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nowimjustastranger · 6 months ago

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Omgg the dimension in the stcmo au where Stanley destroys his own dimension with Stanford and the dead twins in it is fkn killing me 😭 He was fully ready to die with the world, seeing that his world (the kids) had already ended anyway :(

How do you think Stanley died in the other dimension, where Stanford and the twins survived but he didn't? I also really wanna know what their reactions were to meeting each other again or if their memories were altered or not!

I love this AU to death and beyond, please never die 😔🙏

Honestly, the possibilities are endless in terms of how exactly Stan goes out (destroying Bill in the process).

And as for the relocated Stan...

Stan hit the ground and, for the first time in his life, he just stayed down. That tiny voice in the back of his head that had kept him going all these years had finally fallen silent, leaving him to drown in his overwhelming despair. He didn’t care to pick himself back up again. There was no point.

His kids were gone. Snuffed out before they could even live their lives. His brother, who he had just brought home, killed with the press of a button. He was pathetically thankful that he hadn’t been the one to activate the doomsday device, he didn’t think he could’ve lived with himself knowing that he had killed his big brother with his own hand.

Not that he had been planning to survive the explosion, which was another matter that he was just too worn down to address. Honestly, he didn’t really give a shit about the mystery man or his intentions. Even so, he should be furious that the mystery man kept him from joining his family, but he was hollowed out by the realization that he was the only one left.

Why was he always the last man standing?

He couldn’t bear to go another day without Mabel’s smile. The girl had bullied her way into his heart and carved out a space for herself, bringing enough love for the both of them with her. His sweet girl who loved glitter a little too much and drew trouble to her like a magnet, the girl who saw a sad old fuck and reminded him that life was worth living with every joke, every kind word, every laugh, every hug.

How could he possibly face another day without Dipper’s laugh? The boy had snuck into his heart not long after his sister had gotten comfortable, settling down like he had simply always been there. His brave boy who reminded Stan so much of his brother and himself, a strange amalgamation of both of them. Their best qualities put into one body.

Had he told them that he loved them? Even once? Had he ever uttered those words to his kids?

Did they die unsure of how much they meant to him? Did they die doubting that Stan loved them more than anything in the entire universe? Did they die quick or slow? Did they die scared, wanting their Grunkle to protect them from a cosmic bully? Did they die wishing that they’d never met him? Did they die cursing that they ever came to Gravity Falls–

His kids had to know that Stan would’ve given anything, struck any deal, endured any torment, killed anyone he had to so long as it meant that they got to be happy.

Stan didn't even realize he was crying until he pressed his forehead against the ground, shocked back into his own body by the soft rasp of greenery against his face. His shoulders heaved with the force of his sobs, hands fisted into the grass as he wailed his grief into the soil.

Grief for not telling Soos that he was like a son to him. Grief for not thanking Wendy for putting up with his shit. Grief for not telling Dipper that he was proud of him. Grief for not putting Mabel’s insecurities to rest before they could fester. Grief for waiting for a fucking ‘thank you’ instead of just hugging his damn brother like he had longed to do for the past forty years. Grief for not spending more time with all of them while he could.

As Stan’s pathetic tears finally dried up, a sound was carried on the breeze, every muscle in his body locking up as he raised his head. His brain stalled like an old engine, wide eyes staring off into the thick foliage. He was half convinced that his mind had finally fractured and he was hallucinating even as his body moved, scrambling to his feet to race through the forest.

Even if it was just a cruel trick of his mind, he couldn’t just ignore it. Not when it was his kids. And certainly not when his kids were crying. In no world could he ignore the sound of the niblings' distress. If they needed him, he’d be there. Easy as that. He would sooner light himself on fire than let them think that they couldn’t come to him with their problems, his discomfort with feelings and emotions could fuck right off.

As he got closer to the origin of the sound, he could actually make out words. His heart stuttered in his chest as he pushed himself faster and faster still because they were calling for him. They were wailing his name like two scared little kids lost in a big world that was too cruel for the likes of them. So, he answered their desperate call, just like he always would.

