#post-weirdmageddon

[arson-avian]

Bill being stuck in prison, just started taking therapy more seriously,

Bill who can feel whenever someone dreams about him,

The town of Gravity Falls, collectively having nightmares about Bill,

Bill, feeling guilt for the first time, watching how much pain he caused these people,

Ford having dreams about when they were happy together,

Bill, feeling the urge to apologize

[truly-morgan]

Fandom: Gravity Falls Relationships: Bill Cipher/Dipper Pines Additional Tags: Older!Dipper, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, but it nothing really big, Post-Weirdmageddon, don't know how it will go, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, ford pines is suspicious, Slow Burn, kind of, Edited Chapters: 12/12 [44k words]

Summary:

“Dipper and Mabel are on vacation in Gravity Falls for yet another summer. They thought things would go as per usual: weird adventures, discoveries and good memories with their friends and Grunkles.

But things might be a little bit different this year when Dipper decides to visit the “grave” of a certain demon and things go… a little bit weird.”

Edited and reworked, see notes for more details about it.

[heavbaint]

Started watching hannibal with my mom, which made me think this up:

(Do not use/repost my art without credit and permission tysm!)

[lincolnheliix]

Ford has no choice but to put up with all of Bill's antics, even when that includes the triangle climbing into a fishing net out of pure curiosity.

[scurvyboy]

Me and my friend love you art!!!! >_< We were wondering if you could draw Fidds and Ford cuddling while playing fortnite?? :3 it's an insane ask but thank you!!! XD

you can unlock the death ray in fortnite right?

[misterpseudonym]

you said forever / tell me why can’t you stay?

[miss-americanbi]

can’t believe bill literally had his “my ex-wife still misses me, but her aim is getting better!” moment when ford tried and immediately failed at shooting him with the quantum destabilizer

[obsessingoveroldmen3]

My account got deleted right after I posted this

Is it really that poorly drawn you had to kill me. Im sorry I'm burned out I can't do much

[spirited-splashes]

He is anything but okay

[barbaricjester]

What if the Mystery Shack was alive. Almost like that movie Monster House, but... Gentler.

It's made from lumber that was grown and chopped down in Gravity Falls, and the entire valley itself has a weirdness to it, which is why weird things are attracted to and tend to stay there. It's not a far stretch to assume that the valley itself, the trees and rocks, are all semi conscious, almost, in an Eldritch sense.

Put under a read more because this got rambly.

What if the Mystery Shack was built, and at first it's angry. Gravity Falls doesn't mind its trees being used for shelter, used to expand the town and protect it, but Stanford wasn't part of the town. He was a stranger.

After he moved in, the cabin itself was hostile to him. It could rearrange his furniture, hide his keys, attract monsters to his door- all of which Ford is oblivious to, for a while. For long enough that the cabin gets to know him, in a sense.

Ford isn't here to hurt the valley's weird things, it realizes in whatever consciousness it has. He's here to learn. To study. To treasure. Slowly, it warms up to him. Things stop going missing. Now monsters show up on the porch, passive and willing to be studied. Now Ford's keys always seem to be right where he thought he put them last.

When Fiddleford joins, the cabin takes a while to warm up to him, too. But it likes the banjo music, and Fiddleford even comments that the house seems calm, almost sleepy, when he plays.

Then of course, things with Bill happens. The cabin isn't strong enough to protect its caretaker, to keep Bill out, but it tries. When Ford wakes with bloody knuckles, a first aid kit is at his bedside table. When he's frantically gulping coffee, the pot always seems full and fresh. When he stumbles inside from the blistering cold, there's a fire roaring in the hearth, a blanket on the couch, to comfort him.

When Bill is possessing Ford's body, the cabin does everything it can to keep him inside, doubling down on Ford's own security to keep Bill away from the portal in its basement.

When Stan arrives, the cabin is as relieved as it can be- there's help, now, Ford will be okay-!

And then Ford is gone, and the cabin is powerless to stop it.

It grieves. It mourns. The shabby cabin sinks in on itself. Its walls peel, its floors crack, melted snow drips thought the roof like tears. It knows the new resident is mourning, too. The new resident doesn't take care of himself, and he doesn't take care of the cabin. When he cries, the groaning logs almost seem to wail with him.

