#put that ugly holey sweater away

[helianthus21]

is this the time hyun-su finally gets a new shirt omg

[castlevania-afterdark-imagines]

Christmas Special: Characters spending Christmas with their S/O

HAPPY HOE-LIDAYS!!!

Christmas morning is happening all around the world, but no matter what you do or don’t celebrate, or how you do or don’t celebrate it, we here at Afterdark hope y’all have a wonderful time! 

The holidays are hard (pun not intended), but please know that if you’ve ever enjoyed a post on this blog, we love you, we appreciate you, and wish you all the best in the world.

Here’s your present!

Trevor

AINT NO CHRISTMAS LIKE A BELMONT FAMILY CHRISTMAS! 

Lights, food, music, more lights!

His whole extended family gets together for this, so expect to be dragged along to many many events throughout the month. 

No pressure about the gift buying though, they're all very practical people and contributing to the food pile is a perfectly acceptable offering. 

You never would have guessed the size if his personal ugly sweater hoard.

And you are less surprised to find his mistletoe belt buckle. 

It's not so much he gets jolly as he and his family honor the traditional route of drinking and feasting. 

He's very shy about his few gifts he gets you though, when you both get to have Christmas Day to yourselves. 

He gets a few necessities, like the soaps you like and socks to replace all the holey ones he tossed behind your back. (The man can have holey underwear but is weirdly specific about socks being intact)

But among them he'll get a cheesy sentimental thing, like a locket his nan thought you'd like or a card with a better poem than he has any right to be able to write. 

With the rest of the month having been crazy, this day he wants to spend with you, in pjs, nibbling on leftovers and watching movies. 

Begs you not to get sexy santa lingerie because he really doesn't need to be reminded of his family while fucking you that night. 

Adrian 

He can enjoy the sentimentality of the season, but you can see him roll his eyes at gaudy Christmas displays. 

He sees mistletoe in doorways less as an opportunity for a grand romantic gesture and more of a game. 

How many seconds does it take him to go from noticing to smooching your face?

You have the suspicion he might also be so quick about it because he wants to make sure there's no window of opportunity for anyone else to come in.

He offers to spend the holiday with your family if you prefer, his parents aren't sticklers about the exact day you visit. 

He uses the cold weather as an excuse to be ten times more cuddly than normal.  Obviously he just doesn't want you to catch a cold. Obviously…

Kid damn near forgets to buy gifts. 

He's just so used to getting things as you need them he forgot to actually hold anything back to the holiday. 

He does get cheeky with them though, adding things like "Christmas Edition" naughty dice next to your favorite candy. 

Hey, the point of the holidays is to have fun, right?

Sypha

Caroling, caroling, caroling- Sypha it is literally December 1st.

Expect there to be music playing through the house 24/7 of a wide range of genres.

While her family has always spent extra care to teach each other about the variety of celebrations during the winter months they would settle on Christmas as the day to actually get together. Work schedules and all. 

Has much more fun with Christmas activities than gifts or food. Sledding, building snowmen, watching movies, quality time is huge for her. 

Her family has such a variety of ways to spend the holiday she has to ask you exactly what your family might expect of her if you visit. 

Very much a getter of "us" gifts. Fancy coffee for us to try,  a new toaster for us to use, spa passes for us to go to tomorrow. 

When things boil down she's a bit glum, knowing most people will go back to being less kind without the holidays and a looming hint to be nice. 

But she can't stay sad for long with you to be with her until next Christmas. 

Hector

December always sneaks up on him, you can tell by the eye rolling when he hears the music in the stores change overnight.

Not digging the cold much, but he will risk freezing to avoid the gaudy Xmas sweaters. 

Snowflakes are fine, he draws the line at lights and tinsel. 

You can tell he gets a little salty about a lot of people only acting nice during this month but he can't stay sour when he sees you glow under the lights strung up between street lights. 

Spends extra time at the animal shelters, helping them bring critters in from the cold and he donates all the blankets and pillows he can grab from second hand stores. 

