

“I’ve had enough, Stanley,” Ford sighed tiredly. “Every time I so much as think about making amends with you, you always manage to remind me just how much of a mistake that would really be and I’m done. Now get out.”

“B-but wait!” Steven protested as the author continued pushing him back toward the elevator. “I-I just wanted to fix everything!”

“You only ever try to fix anything when it’s convenient for you!” Ford shot back fiercely. 

“Y-you don’t understand-” the young Gem tried to counter, but once again the author sharply cut him off. 

“No, Stanley, I understand perfectly,” Ford finally stopped just shy of the elevator. “You want me to thank you, to need you; you always have, but I don’t. I never have! I’ve been just fine without you for well over 30 years now and I’ll be even better after we finally part ways. And I, for one, can’t wait until we finally do. Now GOODBYE, Stan!” 

With that, the author shoved his ‘brother’ into the elevator, pressing the button that would send him back up to the shack’s upper levels. However, right before he could, Steven took in a sudden breath, his regret and and guilt having built up to unbearable levels as he finally decided to reveal the truth before it was too late. “I’m NOT Stan!” he shouted just as the elevator doors closed on him. 

Taken aback, Ford was quick to call the elevator back down to the study, curiosity getting the better of him. When the elevator doors opened again, they revealed ‘Stan’ still standing there, tears streaming down his cheeks and his expression awash in genuine remorse. A sight that was more than enough to surprise the author even more. “What…?” he asked, looking over the ‘conman’ cautiously. 

“I’m actually… Steven,” the young Gem confessed with a sad sigh. “I accidentally used my powers to send my mind into Mr. Pines’ body a-and then we thought we use this to help you guys make up but… it didn’t work, obviously…”

“...We?” Ford raised an eyebrow, still unsure of what to really think about such a strange story as a whole. 

“Yeah… we…” Mabel spoke up, stepping out into the open alongside Connie and Amethyst. 

“Mabel? Connie? Amethyst?” Ford turned to the trio, even more confused than before. “What are you three doing down here? Actually, you know what? Forget that. Let’s focus back on the part about Steven’s mind supposedly being in Stan’s body…”

“I just wanted to help you guys,” Steven frowned earnestly, wiping some of his tears away. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings like this, Mr. Ford! I’m so sorry!”

“...Alright, so maybe you actually are Steven…” Ford noted, his doubt starting to dissipate somewhat. “Stanley would never apologize to me, after all.”

“That’s what I tried telling him,” Amethyst remarked, crossing her arms. “But did he listen to me or any of my ‘What Would Stan Do’ lessons? Nooooo, ‘course not. He had to get all soft and sweet. Tch, if the real Stan was here, he’d totally be gagging all over the place right now.”

“Speaking of Stanley…” Ford began thoughtfully. “I’m assuming you somehow entered his mindscape, Steven. But that begs the question… is Stan inside of yours?”

“Wait, do you mean Mr. Pines’ mind could be inside of Steven’s body?” Connie asked, bewildered. 

“I’m… not sure,” the author frowned, turning back to Steven in the hopes that he’d know more about his mysterious powers than anyone else would. “Would he?”

“...I don’t know,” Steven said starkly, having not even considered the possibility until now. 

“You don’t know?!” Ford exclaimed, aptly alarmed. 

“Maybe we should check?” Mabel ventured, feeling the rising panic in the room. 

“Uh, ya think?!” Amethyst exclaimed, rushing to the elevator first. The others all quickly piled onto it, frantically pressing the button until it took them to the shack’s main floor. From there, they all rushed out of the building altogether, knowing that the temple would be the best place to check for the young Gem’s body. If it wasn’t there, then there would be no telling where it might be. 

However just as the group burst out of the shack, Soos’ truck just so happened to be pulling up with both of the shack’s employees in tow. “Thanks again for the ride, Soos,” Wendy said, stepping out of the vehicle.

“No problem, dude,” Soos said, grinning as he tipped his hat to her.

 “Can’t believe I forgot my jacket here again,” the cashier rolled her eyes. “Better hurry in and go get it before Stan changes his mind about our day off.”

“Oh hey, speaking of Stan, there he is!” Soos pointed out the group ran past them toward the temple. 

“Huh, wonder where they’re going in such a hurry,” Wendy said with a curious frown. 

“Wanna find out?”

“Not really-”

“Too late! We’re emotionally invested now!” the handyman exclaimed, running to catch up with the others. Even if she wasn’t too keen on going herself, Wendy ultimately let out a sigh of defeat as she joined in the chase too, albeit at a much slower, more lax pace. 

At the same time, Steven, Ford, Connie, Mabel, and Amethyst all reached the temple, dashing up the porch stairs only for the young Gem to find another obstacle barring their path. “I-It’s locked!” he cried, trying his hardest to push against the screen door to get it open. As he tried rushing for it, he ultimately bounced right off and rolled back, leaving them with no way in. At least, not until Ford easily managed to kick the door down without much effort at all. 

“Whoa, breaking and entering into Steven’s house?” Wendy asked as she and Soos watched this as they continued their way up toward the temple. “This suddenly got a lot more interesting.”

“I’ll say!” Soos eagerly agreed. “But um… doesn’t Amethyst already live there?”

“Hey, man, nobody ever said you can’t sneak into your own place,” Wendy shrugged with a grin. “I do it all the time.”

As the larger group rushed into the house, they wasted no time looking around for the young Gem’s body, Connie spotting it first as it lay listlessly on the bed upon on the loft. “Steven! There you are!” she called, pointing the young Gem’s way back to his own body. The others all ran after him, taking just the briefest of moments to take in the sight of Steven’s real body, still sleeping soundly before them, with no signs of Stan inhabiting it really apparently. 

“H-how do you switch back?” Mabel looked to Steven, or ‘Stan’ as it were, anxiously. 

“I-I don’t know!” Steven shook his head, gripping his slumbering body by the shirt and shaking him roughly. “Come on! Wake up!”

“Whoa, what’s going on?” Soos asked as he and Wendy stepped through the house’s broken-down door. 

“I have no idea but I gotta say,” the cashier placed her hands on her hips. “This was not what I was expecting to see on my day off.”

By now, Steven had gotten desperate, and aside from shaking his sleeping self up, he’d also taken to lightly tapping him on the face in a hectic attempt at rousing himself, one that didn’t seem to be working. “Augh! Wake UP!” Frustrated, the young Gem finally lashed out, finally slapping himself hard enough to finally, and miraculously do the trick. 

In an instant, Steven found himself back in his own body, his own eyes flying open as he bolted upright in bed. However, he barely even had time to settle back into his own skin before he noticed the body he’d just been in starting to sway. Stan seemed to be only barely conscious, his eyes rolling back into his head as he began to fall towards the edge of the loft, nearly falling off of it entirely until Ford happened to catch him by his suit coat. As the author pulled him back it, the conman’s rather rough fall to the floor was finally enough to snap him fully back into his own mind, even if he still did so rather sluggishly. 

“Ugh… I feel like I just got hit by a truck… and I should know because I have been hit by a truck…” Stan muttered, shaking his aching head to clear it before he properly took stock of his surroundings. “Uh… how the heck did I get here? And what’s everybody doing here? Is there a party or somethin’?”

“Uh… not exactly…” Connie said with a worried frown. 

“Grunkle Stan, don’t get mad…” Mabel began just as apprehensively. 

“Mad about what?” the conman raised an eyebrow as he picked himself up to stand. 

“Steven really didn’t mean to-” Mabel continued, though once again, Stan cut her off. 

“Mean to what?” he asked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously as he turned to the young Gem.  

For his part, Steven let out a tight, anxious laugh to try and ease the growing tension. Even so, he ultimately did admit the truth, knowing there was no use in trying to hide it. “I… might have… spent the day… with my mind… in your body…”

Stan’s initial reaction to this news was quite apt, shock overtaking his expression, though strangely he was quick to replace it with a look of stoic acceptance. “Yeah, that sounds about right,” he said stiffly, not really giving too much of a reaction at all outside of that. 

“Y-you’re not… upset?” Steven ventured, gripping his bed’s blanket tightly. 

“Oh, no, I’m furious,” Stan said with a surprisingly steady smile. “In fact, it’s taking just about every inch of self control I have to stay calm right now and believe me, it’s not easy.”

“Stanley, please don’t make a scene,” Ford huffed, already anticipating his brother’s known temper’s tipping point. 

“Don’t worry, I won’t,” Stan assured. “At least not in here.” With that, the conman turned on his heel, heading down the loft and passing by Soos and Wendy on the way out. “What are you two doing here?!” he asked them with a harsh scowl. “Get back to work!”

“B-but what about our day off?” Soos asked, frowning. 

“Day off?” Stan scoffed incredulously. “Give me a break! You heard what I said: back to work, now!”

“Ugh, I knew it was too good to be true,” Wendy sighed as the conman left. 

At the same time, Amethyst eagerly hopped down from the loft, hoping to catch up with the conman as she let out an amused laugh. “Aw man, here comes the freakout I’ve been waiting for,” she grinned, rushing to join Stan right outside. “This is something I don’t wanna miss.”

And sure enough, she didn’t for as soon as Stan stepped outside onto the porch, he finally let his anger out in the form of a single large, loud scream. A scream that Steven simply flinched at the sound of, knowing that once again, another plan to bring the bickering brothers together again had fallen through completely. And this time he only really had himself to blame. 