But the new resident is trying. Trying to get Ford back. The portal makes it hard for the cabin to reach down into the basement, but it tries. It watches, anxious and hopeful that its old master will be saved.

As the years go by, the cabin is transformed into the Murder Hut, and later, the Mystery Shack. The night of the grand opening, Stanley pauses and puts his hand on the wall with an anxious sigh. The cabin feels it, and groans as it tries to stand up a little straighter, tries to mend the cracks in its flooring and clear the dust from its own windows. When Stan wanders into the kitchen, he finds a cigar and a drink, waiting for him. It's going to be okay.

Years go by. Stan is aware the cabin has some kind of sentience, but he never outright acknowledges it, other than in quiet moments, when he thanks it, puts a hand on the wall and stands there for a moment.

The cabin likes Soos, because he cleans it and takes care of it. It warms up to Wendy, and she always manages to find a cold can of Pitt Cola or a popsicle when she wants one. The cabin is the one to show her the hatch on the roof.

Then the twins come along, and the cabin can sense how anxious, how excited Stanley is. It cleans itself up as much as it can, proud and anticipating these esteemed guests. And oh, it loves them when they arrive.

The cabin is subtle, at first, but it wants to help. It wants the kids to enjoy staying there. It conjures snacks and sweets aplenty for Mabel, and moved the books around so Dipper always finds something new to read.

Of course Dipper catches on first, especially once he finds the journal. It's a mere footnote, really, that the author left about feeling like the house was alive, but it's enough to get Dipper thinking. He talks to the Shack, he tests things out, and in time, it reveals itself. As muggy summer showers fog the windows, Mabel doodles in the condensation, and finds that something else is drawing with her. Flowers and hearts and smiley faces, she plays tic-tac-toe with no one and is excited to show Dipper.

Of course, Stan denies all of it when they try to tell him, and if the Shack could laugh, it would.

When Gideon takes it over, the cabin has never known such fury. It slams its doors, smashes it's own windows, the floorboards wail and walls crack with rage that Gideon dare hurt its Pines family. It torments, as much as it can, but with the second journal in Gideon's possession, there's only so much it can do that he can't circumnavigate.

At the reopening, the Shack presents its best self. Its so relieved that the family is safe, it conjures boxes of cookie mix and makes their beds a little extra soft. It's never been so relieved to have thumbtacks driven into its rafters as Mabel hangs her posters back up.

And then. And then Stan has the journals again. Then he's buckled down and getting to work, and the cabin stirs, an anticipation, a hope, three decades old beginning to grow anew. It takes care of Stan as he works himself to the limit, helps distract the kids.

And finally, finally, finally- even though it nearly tears the Shack apart, its still alive enough to know when its old master returns, stepping back into its basement. Home at last. Safe.

The whole family, in their own ways, apologize to the Shack as it's repaired after that, but it just sighs. Just groans. It's alright. It's just happy to have Ford back. It tries conjuring endless coffee, first aid kits and blankets again for him, and Ford laughs, pats the wall and promises that he's okay, that he missed the Shack, too.

The unicorn spell makes the Shack stronger. It can't speak, it can't move, but it is proud to do what it does best- protect.

Weirdmageddon comes, and the shack doesn't think twice about opening its doors to the cryptids, creatures, and survivors. It's the Shack but it's made of the valley, and the valley's residents need protection. It locks itself down, keeps them all safe inside, dolling out blankets and aid kits until it has utterly exhausted itself and its magic. As anxious as a house can be, it frets for the missing Pines members, and is overjoyed when Mabel and Dipper return.

When they decide to make the Shacktron, Stanley is the only one to think to ask the house if it's okay with that. The Shack doesn't like it, but if it means saving the valley, then... It groans softly to Stan. It's going to be okay.

The Shack nearly dies in the fight. The unicorn spell is the only thing that holds it and its consciousness together. It's collapsed, ruinous, rubble, when the family returns. It's feeble, but it tries. It straightens up Stan's recliner, clears the debris off the seat. The Shack is exhausted. It's mourning. But the family is safe.