He's not a huge gift giver, but if there's something specific you've been eyeing he'll go out of his way to make sure you don't get it for yourself.

Is the YouTube boyfriend who gets you the puppy/kitten you've been looking at online,  minus actually filming it. 

He also loves making a big Christmas Eve meal,  even if it's just the two of you,  and then having delicious leftovers for days after. 

Isaac

Probably the one who needs the most persuading to be…"jolly".

No Christmas sweaters, no Christmas music, any carolers are getting a door shut in their face. 

He finds it the biggest spit in the face for people to think being jolly for 25 days undoes all of the cruelties of the world.

But you discover he has a soft spot for decorations, especially the lights. 

He likes the handcrafted ornaments and the reflection of people's personalities in how they arrange their homes. 

But of course he won't discourage you from enjoying the season, he just has trouble doing it himself. 

When it comes to gifts he's very simple,  minimal wrapping, but he does make a little game of it.

Why put everything under a tree when you can find small tokens of his affection by the coffee mugs, on your nightstand, maybe in the pantry?

He cuts off the baking early in the month though once he notices the slightest tightness to his belt. 

He can't say no to your cooking, clearly this isn't his fault!

Dracula

Is he a scrooge? Not… exactly. 

He gets testy about the hypocrisy of a celebrity holiday turned commercial and the religious overtones and the worst version of "Santa Baby" to be released in his lifetime which he always thought was a garbage song in the first place-

But for you he can suck it up. 

He always gets confused at how people with wish him a Merry Christmas for things like holding doors during December, even though he does that year round. 

To be honest he'll follow your leads, not carrying many traditions with him. 

You like big family gatherings? Sure, he can bring the roast beef or honey ham for the crowd. You want to hide away and drink peppermint schnapps in hot chocolate watching horror movies? Strange approach but whatever makes you happy. 

He won't buy a ton of gifts, but the one thing he has a weakness for is holiday lingerie. It is perhaps the one thing he could argue that pays tribute to the original holiday practices, fucking. 

It's gaudy and can be ripped apart easily but replacing it is what next Christmas is for.

Lisa 

You can guess by the boxes upon boxes labeled "XMAS" living in the attic that there's some serious decorating that's gonna happen December 1st.

Lights everywhere, giving a little ray of hope and magic. At least that's how she will describe the effect she wants her elaborate display to have. 

No religious symbols, since she wants the feelings of goodwill to be broader in scope. 

She'll drag you outside to browse other people's displays, squeezing your hand and pulling you close and she gets lost in the glittering lights. 

She doesn't push much for the family get togethers, she likes to keep things intimate and personal with you. 

Movies, going ice skating, just taking the time to appreciate being together. 

Which means she's a hell of an accurate gift giver, always finding the exact thing you need without you having to ask for it. 

She also does a loooot of baking. She does donate a lot of it, and will give it to carolers if they come by, but you might need to step in to tell her that you have no more room in the fridge or pantry for all of the goodies. 

Godbrand

The whole of December was quiet...too quiet. 

Sure he was up to his usual hijinks, but not really feeding into the holiday theme.

Aside from the stash of eggnog in the fridge and gigantic bottle of rum to go with it. 

You would've thought he'd completely ignored the tree aside from a few baubles that got rearranged. 

Then Christmas Eve rolls around and he's full ugly sweater, glitter and lights in his beard, sack of gifts over his shoulder,  "Ho ho ho Merry FUCKING Christmas!" 

Apparently he doesn't think much of wasting the whole month being half assed when he can go balls to the walls in one night. 

Spoils the fuck out of any kids in either of your families. 

Once your home alone, expect the whole ribbon on his dick, sexy Santa ready to "cum down your chimney" bit.

Is it gaudy and ridiculous as fuck? Yes.

But he'd rather be over the top for you than make you think he just hadn't cared at all. 