Steven stopped just shy of the gift shop’s entrance, letting out a fretful sigh before finally deciding to enter, hoping that he’d be able to make amends for what happened the previous day. Fortunately, it seemed as though he’d get that chance for sure enough Stan was sitting at the counter, boredly tallying up his profits for the day. He didn’t so much as even look up as the young Gem entered or even as he approached the counter, but all the same, Steven offered him a friendly, if not somewhat awkward greeting all the same. 

“Uh… h-hey, Mr. Pines,” he said with a small smile, though Stan said nothing in response, his expression remaining cold as he kept his eyes on his cash. Even so, Steven continued. “Um… I’m really sorry about yesterday. I know it’s not much, but… I got you a card.” His smile picked up a bit as he slid said card, one that read ‘hang in there!’, onto the counter. “It’s got a koala and a sloth.”

Stan finally glanced up at this, first at the card before looking to Steven himself. And try as he might to remain silent and stoic, he couldn’t help but crack a small smile upon noticing just how genuine the young Gem’s apology really was. “Ugh, kid, put that pout of yours away,” the conman sighed tiredly. “I’m not mad, at least not anymore. By now, I’ve come to expect weird stuff like this happening around here, especially whenever you and the Gems are involved. But what I can’t figure out is why you did it in the first place…”

“Well, it was an accident at first…” Steven admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “But then I kept it going because I thought… I thought maybe while I was in your body, I could finally help you and Mr. Ford get along again.”

Stan let out something of a sharp, almost bitter snicker at this, shaking his head incredulously. “That’s what you were trying to do, kid? If you ask me, then you tried way too hard to fix something that’s been way too broken to even try to fix for years now.”

“W-what do you mean?” Steven asked with a worried frown. 

The conman’s sardonic grin faded at this, his expression turning more serious as he looked away. “Er… f-forget it,” he said dismissively, not wanting to think on the matter any more than that right now. “Still, your heart was in the right place, so I guess I can’t fault you too much for basically hijacking my body for a day. Just as long as you promise to never do that to me again.”

“I think I can do that,” Steven chuckled, allayed that there were no hard feelings. 

Stan smiled once more at this, fondly ruffling the young Gem’s hair and eliciting another warm laugh from him in the process. “Ya know, Steven,” he began thoughtfully, kindly even. “You’re a good kid. But… you might wanna ease up a bit on your approach to helping people. You tend to come on… just a little too strong sometimes, if you know what I mean.”

“Ease up…” the young Gem repeated, not entirely sure what this advice meant, though he still valued it all the same. “I’ll make sure to remember that. Thanks, Mr. Pines.”

“No, thank you, kid,” Stan remarked with something of a wry smirk. “Knowing Amethyst, she probably tried to rope you into using my body for some of her nutso pranks, so thanks for not following through on any of that.”

“No problem,” Steven laughed brightly, a bout of levity that Stan soon joined in on. And yet, as that laughter eventually died down, the young Gem couldn’t help but steal a glance between the conman and the vending machine on the far side of the shack, behind which lay the elevator that led to the study that Ford was certainly working within, alone as he usually was. And as he did, Steven finally started to understand exactly what Stan’s advice truly meant. For maybe his approach, his plan had been wrong all along. Maybe, instead of trying to find ways to push and prod the brothers along to reach common ground, that ground was a place they’d have to find on their own. Maybe, just maybe, the only ones who really could repair what had been broken between Stan and Ford for so long now… were none other than Stan and Ford themselves. 

And yet, as Steven took solace in the hope that they someday would, he didn’t happen to see who was discreetly peeking in from the den to watch the whole exchange. Dipper let out a small sigh as he pressed back against the wall, closing his eyes as he absently rubbed his left shoulder, a shoulder that had once been heavily injured, nearly gravely so, all while somebody else had been in control of his body. All while he’d lost control of everything that was rightfully his own, all because someone else had decided to take it for a cruel and callous joy ride instead. 

And as much as Dipper didn’t want to suspect Steven, of all people, of such a thing, he couldn’t help but wonder, perhaps even fear, just how far that power, so very similar to a power someone else possessed, could really go.

Next: 

[shima-draws]

Remember that one episode in Gravity Falls where Stan loses a bet to Mabel and does that stan-wrong-dance?? Can you write a drabble where Ford finds the footage pls the imagery is so freaking funny lmao

[[Send me a fandom/ship/prompt and I’ll write a drabble for it!]]

I’M SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG BUT I FINALLY FINISHED…I had a total blast writing it tho!!

I kinda took your prompt and went way beyond the original concept anjsakbnda so there’s some angst in here because Stan’s a self-sacrificial idiot and Ford almost loses his shit, but I hope you like it nonetheless :’)

Also this ended up being nearly 4k words so. Yeah. That’s why it took so long LOL but hopefully you got more than what you asked for!

This is also on Archive, if you’d rather read it there!

——————————————————–

Ford is absolutely furious.

Now, he’s no stranger to anger, having fallen victim to it many, many times throughout his life. His bouts of rage usually result in catastrophe if he isn’t careful. A prime example: letting Stan get kicked out of the house forty years ago. Or, when his irritation caused a fight between them that ended up in Stan’s permanently scarred shoulder and his own thirty year trip into the multiverse. It’s never simple and it usually doesn’t end well, especially if Stan happens to be on the other side of the argument.

This time, however, is a bit different.

It’s one thing if his brother has done something to piss him off. It’s another if Stanley does something so unbelievably stupid it scares the absolute shit out of Ford. He doesn’t like being angry. He doesn’t like being angry as a result of him being terrified even more.

And so, he’s taken to pacing in his study, trying to let off some steam. He’d separated himself from Stan after lecturing at him for twenty-five minutes about the very many reasons why Stan shouldn’t have charged right into battle against a particularly violent group of bullasps (an enormous wasp-bull anomaly hybrid, helpfully named by Mabel). Stan had come this close to being pierced by one of their enormous stingers—and if he had, well. The venom they secrete works so quickly Ford doubts he would have been able to do anything about it in time. And that is what had triggered his hysteria.

Mabel sits on one of the oversized chairs in the room, munching on a bag of popcorn. She’d followed him after his frustration had shot through the ceiling, needing to get away before he said anything he’d come to regret. Dipper had stayed behind to admonish Stan further, but not as harshly as Ford originally had.

It’s been almost a year since Ford and Stan left Gravity Falls to travel the world together. They’ve had plenty of arguments and heated late night discussions on board the Stan O’ War II, but they’d never escalated to this level. The two of them hashed out all of their past history and mistakes, and they’ve been attached at the hip ever since—but Stanley’s always had a bit of a reckless steak, and Ford will never admit it, but he’s unbelievably overprotective of his twin, especially after the whole shooting-him-with-a-memory-gun thing. (They try not to talk about that, much, mostly because it makes Ford feel so guilty it brings him to tears, and Stan hates seeing him like that.) This sort of takes the cake for every previous situation where Stan has willingly put himself in danger on their journey out at sea. Ford can’t remember the last time he’s felt so high strung.

“I just can’t believe him,” Ford hisses, his fingers tangled in his hair. His heart is still pounding, fear spiking through his veins and making him as taught as a bowstring. “Out of all the reckless, most monumentally moronic—”

“I know you’re upset, Grunkle Ford, but we took care of it!” Mabel points out, trying to be helpful. She does sound worried, though, if her expression has anything to say about it. “Those things ran right off after I used that cannon to shoot that t-shirt into the woods! Who knew bullasps are actually attracted to red things? I thought regular bulls hated the color red!”

Ford can’t help but smile a bit at her observation. “Actually, regular bulls are red-green colorblind, Mabel. It’s not that they particularly dislike the color red, it’s the action of a matador moving their cape that stimulates hyper aggression in—wait, wait, that’s not the point!” He heaves out a sigh. He turns to her and frowns. “Do you—do you even know why I’m so furious with Stanley right now?”

Mabel makes a funny sound with her mouth, her legs kicking back and forth, and then she answers. “‘Cause he shook his butt at them and told them to shove it where the sun don’t shine?”

Ford groans and pinches the bridge of his nose. Could Stan have any less tact? The children are almost 14 now, but still.

“That’s part of it,” he grumbles. “But it’s his insistence on constantly throwing himself headlong into danger before even considering the consequences of doing so. Stanley is—he’s ridiculously defensive of his family, which isn’t a bad quality to have at all, but…it gets him into unnecessary trouble. A lot.”

Mabel looks truly concerned now, which is good. “Is that why you looked like Dipper in the middle of a Wendy crisis when Grunkle Stan almost got hit by one of those super giant sharp and pointy stingers?”

Ford considers telling her that the venom would have killed Stanley in minutes, but then decides he should probably spare her those morbid details.

“Yes. It would have been…very catastrophic if he’d actually come into contact with one.” Ford slumps, suddenly feeling exhausted. “I’ve come this close to losing him once, I…the mere thought of possibly losing him again, and him ending up somewhere I couldn’t ever possibly reach…���

His throat tightens and he feels pressure building behind his eyelids. Emotion makes his heart feel like it’s being constricted, squeezed tight, and he swallows. He’d gone half his life without his brother and he regrets every single minute he didn’t spend by Stanley’s side. Almost losing him to Bill was a huge wake up call, and Ford’s barely been without him since then.

“So that’s why you’re so frowny,” Mabel chirps. Ford can’t tell if she’s totally oblivious to the seriousness of the situation or if she’s just trying to act upbeat for his sake—but he appreciates it either way. “You were pretty scared for him, huh, Grunkle Ford?”