It's all but dormant as they do repairs. It can't conjure or rearrange things, and the family frets over it. The day of the kids birthday, though, the Shack rouses itself. It sits up a little straighter, holds their birthday banner aloft with pride.

It's sad, too, though. It knows the Pines are leaving. Soos and his abuelita are welcome to stay- and the Shack is relieved it won't be empty- but it misses the Pines terribly. It slams its shutters and the floorboards creak in protest as the little twins leave. It throws an even bigger tantrum when the older ones go, and only settles when they all promise to be back next summer.

(in the meantime, the Shack has a lot of work to do, helping the new Mr. Mystery manage everything. Soos never quite catches on, but Abuelita does.)

So the Shack stays. It waits. It hopes, and it protects.

And when the next summer rolls around, when its family comes back, it welcomes them in, welcomed them home, with open doors.

[senipsenipsenip]

The Pines family sat at the table, quietly eating their breakfast, when Mabel slammed her hands on the table and shouted “KERMIT THE FROG”.

Dipper leapt forward to right his orange juice glass, gathering nearby napkins to sop up the puddle. “What?”

“Kermit the frog! He plays the banjo!”

“Yyyyes?”

Ford raised his hand. “Who’s Kermit the Frog?”

Stan snapped his head up from his plate. “Who’s Kermit the Frog? The Muppets, Pointdexter, you were around for The Muppet Show. They had a movie and everything.”

Ford frowned. “Muppets.”

“Yeah, they’re a riot! There’s this Bear whose got some great puns and this pig who really know how to throw a punch. You’d love it, they’ve even got a scientist!”

Ford raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t realize you were such a fan of children’s television.”

“Children?!”

Dipper stirred his cereal. “I’m just impressed you remember all that. Yesterday you forgot you were married.”

“That’s because The Muppets are forever!” Mabel exclaimed.

“Wait, Stanley you were married?”

“Yep. Actually, unless I’m forgetting a divorce, I might still be married.”

“You didn’t,” Mabel chirped. “I’d have it on my Romance Chart if you did. You’ve missed a lot of anniversaries.”

“So has he!” Stan argued. “I’m not the only bad husband here!”

Ford spluttered. “Husband?”

Dipper frowned. “I think we’re getting a little too far away from why Mabel screamed Kermit the Frog and knocked my orange juice over.”

Mabel nodded. “Right, so, I was thinking of Mr. McGucket -

“Stanley you have a husband?“

“I was thinking of Mr. McGucket,” Mabel interrupted. “And how he could maybe help around the Shack. And he plays banjo! He could play banjo and people could put money in his lil banjo case like a real musician.”

At the mention of money, Stan leaned forward.

“But like, no one knows banjo music,” Mabel continued. “So I was like, maybe pop hits banjo? But then BOOM! Kermit the Frog! People love that frog. He could play the rainbow song. He’d be a hit!”

“Interesting,” Stan muttered. “Preying on people’s nostalgia to milk them for cash. I love it!”

Ford hummed. “Actually, that’s not a bad idea, Mabel. Activities like playing musical instruments have been proven to help patients with Alzheimers and dementia. Not that Fiddleford’s condition has the same root cause, but it may prove beneficial to memory recovery.”

“Eugh, don’t ruin this for me.”

“If playing an instrument helps with memory loss, maybe Grunkle Stan should learn an instrument,” Dipper suggested.

“Ooo!” Mabel squealed. “What about guitar? Or the piano? OH!” She clutched Stan’s arm with a fervor. “The triangle!”

Ford grimaced. “Maybe not that one.”

“Sorry, kid. I’m not exactly a music guy,” Stan shrugged out of Mabel’s grasp. “Let’s leave that to the professionals.”

Mabel frowned, but let the topic go.

Ford stood from the table. “Well, I happen to be visiting Fiddleford this afternoon. I can broach the topic and see what he thinks.”

Fiddleford, as it turns out, loved the idea. To the surprise of everyone, Fiddleford admitted that he had always wanted to play in a jugband when he was younger, but could never get over his stage fright enough to audition for the local band. Then he went off to college and then…everything else.