-Mod Soviet

[goldeneyedgirl]

Ficathon: Mad World

I’ve spent today on uni work and chipping away on Shadow to Light, so instead of a prompt fic, have a sample of one of my WIPs - this one is Mad World, a fic where Alice is the daughter of Charlie Swan’s estranged sister who goes to live with Bella and Charlie. It was an experiment in gothic horror/romance, tbh.

“If you don't know where you are going any road can take you there.” - Lewis Carroll

When I look up at the sky in Forks, I don’t see clouds. Or I do, but they’re obscured by leaves and branches; the forest stretches above me and it’s nice. Private and safe, even though it makes it feel a lot later and darker than it really is. It’s like we’re in a cocoon, and there’s no one else in the world.

I return to reality as his teeth rasp against my stomach, above my belly button, and I giggle, ticklish. I’m splayed across a rock, and it's scratching my back - my sweater is balled up in the dirt, and my shirt is pushed up above my bra.

My fingers twist in his hair and I smirk as he looks back up at me. Jasper Hale; who I sit next to in History and in Trig. His shirt hangs open, revealing a body that will be taking pride of place in my fantasies.

“You okay?” His voice is low and even, but his eyes are sharp. Dark, and watching me. For a moment, I see calculation and something I should react to. Something dangerous. Like he could kill me right here and now; fuck me and choke me; rip me into wet, meaty pieces; beat my skull into dust with a rock. This boy, this man, is dangerous, and I have invited him to get much, much closer. He could do whatever he wanted to me, and he wouldn’t be the first.

And I don’t care. That darkness, that rage, and potential for violence, I’m not scared of it. I haven’t been for a long time. It’s easier to consent than to resist. And more than that, I like that darkness. I like that sharp edge. And what I know of Jasper Hale, I like.

Whatever I am feeling twists and fades into the steady thrum of lust, of confidence and willingness.

“Absolutely nothing,” I say, and tug his hair to bring his face closer to mine.

And that’s how I spent my third afternoon in Forks; fooling around with Jasper Hale in the woods behind the high school auditorium.

—

It’s a rainy Thursday night when I finally, finally arrive in Forks. And in that moment, it is the most beautiful place on earth - the green of the forest, the grey of the rain, the fresh air. It is Shangri-La on Earth, and I am apart of it.

I left North Carolina on Monday, and since then have taken a bus, a train, another bus, another train, and a third bus. I have layers upon layers of deodorant and grime upon my skin; my phone is dead; my hair is greasy from the endless styling tutorials I looked up to combat boredom, and all I want is something to eat and a shower. Anything that isn’t itchy seats, never-ending road, or snack foods would be heaven upon earth at this moment.  

In truth, I don’t feel human anymore. I feel like a transient spirit, a modern-day gypsy, a lost girl. That for the rest of time, this will be my life - dirt and fuel and waiting for an end that never comes. But somehow, I have made it to Forks; the red ‘x’ on my photocopied map is finally a real place, with buildings and streets and people. Forks isn’t home, but it is the most welcoming sight I have had in years.  

I jump down from the bus; a backpack on my shoulder, a satchel across my chest and a duffle bag in one hand. For all intents and purposes, this is all I own in the world. Twenty-three dollars in my wallet, and my entire life in my bags. I could go anywhere I wanted, except twenty-three dollars won’t take me many places.

No one else on the bus carries as much luggage as I do, and no one is dressed alike either - I changed at the Seattle bus station into my second-to-last clean outfit, to try and make a good impression. Everyone else is wearing a jeans-parka-boots combination, which is probably smart with the horrible weather. Not that I will miss the hideous summers of North Carolina. But I get the sense that this bus is full of locals, who busted happened to be travelling from Port Angeles or Seattle. There’s something about them, like the green of the forest, the dirt and mud of the ground, the rainwater has sunken into their bodies and marked them invisibly as belonging to the town of Forks. I wonder if I’ll be here long enough to be marked too.

The bus station is the smallest I’ve been to on this whirlwind road trip - a tiny convenience store, a spinning rack of postcards, a payphone, and endless wooden benches.