Ford wipes his eyes and nods wordlessly. In the past he might have brushed her off but he knows better now—his family is the most important thing he has, and confiding in them when times are difficult is usually the best course of action.

The young teen hums thoughtfully, scratching her chin, and then her eyes practically light up.

“Wait, hold on! I have an idea,” she says excitedly. Her smile turns wicked. Oh, no. Ford knows that look. He’s been on the receiving end of it many times before.

“Grunkle Ford, have you seen the Stan Wrong Song?”

Ford tilts his head. “The…what?”

Mabel giggles insanely. “The Stan Wrong Song! It’s a song we forced Grunkle Stan to sing after he lost a bet to me.”

“Stanley lost a bet.”

“Uh-huh!”

“To you.” If Ford didn’t know her so well, he’d think she was lying. It’s extremely hard to believe, knowing how brilliant his twin is in the conning department.

Her grin becomes wider, if that’s even possible. Her braces glint in the dim light. “We bet to see who could make more money—me, taking over Grunkle Stan’s position as a morally ambiguous tour guide, or him on vacation. And I won the bet by a dollar! A dollar, Grunkle Ford!”

“Incredible,” Ford breathes, shaking his head.

“We made him sing it at least thirty-six times,” his nibling tells him. She really could give Stan a run for his money with how mischievous she is.

“Or, wait, maybe it was thirty-eight? Anyway, it was a whole lot! We were all singing it for weeks. The power of catchy made up songs prevailed! Grunkle Stan says he hates it, but I hear him singing it in the bathroom sometimes when he thinks I can’t hear him!”

The older man chuckles at that, amused.

“Anyway,” Mabel sing-songs. “Since Grunkle Stan was a dumb-dumb and almost got speared today and scared the bejeebers out of all of us, I think this is a good opportunity to bust that video out and give him a good ol’ dose of shame!”

“You truly are a peculiar girl, Mabel,” Ford says in wonder.

The brunette beams at this, her smile almost blinding.

“Come on,” she says, grabbing his wrist. Her grip is surprisingly strong, and so is the way she tugs him along with her. “It’s payback time! Revenge tastes sweet, like gummy worms!”

——————————————————–

Ten minutes later they’re seated together in the living room, prepared for the show. Mabel has already plugged her phone into the TV, which can broadcast anything she wants, thanks to a helpful little device Fiddleford had made for the family a while back. (It definitely helped when Ford wanted to show off all the videos he’d taken while he and Stan were out at sea on a larger screen for the whole family to watch.)

Stan is nowhere to be seen—which Ford supposes is a good sign as any. He’d rather not have Stan confiscate Mabel’s phone before Ford even gets to watch whatever the young girl is intent on showing him. Dipper’s probably still keeping watch over Stan, so that’s reassuring. He’s sure that there’s nobody more capable of watching his twin, except maybe Soos.

Mabel is practically vibrating in her seat, posture tense with excitement, and Ford fidgets. He’s honestly not sure what to expect—but when the video finally loads and the first thing he sees is Stan in a neon orange track suit covered with sparkles, Ford blinks in shock. He definitely didn’t expect that.

His twin looks like he’d rather be chased by a horrendous monster of the deep than perform in front of the camera, and the deadpan expression on his face has Ford releasing an amused snort.

Stan glances offscreen, gruff and irritated. “Ugh, l-look, I’m not gonna—”

Mabel’s voice interjects before he can finish protesting. “Do it!”

Stan begins to bounce as a song plays in the background. He looks so goofy doing it that Ford starts to giggle a little, the stress of the day rolling off his shoulders.

“I’m Stan and I was wrong.” Stan sings, dryly, with all the emotion of a desert cactus. “I’m singing the Stan Wrong Song.”

Something in Ford breaks, then—and he’s laughing, incredulously, sort of struck dumb by the whole situation. Mabel sniggers beside him. Stan starts to swing his arms, and Ford wheezes. His brother looks so foolish. Ford is absolutely reveling in it. (He’s so using this for blackmail material later.)

“I shouldn’t have taken that chance. Now here’s my remorseful dance,” Stan finishes, pouty and clearly embarrassed.

“Do the kicks!” Mabel’s voice calls out again, and Stan makes a feeble attempt at performing a kick, to which she demands them to be “Jazzier!”

It’s when Gompers comes in and starts a tug of war match with Stan that’s one for the history books that Ford loses it completely. The entire thing is just so wild and hysterical that he can’t help it, clutching at his side as he laughs and laughs and laughs. The video resets, going back to the beginning, and Ford happily sits through it again.

By the time the video loops for the fifth round Ford is howling with laughter, nearly bowled over by the force of it. His side has a stitch and it hurts and he’s pretty sure he’s crying but he can’t stop, too overwhelmed at the hilarity of his brother in a sparkly suit singing a song clearly meant to humiliate him—and maybe it’s the fact that Stan had had another close brush with death earlier and the built up tension from the incident that has him letting it all out through his chortles. Mabel is giggling madly beside him—whether she’s laughing at Stan or laughing at him laughing at Stan is unclear, but it’s contagious, and Ford can’t stop smiling.

God, how utterly ridiculous this all is. He loves his family.

The video is on its eighth loop and Ford is pretty sure he’s going to pass out from lack of oxygen when Stan bursts into the room, his eyes wide. Dipper follows close behind.

“What’s going on in—Ford?!”

Stan rushes over to him, his face drawn up in concern, and Ford’s heart melts a little. He might still be angry at his twin for scaring him half to death, but really, Stan’s mother hen tendencies never fail to make him smile.

“Ford—Jesus, you’re cryin’, Sixer! What the hell happened?”

Ford giggles and wipes the tears from his eyes, struggling to get his breathing back under control. “I’m—ahaha! I’m fine, Stanley.”

“With all the noise you were making, I thought you were dying,” Stan says with a worried frown. “It sounded like you were in pain or—”

Ford playfully rolls his eyes and nudges him in the shin with his foot.

“Now you know how I feel.”

Once he finally settles down, and when Mabel’s tittering fades, Stan finally registers the video playing behind him. His face immediately goes ash white, his expression quickly morphing into one of utter horror, and if Ford weren’t so wiped out by nearly laughing his ass into unconsciousness he’d probably start doing it again.

Dipper sees what they’re watching and he snorts, covering his mouth to hide any further giggles from coming out.

"Mabel, pumpkin?”

Mabel is the picture of pure innocence, her smile sickly sweet. “Yes, Grunkle Stan?”

“Either I’m having memory issues again or I swear I made you promise me in confidence that you would never ever show this video to Ford,” Stan says, slowly. His grin is wide and almost terrifying. If Ford didn’t know how much Stan loves Mabel he would have thought his twin was seriously considering strangling her. “And what did you do?”

“I showed the video to Ford,” Mabel says, looking shameful. She twirls a piece of long brown hair around her finger. Ford chokes back a bark of laughter at how well she’s pulling this off.

“Don’t be too hard on her, Stan,” Ford soothes in an attempt to curb his brother’s embarrassment. “She was only trying to help.”

Stan simply pouts, and suddenly all Ford can see is a young boy, cheeks bright red from the sun, childishly complaining about having to wear glasses because he thinks it’ll make him look like a nerd. Something warm blooms inside Ford’s chest and he bites his cheek, trying not to get lost in the memory of their childhood.

“How is this helping anything,” Stan mumbles, his cheeks flushing a charming shade of pink.

“It’s teaching you some humility,” Ford states, crossing his arms. “Maybe you should sing it again, Stanley.”

“What?!” His twin barks in outrage.

“He does have a point, Grunkle Stan,” Dipper provides helpfully from where he’s now lounging on the couch with Mabel. The video continues to loop, much to Stan’s chagrin. “You did do something wrong today.”

“Wh—are you still on about that? My god,” Stan groans, throwing his head back. “I was trying to be, ya know, heroic! Live up to my title.”

Ford is tempted to kick him again, but harder. His glare makes the other man wilt slightly.

“You already live up to your title, Stan,” Ford points out. “You don’t have to throw yourself in front of a beast with a toxicity level of 94 percent to prove that.”

“94? Holy crow, that’s high,” Dipper squeaks.

“You’ve already saved the world and paid the price for it once,” Ford continues. He slumps a bit in his chair, the exhaustion of the day finally catching up to him. “Please, Stan, you have to understand—there’s no point in trying to protect us if we lose you in the process. It’s just…just…” And he shakes his head, frustrated that he can’t put it into words properly.

“Okay, alright,” Stan says sheepishly, edging closer to where he’s sitting. “I get it. I didn’t mean to scare ya. It’s just habit for me to be self-sacrificial at this point.”

“That’s a terrible habit!” Mabel accuses.

“She’s right,” Ford mumbles. “If you hadn’t…if that stinger had come into contact, you would have…and then I…I…” He chokes up, his eyes watering. His heart clenches painfully, fear making his body feel like it’s encased in ice. “If I lost you…”

“Hey, easy there on the waterworks, Poindexter,” Stan teases lightly. He holds his hands out in a pacifying gesture. “I’m fine, see? Still in one piece. Mostly.”

“This isn’t funny, Stanley! How can you still refuse to comprehend—ugh!”

Ford is nearly tearing his hair out in frustration now, his teeth grinding together. Seriously, how can his brother still be such an idiot? He thought the lecturing and the clear distress the rest of the family is expressing would be enough to make Stan realize, but—

Stan folds his arms, huffing, and Ford notes that his face is coloring again. Mabel and Dipper gaze at him curiously, and before Ford can question his twin, Stan releases a soft, irritated noise from his throat.