“Maybe I zapped away that scared bit enough to play!” he had cackled, knocking at the side of his head with his knuckles.

It was settled. “Fiddlin’ Fridays at the Mystery Shack with Fiddleford McGucket”. Dipper tried to point out the title didn’t make sense since it was a banjo, not a fiddle. Stan argued that “customers are suckers for alliteration”. The set up was just Fiddleford dragging an old rocking chair onto the porch and opening up his banjo case. Mabel had made a large glittery banner, but it was quickly absconded by Fiddleford’s raccoon.

“Tell your wife to give me back my banner!” Mabel had yelled, chasing the raccoon into the bushes.

“Ex-wife,” Fiddleford sighed sadly. “Apparently I was too emotionally available.”

Ford pulled at his hair. “Did everyone get married without telling me?”

“Excuse me?” A voice piped up. Fiddleford and Ford turned to see a little boy standing at the bottom of the porch. He was dressed in hiking clothes that were obviously new. In the distance, a young woman was unstrapping a baby from its seat in an SUV. Obviously city folk coming to the “wilderness” for the first time.

“Are you a real hillbilly?” The boy asked. Suddenly the door slammed open, Mr. Mystery striding through, eyepatch in place.

“Sure is!” Stan grinned. “Our very own genuine hillbilly just waiting to play you a tune! All you gotta do is put some of your mom’s money in his case there.”

The little boy’s eyes widened, turning around to race towards his mother.

“Stanley,” Ford admonished. “Fiddleford isn’t some show monkey to throw money at.”

“During work hours he is.” Stan turned to Fiddleford. “So, did Mabel teach you that song she was so excited about?”

Fiddleford sat frozen, watching the little boy yank at his mothers pants to try and get her attention, the baby beginning to fuss.

“Well…” Fiddleford cleared his throat. “Some good news and bad news fellas.”

Ford furrowed his brows. “What is it?”

“Good news is, my mind ain’t all broken.” Fiddleford hugged his banjo and turned to look up at Ford. “Bad news is I knows it ‘cause I still got stage fright.”

Stan scoffed. “Stage fright? C’mon it’s one kid and a couple o’ city slickers who would probably think you playing three wrong notes and spitting is ‘authentic’.”

“Stanley, be supportive.”

“I am! Look I’ve been at this job forever. All you gotta do is smile and if something goes wrong, you blame a ghost or something. They eat that up.”

Fiddleford shook his head. “But this is music. If’n I mess up music, ‘specially somethin’ they know. Music is real special to people, I can’t spoil it.”

Ford knelt down next to Fiddleford’s chair. “You don’t have to play that song Fiddleford. You don’t have to play at all.”

Fiddleford looked anxiously between Ford and the family. It seemed the little boy had finally gotten his mother’s attention and was excitedly pointing toward the porch.

“I…” Fiddleford shook his head. “I can’t let the little ‘uns down. ‘Specially not those ones.” As he said this, he gestured with his chin towards the other end of the porch where Dipper and Mabel sat bickering in lawn chairs. Mabel had returned from her raccoon chase covered in twigs and holding a surprisingly docile raccoon. Dipper was leaning away from the pair while trying to convince Mabel to stop feeding it gummy worms before it developed a taste for human food and tried breaking into the Shack.

Ford's gaze drifted to the twins. "Alright," he relented. "But you still don't have to play Mabel's song."

Fiddleford bowed his head.

"Yet!" Ford offered. "Not yet. She'll understand I'm sure."

Fiddleford frowned, looking unconvinced.

"Of course not yet!" Stan interjected. "You can't go playing the grand finale right out of the gate! You gotta warm 'em up first, keep 'em wanting more." Stan slapped his hand on Fiddleford's back. "If you give 'em what they want right away, they won't come back! Hold that one off until tomorrow or...uh...next week. Tease it or something."

Stan had started rubbing the back of his neck with his other hand as he spoke, a tell Ford was quick to recognize. It was the same one he did when he would "begrudgingly" let Mabel choose the movie for movie night or let Dipper rope him into another game of Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons. Covering the most vulnerable part of his body while he let his emotions go soft.