Uncle Charlie is right there, waiting for me - sitting on a bench with a paper cup of coffee. Even if he hadn’t been wearing his uniform, I would have guessed he was my uncle. He doesn’t strictly look like my mother, but there is something in the way they carry themselves, the way that they fill space. I don’t know. I just know that he is definitely Mom’s little brother, one Chief Charlie Swan of Forks, WA.

My new guardian - saviour or gaoler is yet to be determined.

“Uncle Charlie!” I put a big smile on my face and march straight up to him - if life has taught me nothing else, it’s that first impressions count.  And not to piss off the person in charge of your welfare. “I’m Alice.”

Uncle Charlie looked up at me, and for a moment, just stared.

So, my outfit wasn’t the best first impression I could have picked. But it was the only one left that I could wear in public - my beloved, holey galaxy leggings; ancient floral Dr Martens that I had laced with pink ribbons; a giant purple and black sweater, and a black miniskirt. Combined with the pancake make-up I had used to cover up my blotchy-skin and dark under-eye circles, my greasy hair knotted in two buns with my collection of dollar-store butterfly clips, and the fact that I smelt like four days of bus, sweat, and fried food, I definitely looked like the devil child my mother probably portrayed me as.

“Mary Alice!” Uncle Charlie recovered. “How was your trip?” He smiled awkwardly and stood up.

“Long,” I said ruefully. “But I’m here now.”

—

Uncle Charlie tried to make conversation as we drove back to his place, as if a truncated game of ‘Twenty Questions’ could undo the awkwardness of not knowing about each other for seventeen years.

And it wasn’t like I could abridge my messy, ridiculous life story into a fifteen minute car trip, anyway. Or that Charlie Swan could become a beloved uncle between the bus station and his home.

Who was I?

I was Mary-Alice Brandon, eldest daughter of Annette Marie Swan-Ackerman, the only child of the late artist Nicholas Brandon. Resented step-daughter of Stephen Ackerman. A granddaughter and a niece and a half-sister. Former prisoner of a remote reform school. Epileptic. A secret keeper, and an artist.

How could I tell Uncle Charlie all the tiny details that made up me, and the reason I was here with him now?

That my mother is no Swan, but a chameleon, a snake, a cuckoo in the nest?

That the last of my stitches came out last week, but the scars still itch like crazy?

That I used to love gas-station slushies, especially pink ones, until I was twelve? That now I love soda, so cold it makes your brain and teeth hurt, and tastes like static?

And besides, what do I know about Charlie and my cousin? He’s a divorced police chief, and his daughter Isabella is also seventeen years old - five months older than me - and lives with him full-time. She attends the local public high school. That my grandparents are dead, and my ex-aunt has since remarried.

That’s it. That’s all I really know. And I am about to live with them.

If I think about it too much, it just feels like another trap.

—

The Swan house was small, but then, so were all the houses on the street. It was old, too, but I’d always known that was a probability. It didn’t make it easier, though. I’ve never done well in old houses. It needed a few repairs - the paint was peeling off, one of the shutters was hanging at an angle, and the front garden was dirt, grass, moss and ferns. Uncle Charlie struck me as a neat and practical kind of person, so this was surprising. But maybe in the spring, I could coax some kind of garden to life, as a way to say thank-you.

We walked in the backdoor, letting it swing shut behind us with a bang.  Inside, the hallway was narrow and dark, with stairs leading up, and a few aged pieces of art hung on the plaid walls - mostly landscapes, and several of fish that were very good, if hideously ugly.

The first thing my eye caught was the mantlepiece in the sitting room, above the fireplace - a shrine to a teenage girl who bore a startling resemblance to Mom.

“Wow,” I said, moving closer. The eyes, the smile, the brown hair - this had to be my cousin. “Is that Isabella?”

“Yeah, that’s Bells. She’s out with her boyfriend at the moment,” Uncle Charlie said, setting down my duffle bag.

“She looks just like Mom,” I said, amazed. It was uncanny - Bella looked more like Mom’s daughter than I did.