“I’m Stan and I was wrong,” Stan mutters.

Ford blinks in shock.

The other man sighs, a deep-sounding one that slackens his posture. “I’m singing…the Stan Wrong Song.”

Mabel makes a high-pitched keen of excitement, and Dipper grins. Ford almost falls right out of his chair.

He isn’t sure what’s more surprising—Stan willingly putting his pride on the line, or begrudgingly singing about his mistake in front of the family, who he knows are more than capable of holding this against him.

“I shouldn’t have taken that chance…”

Stan edges closer until he’s standing over Ford, his cheeks the color of a ripe apple.

“I’m sorry, okay? Now will you please forgive me already?”

Something lodges itself in Ford’s throat, and his whole body feels as if it’s being flooded with warmth. Even after all this time, Stan still puts his want for Ford’s forgiveness over everything else. His heart glows.

“Stanley…”

“Don’t gimme that look,” Stan grumbles, refusing to meet his eyes.

The older twin beams and launches himself out of his chair, scooping his brother up in a hug.

“Wh—Ford?!”

Ford nuzzles happily into Stan’s hair, grinning wide.

“Thank you, Stanley.”

“What! You cannot leave me out of this family hug action!” Mabel cries, leaping off the couch to run over and throw her arms around her Grunkles’ legs.

“Squeeeeze!” She says, squeezing them tight. Ford laughs jubilantly and Stan rolls his eyes, but there’s a smile that refuses to go away on his face.

Mabel presses her nose into Stan’s leg for a moment, and then she looks over her shoulder at Dipper.

“Come on, Dippin Dots, you know you want in on this!”

Dipper rolls his eyes but slides off the couch nonetheless, coming over to circle them before ending up beside Ford in the group hug.

The young girl starts giggling, a happy, wonderful sound that makes Ford’s heart swell like a balloon. He feels all sorts of fuzzy, the euphoria of being with the people he loves the most—and with his twin, his other half, the person who almost gave his life for him today—making him burst into merry laughter as well. Soon enough Dipper joins them, and finally, Stan is roped into it, their laughter too contagious to ignore.

When they finally all calm down, Ford nudges his head against Stan’s temple. So maybe he’s feeling a bit clingy now, so what?

“Next time you do something like that again I will sneak horrifying body-altering concoctions into your coffee,” Ford tells him way too cheerfully for someone who’s threatening possible disfiguration.

“Yikes, Sixer. What sort of crap did you learn how to do on the other side of that portal?”

“I know how to disembody someone in a total of 103 unique ways,” Ford responds brightly while he rubs his cheek against Stan’s shoulder, hiding a grin into his shirt.

Much to his delight, Stan stiffens beneath him, and Ford almost laughs.

“Remind me not to get on your bad side,” Stan gruffs, patting him on the back. He pauses. “…Again.”

“Hey,” Dipper playfully elbows Stan. “Grunkle Stan, you didn’t finish.”

Mabel’s entire face lights up, and her smile is blinding—and devilish. “Oh, that’s right! You didn’t finish, Grunkle Stan! You have to commit to it all the way!”

Stan looks down at them, puzzled. He tries to squirm out of Ford’s hold but Ford just hums and hugs him tighter, his forehead pressing against the man’s shoulder.

Stan promptly gives up on getting free (because he knows from experience once Ford starts clinging it’s all over). Instead, he addresses the younger twins with an air of confusion.

“What are you gremlins going on about? Finish what?”

“Your song, silly!” Mabel chirps.

Dipper nods, his smirk matching his sister’s. “Yeah, you didn’t sing the entire thing. Or even do the dance! That was a pretty lackluster performance if you ask me.”

Stan’s face draws up in horror. “Oh, no.”

Ford leans back, but doesn’t detach himself from their interwoven limbs. Giving Stan another dose of shame, as Mabel put it, sounds thrilling right about now.

“You know, they do have a point,” he says, pretending to mull it over. He can’t stop grinning. “I’d love to see the most recent rendition of the Stan Wrong Song, from start to finish. Wouldn’t you, kids?”

“Abso-lutely!” Mabel almost screams. “I’ll have to go get my camera!”

Dipper nods, a hand on his chin. “Oh, yes, yes. Gotta have it.”

“You are the worst,” Stan hisses, his entire face matching the color of Ford’s sweater.

Ford laughs for the millionth time that day, his body feeling lighter than air.

——————————————————–

After that, they make him sing it a total of seven times before finally giving mercy. Stan swears he’s never going to do anything super dangerous again until he does two days later. Then the whole process repeats. LMAO

I can never get enough of Pines family fluff it makes me weak in the knees and oh so happy

[detectivejigsawpines]

If it’s broke, don’t fix it

While Stan is still recovering his memories, a moment of clumsiness brings back some particularly vicious ones.  It’s up to Ford to calm him down.

Ford was lost in his thoughts and his work.

This wasn’t an especially unusual state of being for him, by any stretch of the imagination.  In fact, it was oddly comforting for Stan to see him doing something so “normal Ford.” For the past three days, since the thingy happened that made him lose his memory, he’d been a tiny bit...clingy seemed like the best description.  Constantly watching Stan, clearly afraid he was gonna have another memory lapse if his expression became the tiniest bit blank, fussing over him with little or no provocation.

It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy it; honestly, after forty years more or less alone Stan was happy to receive any kind of positive attention, regardless of how pathetic that made him.  But he didn’t want Ford to wear himself out trying to make up for lost time together.

At the moment, his twin was down in his nerd cave, working on what looked like some kind of weird fancy compass thingy, when Stan brought down a plate of sandwiches for lunch and set them at his elbow.

The nerd jumped a little at the realization that he was no longer alone in the room, and blinked a few times before recognizing him.  “Oh! Stanley.”

“The one and only.”  Stan grinned, and gestured to the plate.  “Lunchtime.”

“Already?”  Another nonplussed blink.

He was holding a screwdriver in his hand; Stan snatched it, and placed a sandwich between his fingers instead.  “Eat. It’s turkey with avocado.”

Ford’s expression changed, the corner of his mouth curling up into a pleased smile.  “It’s been a long time since I’ve had real avocados.”

“And you like them, right?”

“Yes, I love them.  Thank you.”

Stan grinned; he loved it when he remembered tiny details like that.  Yesterday he’d given Dipper some spare pens he’d found in his desk drawer because he’d remembered that the kid liked to chew on them when he was thinking, and went through them like they were candies.  For an alarming second Dipper had looked like he was actually gonna cry happy tears; Stan wasn’t sure if it was from getting spare pens, or because Stan had remembered, or a little of both, but either way he’d made him happy, so he was pacified.

As Ford finally began taking bites of his sandwich, Stan examined his project.

“What’s this thing?”

Ford swallowed his most recent bite.  “Oh, it’s just a simple device for detecting weirdness fields.”

“Y’mean like the thing you said is surrounding this town?”  Stan reached out and spun one of the little arrow dials.

“Yes, but on a grander scale.  Say, seeing if there are places in other parts of the world-if I connect it to my watch, it should be able to locate other places filled with anomalous activity.”

“Whoa.”  Stan was impressed, but not surprised.  If anyone could build a doodad like that, it was his genius brother-

He pulled on another twirly arrow thingy, and it snapped off into his hand.

********

It was like his blood turned to ice.

No no no what did I do NO

“NO!  I’m sorry!”

Frantically Stan tried to put the compass arrow back on the spindle, even as his heart lurched in his chest and a little voice screamed in the back of his mind something that sounded a little like NOT AGAIN, and blurred memories began flashing in front of his eyes: a spinning machine with a thing on the front falling off, the indistinct blue of a television screen in a dark room, a sidewalk, dark curtains, a giant metal circle dark and empty with the knowledge that he’d FAILED, he’d FAILED again and he couldn’t go back to being alone please-

Faintly he could hear Ford’s voice on the verge of his hearing, but he didn’t bother trying to make out the words, not wanting to hear the rebuke because he would fix this, struggling harder to fit the arrow on the part of the compass it had come from, barely feeling a slight stinging in his hands and saying in a rapid mantra, “I can fix it, just hold on and lemme fix it-”

“STANLEY!”

Suddenly Ford’s hands were grabbing his, forcing him to drop the piece of equipment and pulling him away from the compass.

Stan thrashed, trying to get back and prove that he could fix it, that he wouldn’t screw this up for Ford again-but then his brother was grabbing his shoulders and ordering him to “Breathe, Stanley!  It’s okay, you’re okay, just breathe for a moment.”

“But-”

“Ssh…”  With unprecedented gentleness Ford pushed him into a chair, and sat down across from him, still holding his shoulders.

“Do you think you can try to follow my breathing?”

Stan nodded, numbly.

“Good.”  Ford did a long, slow inhale through his nose; Stan resisted for a moment, but then followed suit.

“That’s very good, Stanley.  Keep going, you’re doing fine.”

He repeated until Stan was no longer hyperventilating, and then said, “Stay here for a second; I’m going to get my med kit for your hands.”

Stan gave him a nonplussed stare as he got up; what was wrong with his-?

Then he at last registered the stinging pain in his palms and fingers, and the fact that there was blood on them.

Oh.

********

When Ford came back, bag in hand, he began cleaning and disinfecting the cuts.  For a moment they sat in silence aside from the sounds of Ford at work. At last, though, Stan whispered, “I can fix it.  I swear, I didn’t mean-”

“I know, Stanley.  Don’t worry about it.”