“Kids!”

Stan charged through the brush, erupting into a small clearing with three people standing in it. The first figure he recognized immediately as his brother, whose arm was raised to aim a triangular gun at Stan’s chest. The niblings were hidden behind him, clutching the fabric of his slacks as they peeked at Stan with huge wet eyes. Stan stumbled to a stop, raising his hands in a placating gesture.

Surprisingly, no one in the clearing broke the silence, a voice ringing out from a sturdy branch in a nearby tree.

“It’s not a trick, Stanford.” A heavily modulated voice spoke as a dude in flashy getup stared down at them from his perch. In the blink of an eye, another gun was drawn from Ford’s trench coat, pointed at the man that Stan had been manhandled by earlier. His face was set with grim determination, but there was a telling shake to the hand that aimed the gun at Stan.

“You better start talkin’ or I’ll come up there n’ beat some answers outta you.” Stan demanded, sparing a glare for the stranger. He must’ve followed Stan here, which meant that he had also seen Stan blubbering like a pansy earlier. Great.

“The Stan of dimension F9-2 took his own life to defeat Bill, leaving your dimension without a Stanley Pines. Stan from dimension C40”0 was the only one to survive Weirdmageddon, his world destroyed by his brother’s last-ditch effort to kill Bill, leaving him without his family.” The stranger explained, gesturing to each brother in turn as he addressed them.

“So, you… brought him here?” Mabel tentatively piped in with a sniffle, poking her head out more, and Stan had to swallow the urge to tell her to keep out of sight. Now that he was getting a good look at the trio, he was noticing the differences, like how Ford was wearing the same suit that Stan himself currently had on, except it was far less tattered.

“I did.” The stranger confirmed with a slow nod and the niblings shared a look, communicating with just their eyes. Stan remembered when he used to do that with Ford, way back when their only worry was if they could get one last game of pirates in before they were called home for dinner. Stan hadn’t been that close to Ford since middle school, back before a yawning chasm of distance opened between them.

“Who are you?” Ford growled, his eyes narrowed as he shifted most of his attention to the stranger, who tilted his head in a predatory manner that made the hair on the back of Stan’s neck stand on end. Stan let his arms slowly drop down to his sides since the gun that had been aimed at him had been lowered slightly, Ford clearly prioritizing the bigger threat.

“A concerned third party.” The stranger said, not missing a beat before he shifted his weight to fall backward. He disappeared in the blink of an eye only to reappear right behind Stan, who squawked in alarm and outrage as one hand seized the back of his neck while the other pointed a weird gun behind them to open another colorful gateway. Stan threw an elbow back at the stranger, who caught it with practiced ease after swiftly holstering the gun.

“But if you’re unwilling to house him in your dimension–” The stranger began, before being unceremoniously interrupted by two small bodies darting out from the safety that Ford's body provided and throwing themselves at Stan.

“No! You can’t have Grunkle Stan! Please don’t take him away!” Mabel wailed with no small amount of terror, her tiny arms struggling to fit around Stan’s waist, clutching fistfuls of his jacket. Dipper was no better, quite literally sitting on Stan’s shoe in order to cling to his right leg with all four of his limbs while he begged the stranger to let Stan stay with them.

“Hey, hey… I ain’t goin’ anywhere.” Stan soothed, voice lowered to a low rasp as he abandoned his effort to get the bastard behind him to let go in favor of getting a hand on each of the kids. One of his hands went to Dipper’s head while the other pressed against Mabel’s hitching back, the two pressing into the contact like they were starving for it. Stan turned his head just enough to level the visor of the stranger’s helmet with a dark look, daring him to disagree. “Right, pal?”

“Depends on him.” The stranger retorted, pointedly nodding at Ford, who had taken to aiming the gun directly at the stranger’s helmet. Thankfully, the portal had closed on its own, shrinking out of existence, and as a result, Ford’s posture had visibly lost some tension. Stan figured that it was because the kids had been in danger of going through with him had the stranger followed through with his threat.