Fiddleford seemed to perk up at Stan's words.

"Well," Fiddleford offered. "I do know some proper jugband music. Only, it don't have the same ring to it without a jug."

"We've got a jug!" Mabel cheered from the other side of the porch. It seemed the raccoon argument had reached enough of a truce that the twins were once again paying attention to the concert. "I used to keep pond water in it, it's in the kitchen!" She hopped off of her chair, lugging the racoon along with her like it was a rather expensive lap cat.

Dipper followed her. "Why did you have a jug of pond water?"

"Because, dummy, if I met a frog prince he would need something in the shack to remind him of home."

"Aren't you supposed to turn him into a person though?"

Whatever Mabel's retort was to be was cut off by the door swinging shut.

"There ya go," Stan grumbled. "You're getting your jug. Just in time too." He gestured toward the SUV. The mother was walking toward the Shack, one hand holding the baby, the other gripping tightly to the little boy's hand. The little boy gripped a few dollars in his fist, eyes alight with excitement.

Fiddleford looked frantic. "I can't sing and play the jug at the same time!" He gripped at his hat, pulling it down over his ears.

Ford sighed. "Then don't play the jug."

"It won't be the same!" Fiddleford shook his head. "A jugband without a jug that's...that's like a body with no heartbeat!"

The door swung open and Mabel emerged with an old ceramic jug.

"Here it is!" she exclaimed. "And it only sort of smells like pond scum."

"I don't think that will be necessary," Ford smiled gently. "It seems Fiddleford can't play both simultaneously."

Mabel frowned. "But it's a jugband. It's in the name!"

"How about we wait another day," Ford offered, patting Fiddleford awkwardly on the back. "Maybe someone in town will join you."

"Oh for Pete's sake, give it to me." Stan snatched the jug out Mabel's hand, sniffing at the top and giving a grimace.

Fiddleford stopped pulling at his hat, peeking out from under the brim. "You'll play?"

Stan grunted. "I'm not missing out on good money just because you have a case of the heebie jeebies. Besides, how hard can it be? It's like blowing on the top of a beer...er...I mean soda bottle."

Dipper crossed his arms. "Grunkle Stan, we know what beer is."

"Not from me you don't."

Mabel squealed. "It's happening! Grunkle Stan is learning an instrument!"

"It's not an instrument, Pumpkin. It's dishware."

"It's a scrapbookortunity!"

Mabel dashed into the house once more, leaving Dipper to grin at their Grunkle Stan.

The family was only a few yards away now. Fiddleford looked between Stan, Ford, and Dipper, and straightened up in his seat.

"Alright. Alright!" He clapped his hands together. "Stanley, you get down here with me, otherwise your feet are gonna get mighty sore from standing." He yanked at Stanley's hand until he sat beside the rocking chair with a grumble.

"Now when I tap my foot," Fiddleford instructed. "You blow on the jug. One short note at a time." Fiddleford tapped his foot in demonstration. "You got that?"

Stanley rolled his eyes. "Gee, I don't know. Seems pretty complicated for the guy without a PhD."

Mabel burst through the door, camera clutched in her hands. "Got it!"

"Excuse me?"

The little boy stood on the porch, approaching the banjo case with far more trepidation than before. Eyes darting between the assembly, he dropped a few dollars in the case.

"Is this enough to play a song?"

Fiddleford didn't bother looking at the money. He turned his gaze to Stanley, who shrugged and raised the jug to his lips.

Fiddleford grinned. "You know ‘Boodle Am Shake’?"

The little boy shook his head.

"Well you're about to!" And with that he was off.

By Fiddleford's standards, it wasn't a horribly complicated tune. Ford had heard him pluck out more complex riffs while waiting for the coffee pot in their dorm room to brew. But Fiddleford was smiling. His shoulders had dropped from around his ears, and he was nodding at the little boy to tap his feet along with him. Ford hid his smile behind his hands as he watched Stanley, eyes focused on Fiddleford's bare foot with as much attention as one would give to diffusing a bomb. Next to him, Mabel was snapping pictures of the pair. Dipper stood on his other side, wearing the small smile he tended to get when feeling introspective. Ford laid his hand on Dipper's shoulder, and Dipper leaned into the touch.