There didn’t seem to be any anger in Ford’s voice...but Stan felt like there was maybe some reproach.  His heart sank.

“I’m sorry!” he protested, hearing his voice crack almost as bad as Dipper’s.  “I know this is something you’ve worked really hard on, I shouldn’t have touched it like that-!”

“I’m not angry with you!”

Ford put his hands on Stan’s shoulders again, squeezing.

“Listen to me, Stanley.  I’m not mad at you. I was here, I know you weren’t trying to break it, and it’s not a big deal, it’s very easily fixed.  Okay?”

His tone was earnest enough that Stan believed it.  But something about his brother’s phrasing made him tilt his head and ask, “Who are you mad at, then?”

Ford chewed his lip, and went back to fixing up the cuts.  “...Myself. For being part of the reason that you’d get worked into such a state over a stupid mistake.”

He tenderly rubbed some cream into a long cut on Stan’s palm; it started to fade away even as he looked at it.

Stan tried to think of something reassuring or forgiving he could say.  But he’d tried taking all the blame when they’d talked about this before, and that just seemed to make Ford feel worse, for some strange reason.  All he could think of to do, when at last the smaller cuts had been healed up and the deeper ones bandaged over, was wrap his hands around Ford’s and squeeze gently.

Ford squeezed back, and gave him a half-hearted smile.  Then, after a few seconds, he picked up his sandwich again.

“...Tell me more about how this thing works?”  Stan indicated the project again.

Ford relaxed a little, and went into lecture mode.

And for the moment, at least, peace was restored.

********

One of my favorite kinds of sandwiches is a turkey-bacon-avocado with mustard and onions. The delicious sharp flavors all compliment each other in all the best ways, and the onions decrease my chances of being bitten by yellow-spotted lizards. Since I'm currently living in Texas, this is a particular danger for me.

[thelastspeecher]

King Stansort AU - Shermie

During a break from working on my thesis defense, I opened up my Stansort AU doc on a whim to reread some stuff, like I often do.  And I stumbled across something I had written but never finished, so never posted.  So, naturally, I finished off the thing (it was almost done anyways) and here it is: Shermie finally showing up in the AU where Stan marries a foreign princess and becomes a king consort.  Think of it as something to tide you all over until I update “Recoil” next week.

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              “Mr. Pines?”  Shermie looked up from the stack of homework he was currently sifting through.  He beamed at one of his favorite students, Devin.

              “What’s up, Devin?” he asked kindly.  Devin chewed on his lip.

              “I, um…”  Devin took a breath.  “Do you have a brother named Stanley?”

              “…Yes, I do,” Shermie said.  He leaned back in his chair.  “How did you know that?”

              “Well, for Social Studies, we have to bring in a current event every week and explain it,” Devin said, talking much faster than he usually did. Dread began to mount in Shermie’s chest.

              If Stan’s on the news, that can’t be good.

              “And my mom, she was helping me find a current event to bring in,” Devin continued.  “She likes following royal stuff, even royal stuff from places like Denmark or whatever. Not just England, like most people.” Shermie nodded silently.  “So she told me to- to use this.”  Devin dug a piece of paper out of his backpack and placed it on Shermie’s desk.  “I thought that the guy looked sorta like you, and then I read that he had the same last name and was from New Jersey like you are and is- is that your brother?” Shermie stared down at the piece of paper.  It was a printout of a news article from online, with a large image at the top of the page.  The image was a picture of two people dressed in fine clothes being showered with petals. And one of the people was unmistakably Stan.

              “Yes, that is my brother,” Shermie said in a thick voice.  He cleared his throat.  “Do you need this back or-”

              “No, I’ve- I’ve got two copies.  Just in case you wanted to keep that one,” Devin said.  Shermie nodded.  “Are you upset?”

              “What?  No! No, I’m not.  Just surprised.”  Shermie smiled in a reassuring manner.  “And thankful.  Thank you for bringing this to my attention.”  Devin nodded jerkily.  “You should probably go if you don’t want to be late for your next class.”

              “Right!  Okay, bye, Mr. Pines!”  Shermie waved at Devin as he raced out of the classroom.  He looked back at the article resting on his desk.

              “American Pauper Marries European Princess”?  That’s…how did Stan do that?  I doubt any of us would be able to marry royalty, but Stan seems the least likely.  He’s not refined at all.  Shermie picked the piece of paper up and stared intently at the picture.  There was no one else it could be, other than Stan. Stan seemed well-groomed, well-kempt, and euphoric as he beamed at his new wife.  Guilt trickled into Shermie.  Stan had been kicked out while Shermie was deployed and was long gone by the time his tour ended.  It was something that weighed on Shermie; the wondering of whether things might have gone differently if he’d been there or gotten home sooner or even tried just a bit harder to find Stan.  Clearly, I didn’t need to, if he married a princess.  But still…

              “Hi, Mr. Pines!”  A voice shocked Shermie from his thoughts.  He forced a smile at the flood of students entering his classroom.

              “Hello, Bethany,” he replied, unable to see her in the mass but recognizing her voice.  He shook off the guilt and regret.

              I have to focus.  My students don’t deserve to lose out on English class just because I found out where my brother is.  He managed a half-smile.  Even if they’d prefer to spend the whole period doing anything but learning.

----- 

              When he arrived home, Shermie dropped his bags by the front door, kissed his wife Amelia and their young son, Caleb, and made a beeline for the desktop computer.  A quick search on the internet for “Stanley Pines” resulted in dozens of hits about Shermie’s younger brother, almost all linked to his relationship with royalty. Specifically, the royal family of the small European country of Lirone.

              Lirone?  I’ve never heard of it.  Shermie clicked a few links, trying to get as much information as quickly as possible into Stan’s current circumstances.  Then again, I’m not a geography teacher.  He spent well over an hour diving into articles on Stan, Lirone, and the Lirone royal family, only stopping when his wife called him for dinner.

              “In a minute, love,” he said absent-mindedly, still focused intently on an article detailing Stan’s wedding.  Amelia walked into the living room and propped a hand on her hip.

              “What exactly are you doing?” she asked.  Shermie tore his gaze away from the computer screen.

              “I know where my brother is.”

              “Well, yeah, so do I.  He does research in Oregon.”

              “No, not that brother.  My other one. Stanley,” Shermie said.  Amelia frowned, confused.  “He made a big show of being allowed to drink champagne at our wedding.”

              “Oh!  And then, because he was talking about it so much, got told he couldn’t anymore?”

              “Yep.  That’s him.” Shermie looked back at the computer. “I don’t know if you remember, but he got kicked out while I was on tour.  I tried to track him down when I came back and- and I couldn’t.”

              “But now you know where he is.”

              “Yes.  One of my students gave me a news article today about him,” Shermie said.  Amelia sucked air between her teeth.

              “Oh, that can’t be good.”

              “No, it’s- honestly, it’s better than good.  It’s astounding.  Stan married a princess.”  Amelia’s jaw dropped.  “That was my reaction, too.”  Shermie clicked on another link, this one leading to contact information for the Lironian royal family.  “I need to talk to him.”

              “Honey, I don’t know if you should,” Amelia said gently.  Shermie froze in the middle of filling out a form. “He married a princess and never told you or Ford or your parents.  If he wanted to talk to you, he woulda sent an invite to the wedding, right?”

              “I…”  Shermie’s hands fell away from the keyboard.  “…You’re right.”  A weary weight settled on his shoulders.  “He has resources available to him.  If he wanted, he would have been more than able to contact me.  But he chose not to do that, even when he got married.” Shermie hung his head.  “I can’t- I can’t really blame Stan for not wanting to talk to me.  I shoulda tried harder to find him, I-”  Amelia walked over to him and put a hand on his shoulder.

              “Don’t blame yourself.  You did what you could.”

              “Yes, but-”

              “Maybe he just needs time.  I’m sure he’ll reach out when he’s good and ready.”

              “Maybe,” Shermie mumbled.  Crying began to emit from Caleb’s playpen, which was set up in the middle of the living room.  Shermie got up from the computer.  “I’ll take care of the little stinker if you want to serve up dinner?”

              “Sure thing,” Amelia said.  She kissed him on the cheek.  Shermie walked over to the playpen and picked his son up.  He glanced back at the computer.

              Amelia’s right.  I need to let Stan make the first move.  But that doesn’t mean I won’t keep an eye on him and what he gets up to.  I am still his big brother, after all.

----- 

              Shermie turned on the news.  For four years now, he’d been following the actions of the Lirone royal family. Perusing pictures of them at events, watching speeches translated into English, and being moved to tears by announcement of the princesses’ birth.  He was still heartbroken that Stan had yet to contact him, despite being a father now.

              But that’s not what’s important at the moment.  What’s important is that Stan’s wife was shot and they still haven’t caught the would-be assassin.  Shermie sat down on the couch to wait for any updates. The phone rang.

              “Amelia, would you mind?” he called.  The phone stopped ringing.  He could faintly make out Amelia asking who was on the phone.  The news segment changed.

              “In international news, we’re receiving word that the royal family of the small European country of Lirone had a visit this last month,” the newscaster said.  Shermie leaned forward.  “The news of the visit was public information in Lirone, but kept out of international news organizations, due to the country’s unique privacy laws.  However, now that the visit is over, we can retroactively inform an international audience that it occurred.”  A picture appeared on screen of Stan and his daughters walking in a garden.  Shermie smiled.  “Apparently, the visit was from none other than the king consort’s estranged twin, a Dr. Stanford Pines.”  The picture zoomed out, revealing Ford walking with Stan and his daughters. Shermie’s smile was wiped away.