“My brother stays.” Ford bit out through clenched teeth, something bordering on manic in his eyes. Stan noticed that Ford’s hand wasn’t shaking this time, his aim perfectly steady. Stan wasn’t sure why this stood out to him until he recalled that Ford’s hand had been trembling earlier when he had the gun pointed at Stan, which was far more shocking than it should’ve been.

“If you ever hurt Stan… I’ll be back and you will never see him again.” The stranger warned, drawing the weird sci-fi gun in a dark blur and firing it off to the side, smoothly stepping into the swirl of colors before both the stranger and the portal were gone. Stan stood there dumbly, staring at the empty space where the portal used to be until his attention was redirected to the warm body that crashed into him.

Stan yelped as he went down in a heap of flailing limbs, instinctively struggling as strong arms wound around his body. However, Stan froze when he heard a choked sob, blankly staring up at the cloudless blue sky in utter disbelief as Ford broke down in tears. Ford’s face was buried in the crook of Stan’s neck, his glasses digging into skin, but Stan didn’t care because he was clinging to him and the kids just as tightly.

And if his eyes were wet and his cheeks damp, it was just allergies.

#gravity falls #side quest #somebody to call my own au #mini series #so far from home au #ford pines #stan pines #mabel pines #dipper pines #stan and ford #stan twins #pines twins #pines family #ask box

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tinfoil-jones · 19 days ago

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Jerk Ford AU: Obligatory Stan Twins Birthday Post

During the thirty years they were separated, neither Jerk Ford nor Stanley celebrated their shared birthday.

They did however, form the same yearly tradition simultaneously, and completely independent of one another. Showcasing how they manage to mirror each other even when their twinstinct was gone.

While Stan is well liked, he didn't have to worry about anyone trying to do a surprise party for him. Most of his peers are teachers who wouldn't work at the school during the summer unless if they were staffed for Summer School that year. His part time job during summers is working at the Water Treatment Plant, but he always kept a low profile that day and made sure none of his coworkers knew his birth date.

Even when he adopted Soos, Abuelita respected that Stan did not want to celebrate his birthday, because she knew the reason why he didn't. And considering Soos still hates his own birthday just like in canon, Soos wouldn't question his dads lack of birthday celebration.

Jerk Ford is out in the multiverse, and not celebrating birthdays is common in the Fordverse. Most of them resent (but 'secretly' painfully miss) their twin, and the most common goals out in the multiverse are survival and killing Bill Cipher. Jerk Ford's lack of resentment towards his brother is not well known, so him also not celebrating is no surprise.

Even as he starts to steadily gain more friends allies during his thirty year exile, he maintained his refusal to celebrate the occasion, and most likely kept to himself that day. Which they do not question; Anti-Ford and Watchdog Ford have the same birthday and could understand why, meanwhile The Archivist is a few centuries old so birthdays don't have as much meaning to him compared to a regular human or shorter lived species.

But what same yearly tradition do Jerk Ford and Stan do in place of an actual celebration or event? Well...

---

Dimension-???

Unknown bunker, unknown city. 15 June 2011

Jerk Ford makes sure he's absolutely as secure and far away from others as possible; there's statistically a very low chance of anyone finding him anytime soon, but just in case he has a syringe of his patented Drunk-B-Gone with a capped needle readily in his right overcoat pocket.

He reaches into his extradimensional bag and pulls out two items - a snifter glass, and a dark bottle of Seagrams Seven Crown.

He'd remembers back in their Backupsmore days, he and Fiddleford used to tease Stanley about his so-called 'sophisticated' taste, how he wasn't more manly than them just because he kept his drinking habits on the plain and simple side, but Stan would continue to insist he wasn't trying to make a statement, he just preferred it that way.

Sometimes Jerk Ford wondered if Stan was emulating their Pa or if it was just coincidence and genetics they both happened to prefer whisky and refused mixed drinks of any kind. Laphroaig was Filbrick's poison of choice, and just like Stanley he only ever drank things as they were, nothing 'fancy' like simply syrup, a lemon garnish, or God forbid, ice.