The mother was smiling at her little boy, her baby having finally stopped fussing. Maybe it wasn't the grand attraction Mabel had planned, but Ford thought it was worth far more than those few dollars anyway. Nothing could be worth more than his family standing around him, his closest friend singing again.

I know this song, it don't mean a doggone thing. Just do that good old Charleston swing. When you sing...

[ckret2]

is this anything

[cloudysarts]

ever since i was a kid, ive wondered what it would look like if mabel was convinced to rule gravity falls alongside bill during weirdmageddon.....and my au FINALLY gave me an excuse to draw up a design for it!!!! SO, i introduce you to: Henchmaniac Mabel!!!!!!!! look at how cute she is!!!! <3 more context under the cut!!!

(other mabels muse au parts can be found here, here, and here!)

if you don't wanna check out the other parts, a really quick summary of this au is that: near the beginning of summer, bill reveals himself to mabel, and they become fast friends. everyone else in town assumes hes imaginary, but she knows hes real. what she DOESNT know, is that he has ulterior motives for wanting to get on her good side, specifically....

eventually, that leads to this!!! ford and dipper pull away from her, upon the discovery that shes working with a demon, which makes her feel more isolated than ever. shes convinced they just have the wrong idea, about bill. when ford suggests dipper stay with him after the summers over, she finally breaks down, and is comforted by her "muse". he promises her more summer! if she just break's her great-uncle's rift :)

of course, mabel isnt a MONSTER. and bill knows this! he knows that she might think his idea of a party is a liiiittle bit extreme. so, at the beginning of weirdmageddon, he gives her a gift! a pair of magic goggles! and juuuust enough of his power so that she can share in the joy of re-decorating the town :)

[fist-of-vengeance]

hey. can people please stop parroting "stan only regained his memory because it's a disney show" like it's an objective fact and somehow a storytelling flaw? because that's reductionist and straight up untrue. stan regaining his memory is not a random deus ex machina, it's clearly established earlier in the season that the memory gun isn't permanent via mcgucket's storyline. as soon as mcgucket watches the tapes in society of the blind eye, he begins to gradually heal and regain his memories. it makes perfect sense that mabel's scrapbook (and in journal three, stan and ford's old home movies) would function the same way for stan.

realistically, stan probably wouldn't have remembered his entire life in the span of a week, but his recovery is obviously being condensed for the sake of pacing. there's a ton of awesome fanworks based on the idea that he's still recovering new memories long after the end of the show, particularly from the darkest period of his life when he was homeless and estranged from his family. but that's not relevant to the finale. what matters for the show's purposes is that stan remembers the events of the past summer, so that his goodbye with dipper and mabel at the end of the episode holds dramatic weight. because THAT'S HOW YOU WRITE A STORY.

[lincolnheliix]

Ford has tried to get Bill to eat normal food, but Bill seems more interested in everything inedible because- funny.

[nenoname]

Journal 3’s references to Stan

(…does the Lost Pages count as J3 when some had to be in J2 and also may or may not be a truth lie turducken? idk. Ford’s TBoB letters sure as hell don’t count as J3 but I’m including them here anyway)

Lost Journal Pages

"STANLEY COULD HAVE MADE HER LAUGH"

“My stomach sank a bit when I realized… it was my birthday. This day has felt… odd, since S and I… parted ways.”

"I was adjusting my TV antennae for weather reports (looking for ideal conditions for F's first portal test) and spat out my coffee when I saw THIS! My brother hawking scams under the name "Panley Stines." I had half a mind to call that number, just to pretend to be the police and maybe scare S straight for once! There is something so galling about seeing your OWN FACE committing crimes on your own TV! When my Muse saw me break my stress ball, I decided it was finally time to vent about Stanley."

""How about that; you've got an inferior clone! Why didn't you just eat him in the womb? Think of how powerful you'd be!"

"You can't just eat your twin, Bill."

You'd be surprised what you can eat! I say sure, call him if you want him to start mooching off you again! ME, I went no contact with my home dimension and I don't regret it. All they did was hold me back and sabotage my talents! Can you imagine?"