              What?

              “Shermie,” Amelia said, walking into the living room.  She held out the phone.  “It’s for you.”

              “Sweetheart, I’m not sure I-” Shermie started, his eyes still glued to the television screen.

              “It’s Stan.”  Shermie’s head whipped around.  Amelia nodded.  “So are you gonna take it, or should I tell a literal king that you’re too busy watching TV to talk to him?”  Shermie held out his hand.  “That’s what I thought.”  Amelia handed him the phone.  Shermie swallowed and held the phone up to his ear.

              “…Stan?” he croaked.

              “Yeah.”  At the sound of his younger brother’s distinct voice, Shermie could feel tears welling up.  “Yeah, it’s- it’s me.  Look, I, uh-” Stan took a breath.  “I figured it’s about time you knew what I’ve been up to.”

              “I know.”

              “Wait, you do?” Stan asked.  There was a muffled commotion on his end of the call.  “Danny-”  Stan said something in a foreign language.  A high-pitched voice asked a question in the same tongue.  “Non.”

              “Apr-”

              “Non,” Stan said, more firmly.  He barked out an order, still not speaking English.  There was another muffled commotion.  “Sorry about that,” Stan said.  “It’s a little bit crazy over here.”

              “I know.  Being a father is difficult.”

              “You know about-”

              “Yes, Stanley,” Shermie said.  “I know you married a princess, who became a queen.  I know that you have twin daughters.  And I know that your wife was recently the subject of an assassination attempt.”  Stan was quiet for a moment.

              “How?” he finally asked.

              “One of my students stumbled across an article about you when you were married.  I’ve been keeping track of you since then.”

              “I…”  Stan seemed at a loss for words.  He finally let out a small laugh.  “Well, there goes the whole little speech I had planned.”  Shermie smiled.  “Ford had no clue.”

              “Stanford is brilliant.  But he tends to focus his observational skills on things other than human interactions.”

              “Yeah.  You’re right.”  Stan cleared his throat.  “So, uh, Ford, he- he actually visited us here in Lirone.”

              “The news just mentioned that.”  Shermie leaned against the back of the couch.  “I’m honestly surprised you invited him.”

              “I didn’t.  Turns out his research partner is my brother-in-law, Fiddleford.  Ford saw what happened to Angie on the news and convinced Fiddleford to let him visit.”

              “Really?  During such a tumultuous time?”

              “Yep.  It didn’t go well.  I, uh, I actually kicked him out.  But that’s not- that’s not why I’m calling.  I’m calling to…”  Stan took a breath.  “Invite you to the castle.”  Shermie sat up straight.

              “Wait, what?”

              “It’s- my kids, they deserve to know my side of the family.  I shouldn’t keep them from meeting you and Mom, just ‘cause I don’t know how to let go of a grudge.”

              “But you don’t want them know Pops?”

              “Oh, hell no.  If Pops shows up, he’s getting kicked outta the country right away.”

              “Smart move.”

              “But yeah, I- I want my kids to get to know their Uncle Shermie.  They really liked Ford and he’s not half as good with kids as you are, so I know they’d love you.”  Stan paused.  “And…I wanna see you, too.  It’s been a long time.”

              “It most definitely has.”

              “So you’ll visit?”

              “Of course!”

              “That’s- that’s great.”  Stan sounded relieved.  A muffled voice said something on Stan’s end of the call.  “I gotta go.  But, uh, I’ll have my people set it up, okay?”

              “You won’t be-”

              “I don’t really have the time to set it up myself,” Stan said.  Shermie’s heart sunk.

              Right.  He’s a king consort.  He has more important things to do.

              “We’ve got the best people working here, though, and they’ll call you to iron out the details.  I really- I really gotta go.  There’s a debriefing and-”  Stan cut himself off.  “You don’t need to know about it.  All right, bye.”

              “Bye,” Shermie said, barely getting it in before Stan hung up. Footsteps sounded.  Shermie looked up.  Amelia had joined him in the living room.  She raised an eyebrow.

              “Well?” she asked.  Shermie let out a long sigh.

              “It looks like I’m going to Europe.”

----- 

              Shermie nervously drummed his fingers on his lap as he stared out the window. His luggage was packed in the trunk of the town car that had come to pick him up from the airport.

              “I’ve never had a chauffer before,” he said, trying to lighten the mood. The driver glanced at him but didn’t say anything.  “Not a talker, then,” Shermie mumbled to himself.  He looked down at the bag sitting by his feet containing gifts for Danny and Daisy.  His mouth went dry.

              That was a mistake!  Why did I bother getting presents for literal princesses?  They can get anything they want.  He took a deep, calming breath.  Relax.  It’s going to be fine.  He resumed looking out the window.  While he’d been distracted, the car had turned down a long, winding driveway leading to a castle.  Shermie swallowed.

              The town car came to a stop.  Before Shermie could even reach for the handle, the driver jumped out of the car and opened the door for him.

              “Thank you,” Shermie said.  The driver merely nodded.  Shermie grabbed the bag with his nieces’ presents and stepped outside.  He turned to the driver.  “Do you know where Stan is?”

              “The king consort got caught up in a meeting,” a voice said.  Shermie turned around again.  A man strode over.  He was short and slender, wearing fine, tailored clothes.  The man stuck his hand out for Shermie to shake.  “The name’s Lute.”

              “Lute…you’re one of the princes?” Shermie asked.  Lute grinned.

              “Yep.”

              “I recognize the name.  As well as, to be honest, the nose.”  Lute laughed.

              “I’m not offended, don’t worry.  The royal nose is large and distinctive.”  He blew his dark bangs out of his face.  “It’s also one of the first things both your brothers mentioned when meeting me.”

              “That sounds like my brothers,” Shermie said.  Lute raised an eyebrow.

              “You mentioned it as well.”

              “Fair,” Shermie said lightly.  The driver set Shermie’s items on the ground next to him.  Lute looked down and caught sight of the bag containing Danny and Daisy’s gifts.

              “What’s in there?”

              “I-”  Shermie rubbed the back of his neck.  “This is stupid, but I brought Danny and Daisy some presents.”  Lute was silent.  “I just- I felt bad about missing their birthdays and- I’ll bring them back.”

              “Why?”

              “Well, Danny and Daisy are princesses.  They can get whatever they want.”

              “Pfft.”  Lute snorted. “Not quite.  Do they have access to more than the average child? Yes.  But Angie and Stan don’t want their daughters to be spoiled.  Not to mention, they rarely get American items.” Lute smiled reassuringly at Shermie. “Trust me, they’ll be happy just to meet you.  When you give them gifts?  They’ll be – ah, what’s the phrase – over the moon.”  Shermie smiled back hesitantly.  Over Lute’s shoulder, he saw the large main door open.  His mouth went dry.  A man exited the castle and walked over to Lute and Shermie.

              “Uh, heya, Sherm,” Stan said awkwardly, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his tailored slacks.  Acting on impulse, Shermie abruptly embraced Stan.  Stan stiffened in shock at first, but relaxed and returned the gesture. Shermie broke off the hug.

              “Hello, Stanley.  It’s good to see you again.”

              “Yeah, uh, you- you too,” Stan mumbled.  He cleared his throat.  “Um, come- come inside.  If the girls don’t see you in the next five minutes, they’re gonna riot.”

              “That’s the only reason you want me inside?” Shermie deadpanned.  “You’re not concerned that if I stay out all night I might freeze to death?  Or be attacked by bears?”  Stan rolled his eyes.  “You don’t want me to come in because you want to catch up with me?  No, it’s because your daughters will be upset? Sure.  Whatever you say.”  Stan punched Shermie on the shoulder playfully.

              “Shut up and get your ass inside the castle.”

              “Well, since you asked so nicely…” Shermie said slowly.  Stan let out a laugh.  Shermie beamed, glad that his tactic to make things less awkward had worked.  “Don’t worry, I’m as excited as your daughters are.”

              “That’s a high bar, Sherm.  They loved it when Ford was here.  I think they’re expecting someone that looks just like him.”  Stan looked Shermie up and down.  “They’re gonna be disappointed.”  Shermie rolled his eyes.  Stan turned around and began to walk back to the castle.  “No use delaying their disappointment!  C’mon, Sherm.”  Lute and Shermie exchanged an amused look.  Stan stopped at the door to look back.  “I’m a king, Shermie.  I can have you court-martialed.”

              “You may be a king,” Shermie said, picking up his luggage, “but you’re also my little brother.  If you court-martial me, I’ll have no choice but to tell the press all about Mr. Tummy.” Stan grimaced.

              “Fine.”  He sighed in an exaggerated manner.  “I won’t court-martial you.”

              Shaking his head to hide his smile, Shermie followed Stan and Lute inside.

[thetaurusgeminisystem]

A to Z 30 day Challenge “Hunkle Grunkle edition”

Day #1 – Age

Part 1 of 2

Ford & Winifred

 The early morning hours are no stranger to them because of the harm that comes from the unhealthy circadian rhythm. A rhythm that was forever rendered an anomaly in its self-due to the disease that most people currently knew as insomnia. Of course, neither party dared to acknowledge it, especially without some sort of wake-up juice.