“I guess she does,” Uncle Charlie said. “Bells is much prettier than Annette was at that age - but that’s all Renee.”

Charlie sounded uncomfortable, and I had to admit to myself that I was uncomfortable hearing my mother’s name. Turning away from the photographs, I pasted a smile back on my face.

“Sorry, I’m easily distracted,” I said. “You were going to show me my room?”

“Yeah. It’s not much,” Uncle Charlie began. “It’s pretty small…”

“You’re taking me in. That makes everything else perfect,” I said firmly, grabbing my backpack again. “Lead the way.”

—

Well.

Uncle Charlie had warned me that my bedroom was tiny.

It was more than tiny – more like a large alcove with glass doors. The walls were off-white, and a square window looked over a tiny yard and the forest. A narrow bed was wedged against the wall, made up with a hideous yellow bedspread. A dresser was arranged against the wall between the bed and doors. Opposite the dresser was a tiny desk and chair. Jammed in the gap at the end of the bed, next to the desk, was an old laundry hamper.

I was betting I could touch the window and the door with my arms outstretched.

Luckily I was used to small living spaces. I wasn’t sharing with anyone; that was enough to make up for the fact that this room would have been a better closet. Or window box. Apparently, Uncle Charlie had used it as an office when he needed to bring work home.

I set my bags on the bed. This was going to be my home for the next year and a half. It felt overwhelming all of a sudden, that I would be living with an uncle and cousin I had never even met before. It wasn’t like school, where I had shared a room with seven other girls, and we’d all been strangers.

I could do this.

It was only eighteen months. I had been away at school nearly three times that long, and if I could survive school, I could survive living at Uncle Charlie’s.

I had intended to unpack and settle in before dinner, but in the end, I just changed into some pyjamas, shoved my bags under the bed, and fallen asleep nearly instantly. I didn’t wake up until much later, almost midnight, starving and disorientated. I crept out of my room, making a note to buy some kind of curtains for the glass doors to give myself some privacy.

Uncle Charlie and my cousin were clearly already asleep, so I got myself a glass of water. There was a note scrawled out for me, telling me to help myself to food, and that they’d see me tomorrow. I felt bad for vanishing without spending time with them or even meeting Bella, but there wasn’t much I could do about that now.

The house was quiet in the darkness, but I used my phone to carefully navigate - and look around. The shrine held a wedding photo of a much-younger Charlie, and the woman who was my ex-aunt; a sad memento when I knew that Uncle Charlie had been divorced for quite a long time. An off-brand recliner sat near a small, out-of-date television, the remote on top of a TV guide, with various sports matches circled in pen. Several pairs of shoes sat by the front door - my cousin was clearly a strong supporter of Converse sneakers.

The leftovers in the fridge looked kind of suspect – some luminous mac and cheese, a chicken that was nearly picked clean, and some greasy looking Chinese. I ended up slapping some peanut butter on some bread, and drinking nearly half a carton of milk, before vanishing back into my new ‘bedroom’ for some more sleep.  

Peering out of the uncovered window into the night, I could see beyond the fence line into the black of the forest. The tops of the trees cut the bottom half of the sky off perfectly, like an old-fashioned silhouette. It was strange to imagine my mother living in this kind of town, growing up here. But then, I had a hard time picturing my dad and her being married, too.

Lying back, I stared out at the night sky, the slow movement of clouds over the stars lulling me back to sleep.

[orangeoctopi7]

Stanswap AU Part 34

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15

Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20

Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25

Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Part 30

Part 31 Part 32 Part 33

Here it is, the last chapter! Special thanks to @digikate813 and @eregyrn-falls for consistently reading and reblogging, along with anyone else who ever reblogged this story, it’s because of you that this story has spread. Thanks to @blaiddraws and @hntrgurl13 for drawing fanart (even if I did commission hntrgurl13, still grateful) and of course thanks to @busket because even if our AUs were developed independently, I still took a lot of inspiration from them and their way awesome art.