"More than you know. But you do ever wonder if maybe... maybe things could have been different?""

"Our heat budget was so tight that Mom forced S and me to wear one sweater at the same time. (She called it the "Abominable Snow-Stan." Our cat lived in fear of it year-round.)"

“DAMN! This morning I found F rummaging through my old copy of Urban Legends of New Jersey, where I had forgotten I had hidden some old personal items! I’ve quickly re-hidden them here, away from prying eyes.”

"But then he crossed a line. Helplessly I watched Cipher in my own body limp up to a pay phone and dial... STANLEY'S phone number from the infomercial?! No. He wouldn't.

"Hey brother, it's Sixer. I'm going to take a swim in the frozen lake tomorrow, and I might not ever come back, so if you don't hear from me, I just want you to know that it's because I never loved you. BUH-BYEEEEE."

My heart was in my throat until I heard the dial tone... The pay phone was out of order. The message hadn't gotten through. Cipher turned back to address me.

"TSK, TSK, TSK. LOOK WHAT YOU MADE ME MAKE YOU DO! TOMORROW'S TAPE IS GONNA BE MUCH WORSE.""

(Bro secret code) "miss you"

“The snow has begun to fall again and there’s very little time. There’s only one left I can turn to to protect my journals while I prepare for the journey…”

"S is an overgrown child with none of my rigorous mental training. Who knows what could happen if Cipher stepped inside Stanley's mind for even one minute...

What if Stanley somehow manages to destroy the portal just like he destroyed my perpetual motion machine? I suppose that machine did work in its own way... It kept me perpetually angry for thirty years."

(Bro secret code) "HAVE I BEEN TOO HARSH ALL ALONG?"

"What if he tries to rope me into his latest get-rich-quick scheme? His latest commercial was for "Stan Sauce: The Miracle Sauce that's too cool for the FDA!"

What if... he mocks me? What if he sees that I abandoned our family to become a recluse on the brink of madness? Could I risk admitting that I was... wrong?

PROS: I have no one else. Well, that settles it. It's time to come face-to-face with a face I haven't seen in 10 years. My own face. Which... is my brother's face. God, I miss sleep."

Ford’s Letters

"In the weeks since Weirdmageddon, I conducted numerous tests on Stanley's mind (his terrible jokes are still intact) and inspected the state for dimensional leakage (we also took turns kicking the statue, and Stanley took a few cracks with a crowbar). I burned every Cipher-shaped item I had ever collected, and even threw away all my one-dollar bills, just to be safe (Stanley, of course, found and pocketed them).

“I emerged from my lab after days of agonized contemplation to find- to my shock- that Mabel was reading the book, out loud, to Stanley, Dipper, Soos, and Wendy!”

“They didn’t see me as an irredeemable screwup. Stanley said, "So, your past is just a giant pile of mistakes? Congratulations- you really are a Pines!”“

"Bill may tell you that happiness requires conquering galaxies and living forever, but I've seen enough of the universe to tell you that he's wrong. I've found my happiness. And it looks like this:"

"If you're reading this... then I am dead. Kidding! Sorry, Stanley thought that would be funny. Ha-ha! We're currently out shopping for harpoons to prepare for our trip to the arctic."

"Stan, if you end breaking into my lab at some point later today- Bravo! Still as good a locksmith as in 8th grade. Beers are under the desk."

(It kinda strikes me that the BoB Lost Journal pages about Stan sound far more like post-portal Ford’s opinions on Stan instead, where he’s openly angry at both being pushed into the portal + at the portal being opened again + his murder suicide attempt being foiled + Stan disowning him + turning his house into a tourist trap + taking his identity vs pre-portal Ford being more… melodramatic(?) constantly being reminded of him but not wanting to linger too long? idk the vibes are different

Plus pre-portal Ford pretty consistently only calls Stan "S” or just refers to him as his brother (with the exception of him writing his name in a Caesar cipher). I think he only ever messes up the general naming scheme a single time when he wrote Fiddleford instead of F

…not to mention the perpetual motion machine comment says thirty instead of ten years)

Other sections: Pre-Portal, Post-Portal, Post-Weirdmageddon