It was an early winter morning aboard the Stan – O – War, a vessel that came from a childhood dream originally. The best part of this whole situation was that after forty odd years of pining after one another they were finally together. From the perspective of an outsider, someone could have guessed that these two had been married for those forty years, that was just how well they knew each other. They were in sync in a way that Stan would joke would be “Weird nerdy BS”.  

Winifred had been the first one out on the deck of the vessel this morning. She had been lying awake in her bunk since about 4:30 am but had not dared to get up because she feared of waking Ford up. Her reasoning for this was because Ford already didn’t get sleep as it was so she knew she would feel guilty for keeping her boyfriend awake over something dumb as a dream. When she tried to just ignore it and go back to sleep by cuddling up close to Ford again, it just wouldn’t leave her alone.

The dream made her begin to think about how much time her and Ford had lost over the thirty years apart, the dream was a replay of the fateful night when she had been dumb enough to try and save McGucket without something to anchor her into their dimension. It made her realize how much the two had grown and changed over the thirty years. The pit of regret being in stomach now because she was too old to bear her beloved any children, a problem that Stan and Raina might not face due to Raina’s strange alien anatomy.

“Fuck I wish I had told him sooner. Maybe our lives would be different.”

She mumbles to herself as she watches the calm ocean waves and other boats that went in and out of the Scottish port that they were currently in. She sat on the edge of deck, her legs dangling over the side and her arms slumped along the railing of the ship. These thoughts were also accompanied by something that happened the other night when she had gone with Raina and the boys to one of pubs. She saw a younger girl that kept trying to flirt with Ford when he went to bar to get them all a drink and it made her heart sink.

“Wouldn’t he be much happier with a younger beauty and not a grumpy old broad like me?”

She mumbled out again under her breath. It made her wonder what she could truly even offer Stanford at this age, she was beyond her prime and too old for much of anything really. She didn’t dare bring these feelings up with anyone because she didn’t want anyone to worry about her, especially not Ford. Ford had enough to worry about daily.

“Alright darling what’s eating you hm?” The familiar deep voice asked drawing her quickly out of her thoughts. Winifred blinked and then looked up to see Stanford standing next to her and holding out a cup of coffee to her.

Winifred took the mug thankfully in her glove covered hands. She decided to try and play dumb with him in the hopes that he would just forget about it. “What? I don’t know what you’re talking about Stanford” she answered and then turned her gaze back out to the passing ships in the bay.

She had no such luck because Ford didn’t give up that easily. Though it was something that normally she loved about him, this was not one of those times. “Winifred don’t play dumb with me. I can tell something is wrong. First you aren’t acting like your normal self, you haven’t been since we went to the pub the other night. Second, you only call me Stanford when you’re angry or upset with me. Please darling, tell me what’s wrong” Ford begged and then he gently sat down on the deck of the vessel with her.

Winifred shivered a little as she felt her boyfriend’s comforting embrace wrap itself around her waist. Winifred sighed and then she finally found herself looking over at him. “I-It’s just well…while we were at the pub, I noticed this younger girl talking and basically flirting with you. It made me think that maybe I’m not good enough for you Ford. I can’t give you a kid like Raina can give Stan because I’m too old. I guess it just made wonder if maybe you’d be better off or happier with a girl that’s younger than me beca-“ Winifred was explaining, but was then cut off by Ford gently placing one of his larger fingers on her lips.

He was blushing a little, but he leaned forward and scooped her up into his lap so that now he was holding her. “Are you kidding me? I honestly didn’t realize she was flirting with me, I guess that explains why she was so willing to give me directions to our stake out spot…” Ford started causing Winifred to give him a flat look that looked unamused. “Anyway, what I was trying to say my darling is that even if she was flirting with me, I would have never taken her offer. She might have been younger, but she isn’t wiser or smarter. I love your beautiful mind and those beautiful eyes that look up at me with so much love. Winifred, I don’t care how old you are or even the fact that we may not be able to conceive biological children. I love you for who you are, I always have, and I always will” Ford says softly, one of his larger hands gently coming up to cup her chubby cheek and force her to look up at him.

Winifred sat and listened to him, her heart beginning to stutter a little and her eyes growing misty with unshed tears. “Y-you mean that my love?” She asks him shyly, her voice cracking a little to match her tears that were slipping out.

Ford gently leaned in and planted a meaningful kiss to her forehead and then held her close to him. “Of course, I mean that my darling. You mean the multiverse to me no matter how old you get. You’re my best girl and one of the only ones who can understand me…you’re the first girl who ever loved me back, fingers and all” He says softly and then he sets his mug down and emphasizes the “fingers and all” with the famous Pines family finger wiggle.

Winifred couldn’t help but giggle a little when he wiggled his fingers and then she leaned up and kissed his cheek. “I love you to Ford, you mean the multiverse to me as well you know. Also, if I’m you’re best girl then you’re my best boy, always. You’re the first guy that has truly loved me for all that I am. At least you didn’t want to use me to pass your classes like a jerk” Winifred replies and mentions her first and only ex-boyfriend, Vic.

Ford instinctively pulled her closer to him as she mentioned the jerk that had humiliated her at homecoming in sophomore year. He promised himself that he wouldn’t allow any other man to cause harm to her like that ever again. “He didn’t deserve you. Besides you stole someone’s heart almost instantly from the moment he laid eyes on you” Ford replied and rested his chin on her shoulder.

Winifred smirked and rested her head gently against his. “Oh? I wonder who that is” She joked earning a deep rumbling chuckle from Ford.

Ford gently ran his free hand through her long silver hair, he relished how soft and yet strangely frizzy it felt in his fingers. “Oh, I think you know who he is. He loves you right now and he always will” He says softly, his tone meaningful to let Winifred know he meant it. He hoped that it would comfort her a little and ease her worries.

Winifred smiled warmly up at him now, her tears slowly disappearing with the brisk morning air around them. She gently set her coffee mug right next to his and then she wrapped her arms around his torso in a hug. “You promise?” she asks shyly.

Ford smiles down at her and continues to run his six digits through her flowy silver hair. “I promise my darling” He answers her and then he presses another gentle kiss to her forehead and just holds her close.

Ford found himself now looking out at the other ships that were going in and out of this port while he held her close. Winifred closed her eyes as she allowed the comforting warmth and smell that was her six fingered scientist to begin to lull her off to a relaxing morning stupor, after all, it would be another two hours before Stan and Raina woke up and another three before they had to catch the bus to their stake out sight.

When Ford heard her light snores, he chuckled again and rested his chin atop of her head. “Rest well my dear, I love you” He says softly and then he gazed back at the ocean, his thoughts drifting to the adventures that the two of them had been able to have in their past. Yes, they might be older, but Ford had hope that they would be able to still have adventures more to come in their future.

A/N: Hey there Gravity Falls Fans! So I decided that I wanted to showcase my OC’s for Ford and Stan. I figured one of the best ways to do that was to write some cute one shots based on writing prompts. So here I am with day 1 (though I know it’s a little late) of the A to Z 30 day challenge! I am also releasing a companion short of Stan and Raina for this particular prompt so stay tuned! I hope that you all enjoy! 

You can find the challenge here: https://uhmmmsweetie.tumblr.com/post/172330329580/30-day-otp-alphabet-challenge

It was created by @uhmmmsweetie

[anistarrose]

If The Sky Comes Falling Down (GF One-Shot)

Summary: Stan’s (and Ford’s) birthdays throughout the years.

Word Count: ~2300

Warnings: none

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19226707

Happy June 15th! (Title is from Hey Brother by Avicii!)

***

Stan and Ford are ten years old, and every one of their birthdays has been shared.

Every year, from the second the final school bell rings and onwards, the twins’ number one priority is planning the best birthday ever — what type of cake they want, which comic issues each of them should beg their parents for in order to maximize their combined yield, how they want to spend the day in order to make it the best day of the whole year.

Other kids at school seem to feel sorry for them, like having to share your birthday ruins all the fun of it, but to Stan and Ford, sharing has always been the whole point. With a twin, you’ve always got someone just as dedicated as you are to making your birthday perfect.

They’d never want it any other way.

Stan and Ford are seventeen years old, ready for their final year of high school, and as always they spend their birthday together. Today, they’re using the morning to work on the boat.

Freedom is tantalizingly close — just one more year of school, one more year of putting up with Dad. It feels just barely out of reach, just barely over the horizon.

If they time this thing right, and put in enough work, they might be able to complete the repairs just in time to sail out of town on the very day they turn eighteen. It’ll be a poetic and dramatic exit, as they journey onwards to clearer waters and grander adventures.

Just the two of them, going wherever they want to go. Stan can’t wait.

Stan (and Ford) are eighteen years old, and they aren’t spending their birthday together this year.

Ford is probably with his family — or maybe he’s already headed out to college and made new friends replacements there, for all Stan knows…

No, don’t waste time thinking about that, it won’t end well. The only thing Stan knows is that for the first time in his life, he’s spending his birthday alone, and he doesn’t have any idea what to do. Birthdays without Ford are a foreign concept to him, like an entirely new holiday that he’s never celebrated before, and he just feels empty.

Eventually, he settles on going to the nearest comic store and blowing his dwindling supplies of cash on the installments he’s missed over the past few months. He ends up not even having enough money to both get fully caught up and eat tomorrow, so he only buys a few issues — but it’s still enough to put a smile on his face that evening, even if that smile is only brought about by indulging in denial, by pretending he’s back home and everything with Ford is just as it’s always been.