Jerk Ford, for one, preferred not consuming the equivalent of potable acetone, but...

"At least I didn't have to try to smuggle ice or citrus fruit." Jerk Ford mused out loud to himself as he poured from the bottle into the glass what he eyeballed as 4.5oz of whisky, the equivalent of three shots.

Fine whisky is supposed to be drunk in small sips, but Seven Crown is cheap and bottom shelf, it could be knocked back, and that's what Jerk Ford was planning on. He knew it wasn't the wisest thing to do, he wasn't unaware of his steadily declining constitution. It was the same reason he generally didn't drink anything bigger or stronger than a singular beer even when going out to drink.

"Happy Birthday, Stanley." Jerk Ford murmured to himself before swigging the whole thing down even though he hated it.

---

Dimension-PJC311

Gravity Falls, Oregon. 15 June 2011

Stanley Pines walks into Skull Fracture, the toughest bar in town- mainly because it was the only bar in town. The heavily tatooed biker serving as the bouncer tended to roll his eyes whenever Stan came to the bar, because of how much a school teacher like himself stood out amongst these self-proclaimed extremely tough people and bikers, but this time he just nodded at Stan and allowed him inside with no words.

29 years of this, Tats had of course expected him.

However, it appears tonight there was a different bartender than normal, or at least one Stan didn't usually see. A large biker with a bald head, and a red bandanna tied around his forehead like a headband.

"Mr. Pines?" The bartender asked in surprise "Monthly Cigar Night isn't until-"

"I know, I just need a drink." Stan interrupted him as he pulled out a stool in front of the counter and promptly sat down.

"The usual?" The bartender asked, already reaching for a Glencairn glass from the cabinet, but Stan raised one hand in the 'pause' motion.

"A mixed drink." Stan explained, internally rolling his. The establishment and its usual patrons prided themselves in their toughness so much, they refused to have cocktails because 'those are girly drinks'.

However, there was an easy work around; just call it a mixed drink and explain exactly what you'd like in it. A person can't ask for a Rusty Nail cocktail, but they can ask for a mixed drink equal parts scotch and Drambuie, served on the rocks in an old fashioned glass.

"What do you want in your drink?" The bartender asked him, and Stan recited it from memory

"Equal parts vodka, tequila, white rum, triple sec, gin, two parts lemon juice, one and a one-third parts simple syrup, and top it with cola. On the rocks, and in a highball glass, please." Stan instructed carefully, and the bartender nodded along as he put said drink together.

"You sure about this, Mr. Pines? This is five shots." The bartender pointed out, but Stan simply shrugged, and switched a ten dollar bill with the bartender for the drink.

Stan for one, didn't like most cocktails. He liked sweets just fine, but he always preferred things with a robust, earthier taste, and overly sweet things gives him headaches. But his long lost twin brother, Stanford? A sugar fiend.

In the early years of their adulthood, he used to pick on Ford about how he might as well just drink club soda and simple syrup, with the types of cocktails he'd usually order.

It made Stanley wonder how similar Ford really was to their Ma, considering that the glass of wine she had with all three meals of the day were typically dessert wines. Stan personally didn't know if she ever drank anything harder when she wasn't around her children, but he did know her favourite was Graham's Six Grapes.

Long Island Ice Tea was one of the most basic bitch cocktails someone could get. And for some reason, it was the one Ford ordered the most frequently.

Drinks served with ice should be drunk quickly, because of the ice melting, diluting the drink and the taste. But Soos, alongside his fiancée Melody, were currently chaperoning Wendy and her friend groups camping trip near Lake Gravity Falls.

Meaning his home was currently empty. Like many nights before Soos, it was just Stan alone with the non-functioning portal that had taken his brother away all of those years ago.

He could nurse this drink for a bit, just to give himself a little bit of time and distance from the source of his despair, which also served as his only hope for the future.

"Happy Birthday, Stanford." Stan said quietly to himself when he was sure the bartender and any other patrons were far enough away no one could hear him. And then took his first sip for the night.

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