Speaking of which, this chapter draws a lot of inspiration from these posts.

Chapter 34: Hero Complex

The house was still in one piece when the kids got back. There was no evidence whether the shield spell was still holding or not, but they were all just happy to find a familiar structure to hide out in. They were about to open the door when they all heard something inside. Dipper picked up a golf club that'd been sitting on the porch, Wendy pulled out her crossbow, Mabel readied her grappling hook, and Soos took a karate stance.

“Yaaaaah!” The four friends yelled as they kicked the door open.

“Yaaaaah!” A ragtag group of townsfolk and magical creatures from the woods led by Stan yelled, ready to defend their turf.

“Wait, Stan!?” Dipper and Mabel gasped when they realized who it was.

“Kids!?” Stan disengaged the weapons system in his prosthetic, “I can't believe it! I thought I'd lost you two!”

The three of them shared a happy reunion hug. Tears flowed more freely than at least two of them would care to admit. Wendy and Soos soon joined in the hug. Even if they didn't know Stan all that well, it was still nice to see a friend after everything that had happened.

“It's good to have you knuckleheads back.” Stan said as he finally broke away from the hug.

“Why… what's everyone doing here?” Dipper asked as he surveyed the room. There were Candy and Grenda, dressed like Mad Max cosplayers, and Pacifica, who was wearing a pillowcase or something, and the Multibear, who was wearing an eye-patch on his main head, along with some gnomes, a manotaur, and the boy band Sev’ral Timez.

“Welcome to the survivors’ club.” Stan shrugged.

“Whaaa?” The kids asked.

“Eyebat!!” A gnome cried before anyone could explain. Everyone in the house scrambled to put out all the lights and close all the shutters and curtains. Dipper and Mabel couldn't help but peek outside between some blinds. Sure enough, an eyebat was flapping around outside. The sweeping beam of its paralysing gaze was stopped by a shimmering pink shield the moment it looked towards the house.

“So the shield is still working!” Dipper observed.

“Grunkle Stan, how'd this happen?” Mabel asked once the eyebat passed.

“Well, after seein’ my brother turned to gold and thinkin’ Dipper here’d been eaten, I didn't know what else to do except come back here. That's when I ran into possum breath here” Stan jabbed a mechanical thumb towards McGucket, “leading a group of stragglers through the woods. They needed a place to stay, so I took 'em all in and made myself chief. Plan is to stay here and live off Ford's food storage long as we can. Then I vote we eat the gnomes.”

“Hey, I'm short, not deaf!!” Jeff protested.

“Grunkle Stan, we can't just hide out here, there's a town in need of saving!” Dipper protested.

“Look, kiddo, we’ve got a good deal here.” Stan explained. “It ain’t ideal, I know, but we’ve got everything we need in here. A lot of these guys may look like monsters, but they’re actually pretty nice. Bear-bear here even knows Shiatzu!”

“Yes, I’ve been taking some classes.” The multi-bear nodded.

“We can stay here where it’s safe as long as we need to.”

“Grunkle Stan, you don’t actually think if we wait it out long enough Bill will just go away!?” Mabel was scandalized.

“Yeah, what happened?” Dipper asked, “Before you were all about taking the fight to Bill and not waiting a second, and now you just wanna hole up inside as long as you can?”

“Look what trying to fight Bill got us!” Stan snapped, “I wasted my only shot, that shazbot took my know-it-all brother as a literal trophy, and until you kids showed up on the doorstep a moment ago, I thought you all were dead! At least in here we can live some sort of life, out there all that’s waiting for us is death or worse!”

“But… what about our families?” Soos asked quietly.

Stan didn’t have an answer for that. He just looked away, but as his eyes swept across the room, he saw almost everyone wore the same expression: worry for their loved ones. Not long before the kids had showed up, they’d picked up a broadcast on the TV from inside the Fearamid, where they saw most everyone in Gravity Falls frozen in stone and stacked into a throne for Bill.