Stan (and Ford) are twenty, twenty-five, thirty years old, and Stan still treats himself for his birthday however he can most years — if not the fifteenth, then the eighteenth, or even the twenty-eighth if it takes him that long to get ahold of a few spare dollars. And many years, he enjoys himself, but on others it just isn’t worth the painful memories that always tend to surface.

He’s realizing that sharing your date of birth with someone isn’t so fun after all, if you’re not sharing the celebration too.

Stan is thirty-one years old, and he doesn’t know if Ford is too because he doesn’t know if Ford’s even alive.

Summer is peak tourist season, so he has plenty of cash to spare, but he doesn’t do anything to celebrate when his birthday rolls around. He briefly has the notion that he should buy a cake and bring it downstairs to the portal room, but he discards the idea just as quickly. It just hurts to much to acknowledge.

Stan is fifty-two years old, and has been for nearly a month now as he gives Soos a reassuring pat on the back. The kid’s tears slow down a little, but not enough.

“Hey now, what’s the matter? Do you need to go home, ‘cause… well, it pains me to say this, but you haven’t missed a day of work since I’ve hired you, and I guess I could give you one day off with full pay…”

Soos shakes his head. “Nuh-uh. I — I don’t wanna be at home today.”

“Uh…” That surprises Stan, because as far as he knows Soos has a pretty idyllic home life with a grandmother who does nothing but dote on him — but if Stan has to curse out an old lady for reducing Soos to a bawling wreck, then he’ll do it, damn it. He’s cursed out stranger characters before.

There’s a sharp rap on the door — specifically the door to the private side of the Mystery Shack, not the side that’s open to tourists.

“Shoot, I gotta get this. Be right back,” Stan tells Soos, tossing him a box of tissues on the way out. Soos makes no effort to catch them, and the box bounces off his shoulder with a thwack as Stan cringes internally and hurries to the back porch.

And speak of the devil, it’s Soos’s Abuelita who’s waiting for him there, anxiously fidgeting with the straps of her apron.

“Has Soos come into work today?” she asks. “He said he would take the day off for his birthday party this afternoon, but he is not at home!”

Oh. So it’s a birthday thing.

“Yeah, I think I saw him swing by today,” Stan answers slowly. “I’ll go find him for you.”

“Thank you! I was so worried…”

Stan heads back inside, and sits down on the ground next to Soos even though his back protests against him with a burst of pain.

“Hey, kid. Your Abuelita’s looking for you.”

Soos buries his head in his hands, and mumbles something incomprehensible.

“Not a fan of birthday parties, huh? It’s okay… I’m not either.”

Soos looks up. “Really?”

Stan looks away. “Yeah, they’re just… not my thing.”

“My dad always promises he’d come visit on my birthday,” Soos mumbles. “But then he never does…”

“Oh, kid. I’m so sorry about that.” Stan pauses, and then throws an arm over Soos’s shoulder.

“I get it,” he whispers. “When it’s supposed to be the greatest day of the year for you, but then the people you care about — or the people you want to care about you — aren’t there, year after year, then it… it really wears you down.”

“Does your family never visit you on your birthday, Mr. Pines?”

“Uh… yeah. Yeah, something like that.”

Soos wraps his arms around Stan’s chest, trapping him in a surprisingly tight hug.

“I thought I was the only one who hated my birthday,” he whispers. “I’m sorry your family’s like that, Mr. Pines, but… I’m glad I’m not the only one.”

Stan is sixty-one years old, and he’s perfected the art of doing nice things for himself in early June and then lying to himself about it.

The party’s just a moneymaking scheme, nothing more. Getting to dance all night and eat marshmallows and other junk food? Those are just bonuses, and the timing? Falling exactly on the fifteenth of June? Well, that’s definitely just a coincidence.

Mabel is a whirlwind of energy and excitement on the dance floor, having apparently made some new friends, and Dipper is who-knows-where, probably off shirking his responsibilities and making trouble. They’re both good kids — their weirdness and stubbornness and just general twin-ness is a comforting kind of familiar on some days, and a worrying kind of familiar on others, but that’s not their fault. They don’t know.

Something about the presence of the younger twins tells Stan that it’s this summer that everything will finally change, though. That this is the last birthday that he’ll spend alone, unable to share.

Stan and Ford are both sixty-one, and all of those years have only led up to this. To the sky being ripped apart, and a demon burning the town to the ground.

“We used to be like Dipper and Mabel,” Ford says. “The world's about to end and they still work together. How do they do it?”

“Easy, they’re kids,” Stan tells him. “They don’t know any better.”

Ford stands up, a determined but wistful look in his eyes.

“Whoa, where you going?”

“I'm going to play the only card we have left — let Bill into my mind,” Ford explains. “He'll be able to take over the galaxy, and maybe even worse… but at least he might let the kids free.”

“What? Are you kidding me?! Are you honestly telling me there's nothing else we can do?!”

“Bill's only weak in the mindspace. If I didn't have this darn plate in my head —” Ford makes a fist and hits the side of his skull for emphasis, producing a metallic clang. “— we could just erase him with the memory gun when he steps inside my mind.”

“What if he goes into my mind? My brain isn’t good for anything.”

Ford chuckles sadly. “There's nothing in your mind he wants. It has to be me. We need to take his deal, it's the only way he'll agree to save you and the kids.”

“Do you really think he’s gonna make good on that deal?”

Ford sighs. “What other choice do we have?”

“You could… holy shit, Ford, quick! Put on my clothes!”

“Excuse me?!”

Stan takes off his fez and slaps it on Ford’s head. “If we switch places, Bill can go in my mind and then you can erase him! If it fooled all our teachers, why can’t it fool a demon?”

Ford throws the fez to the ground and grabs him by the shoulders, and Stan braces himself for a reply of you idiot, that’ll never work, don’t you think I would have thought of that myself if it would? — but he’s left completely unprepared for the words that actually come out of Ford’s mouth, quiet and slow and afraid in a way Stan hasn’t heard in decades:

“Stanley, that won’t just erase Bill. It’ll erase you.”

“But will it work?” Stan doesn’t even need to ask — Ford has a certain gleam in his eyes, a certain look of awe upon his face that only appears when he’s truly blown away by a revelation that never occurred to him, but makes all the sense in the world. It’s a look that’s partially obscured behind an expression of fear, of guilt, of desperation — but it’s definitely there.

“It will work,” Ford whispers, “but I don’t want to lose you.”

“It’s either erasing one idiot’s memories or letting a lot of people die, Ford! We’re — we’re running out of time, damn it!”

Ford stares at the ground as he begins to pull off his trenchcoat. “I’m so sorry, Stan.”

“I am too, Ford.”

A man wakes up in a clearing and remembers nothing, least of all his age.

Strangers approach him, cry over him, call him a hero and hug him uncomfortably tight, and he doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know what to say.

Ford, the older man, tells him that his name is Stanley, and that the two of them are brothers, that they’re twins, but something about the realization rings hollow. Any connection Stan might’ve once had with this man has since been severed, leaving them to share a face, a birthday, and nothing more.

…Or at least, that’s what one would think, because surely a disoriented and confused shell of a man with ill-fitting clothes and no memories can’t be a brother to anyone, not in any of the ways that truly matter — but when Stan looks at Ford and sees him staring off into the distance with a defeated frown on his face, looks at any of these strangers and sees them in anguish… his heart feels like it’s about to be torn in two. So maybe, just maybe, some fragment of a connection has persisted.

He tries to lighten the mood, to no avail, and tries to remember the scenes in the scrapbook the girl shows him — and when words start spilling out of his mouth on instinct, he’s relieved not for himself, but for the others. (For his family.)

He’s relieved when he sees them start to smile, to hope, and finally thinks Yeah, these faces look familiar.

Stan and Ford are sixty-two years old, and they blow out the candles on their birthday cake together as Dipper takes pictures and Mabel showers both of them in confetti.

“Mabel, sweetie, that’s kind of a fire hazard,” Stan warns her. “You know, with the candles and all —”

“Oh, it’s fine,” Ford cuts in. “We all know where the fire extinguisher is, don’t we?”

“Yeah, because you’ve already come seconds away from blowing us into the stratosphere twice this summer!”

They laugh, and then Stan and Ford argue over who gets to cut the cake, but there’s no malice behind the words. It’s just the usual sibling banter — one of the many little things that Stan and Ford have found themselves appreciating more than ever this past year, after having gone so long without it.

Everyone is stuffed except for Stan, who’s cleaning out the last few spoonfuls from a tub of ice cream, when Ford pours one last glass of milk and raises it towards Stan like one would for a toast.

“Here’s to more birthdays together,” he says, and Stan hastily picks up his own cups to clink it against Ford’s. It’s not a very satisfying clink, since both cups are plastic, but it’s good enough. It’s the sentiment that really makes the toast, after all.

“To more birthdays together,” Stan echoes.

***

Endnotes:

Thanks for reading, feedback and reblogs are appreciated as always! I realize Stan acted in Blendin’s Game like he didn’t know what caused Soos to hate his birthday, but I feel like it’s plausible he wouldn’t have wanted to share something so personal with the others if Soos clearly didn’t want to talk about it (and also I wrote that scene before realizing this potential continuity issue and just really wanted to keep that dialogue).

Anyways, I could go on and on about how much these two stubborn old men mean to me, but to keep it brief, thinking and writing about them has helped me through a bunch of rough patches, so I felt like it was about time to write something for their birthday (which I’d hoped to do last year, but writer’s block was a bitch). I’m so proud of this whole dumb fictional family, and I had the biggest smile imaginable on my face while I was writing that scene of pure fluff at the end :’)