“Guys, don’t you see?” Mabel encouraged them as she climbed to the top of the stairs where everyone could see her, “Our friends need us, but we can only save them if we fight back!”

“Mabel’s right!” Dipper joined her, “Bill wants us to run and hide. He wants us to think he’s invincible, but Ford told me before he was turned to gold he knows Bill’s secret weakness!”

“Yeah, and then his oh-so-special research Journals were destroyed.” Stan scoffed. “We got no leads kid. I spent twelve years tryin’ to fight against Bill, and never heard nothin’ about any ‘secret weakness’.”

“Then we’ll rescue him!” The boy exclaimed, “If Ford’s the only one who knows about Bill’s weakness then we’ll have to get it from him! If we all work together, we might be able to save Gravity Falls!”

Everyone cheered, except Stan, who still seemed skeptical. “And how d’you plan on doin’ that? This is the only place where we’re safe, and it’s not like we can carry the shield spell around with us.”

“W-whoa! Holey Hootenanny! Flapjacks an’ Tiddlywinks!” McGucket suddenly burst out, his knee bouncing up and down as he thumped his foot against the floor. “Sorry, sorry,” He said sheepishly as everyone stared at him. “Just got excited is all. But I got an idea hows about we can fight Bill an’ rescue Ford! But I’ll need all’a y’all’s help!”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa people, let’s not forget who’s in charge here!” Stan snorted indignantly, “I’ve been on the run from that psycho for the better part of twelve years, and now you want me to just waltz up to the guy’s front door?”

“Grunkle Stan, I’m sure we’re not gonna just walk up to the Fearamid,” Mabel assured him, “Just hear McGucket out!”

“No! There’s no way I’m leaving this house!”

Stan was not particularly happy to hear the plan involved literally taking the house to Bill. Sure, it seemed like a good idea on paper. If the only thing protecting them from Bill was attached to the house, it made sense to bring the house with them. But turning the place into a giant fighting robot!? That was just ridiculous! Nevermind the dimension he’d visited with actual fifty-foot fighting treehouse robots. He was pretty sure that was a spectator sport, and not for actual combat. Certainly not for fighting against the all-powerful ruler of the nightmare realm.

Still, as they began cutting holes in the walls and using leftover parts from the portal to build actual working giant robot arms and legs, Stan began to think this might actually work. Not that he’d ever admit that to anyone.

He’d nearly lost it when people started leaving the safety of the shield spell to try and raid more stuff they needed from outside, but so far everyone who had left for the junkyard and the amber mines had come back safely.

Now the “Shacktron”, as Soos had dubbed it after a comment on the house’s state by Pacifica, was nearly complete, and everyone was enjoying a bonfire as Mabel passed out sweaters, celebrating all they’d already accomplished and what they hoped to accomplish tomorrow.

“Uhg, I go through all this trouble to keep these survivors safe, and they’re gonna risk it all; for what? The chance that Stanford might know Bill’s weakness?” Stan complained to the only person who would listen to him, an ugly gnome who didn’t say much. “It’s a load of… of…” Stan searched his considerable vocabulary of alien swears for an appropriate phrase.

“Shmebulock!” The gnome exclaimed.

“Yeah! It’s a load of Shmebulock!” the old con man agreed. But his rage quickly died into a sigh. “It’s my own fault though. We wouldn't have to go save my brother if I hadn’t talked him into confrontin’ Bill right away in the first place. ...Bill wouldn’t even be in our dimension if my brother hadn’t opened that portal for me….”

“Grunkle Stan, is something wrong?” Mabel asked as she and Dipper suddenly walked into his field of vision. Stan jumped. He was losing his touch in his old age, he hadn’t even noticed they were there.

“Wh-bu-pft-I’m not-- I’m fine!” He spluttered. “How long have you kids been standin’ there listenin’ to me mouth off?”

“We just saw you acting grumpier than usual and wanted to make sure everything’s ok.” Mabel shrugged.

“It’s this plan to save my stupid brother!” Stan harrumphed. “I’ve been working hard to keep everybody safe, and what thanks do I get? Nothin’! But maybe he knows somethin’ about stoppin’ Bill, and suddenly everybody’s ready to risk their lives to save him. No matter what I do, it’s always ‘Stan’s the screw-up, Ford’s the hero’.”

Dipper frowned. He’d heard what Stan was saying to Shmebulock before. “Grunkle Stan, you’re not a screw up. This isn’t your fault any more than it is Mabel’s. Bill tricked you, because that’s what he does! Of course you wanted to come home! Of course you wanted to try anything to stop Bill as quickly as possible! And yeah, things went wrong, but that doesn’t mean you should hide away and beat yourself up for it! We have a chance to fix things now, and yeah, it’s risky, but at least there’s a chance that we’ll be able to save the world, instead of just accepting that this is the way things are now!”

“Yeah!” Mabel agreed, “Besides, you love risk!”

Stan gave a fond sigh and hugged the two of them. “Heh, alright, you kids’ve convinced me. I’ll get on board with Project: Long Odds. Whatever you want me to do, just ask.”

“Yes!” Mabel cheered, “Trust me, guys, tomorrow's gonna be great! We’ll save Grunkle Ford, and then you won’t have to worry about him anymore!”

“What, tch, I’m… I’m not worried about him!” Stan protested, crossing his arms and looking away. “I only care about finding a way to stop Bill, and that know-it-all is our best bet.”

Mabel and Dipper rolled their eyes. “Sure, Grunkle Stan.”

He couldn’t think. He couldn’t feel anything beyond the pain jolting through him. He couldn’t see anything beyond the burning blue light blinding him. He couldn’t hear anything beyond the ragged screaming that he no longer recognized as his own. He couldn’t smell anything beyond the crackling ozone. He couldn’t taste anything beyond the metallic tang that he didn’t have the presence of mind to realize was probably his own blood. This was his world. He knew nothing else.

Then, mercifully, it stopped, and his brain started ticking again. His thoughts and feelings slowly trickled back. He was Stanford Pines, the last one standing between Bill Cipher and destroying the rest of the universe outside of Gravity Falls. He couldn’t break. He couldn’t tell Bill what he wanted to know. He couldn’t let the demon into his mind. He could feel the manacles digging into his skin. He could see Bill and his cronies standing over him like a gang of school yard bullies. He could hear his own labored breathing and the snickering of the Henchmaniacs. He still couldn’t smell much other than ozone, but at least now he knew he was tasting his own blood. It wasn’t nearly as much as he’d expected.

“READY TO TALK NOW?” Bill asked in a bored tone.

“I-I won’t…” Ford rasped. “...I won’t… let you into my mind!”

“WHADDAYA SAY, PALS, ANOTHER 500 VOLTS?” Bill asked his audience. The Henchmaniacs laughed and cheered. Bill was winding up for another blast of electricity when they all heard a thumping noise coming from outside the Fearamid. It grew louder and louder, until… crash! A theropod head burst through the wall and roared.

“WHAT!? I JUST FIXED THAT DOOR!” Bill whined.

Ford squinted to see what was outside the Fearamid. His glasses were so dirtied with soot he wondered briefly if he might see better without them. Was that… was that his house!?

“It’s the Shacktron, dudes!” he more heard than saw Soos cheer. Oh no, what was Soos doing here!? Didn’t he realize the danger? And who else had he brought with him? Ford could only imagine what Bill would do if the triangle managed to nab all his loved ones at once.

“SO THE MORTALS ARE TRYING TO FIGHT BACK, HUH? ADORABLE!” Bill gave a cruel chuckle. “HENCHMANIACS, YOU KNOW WHAT TO DO! TAKE ‘EM OUT!”

It was hard for Ford to see what was going on from his vantage point, but he couldn’t look away. The more he watched, the more anxious he became. He could see Wendy leaping onto an eyebat, he could hear Fiddleford’s distinctive voice calling out commands, and Mabel and Dipper’s cheer after punching out Paci-Fire and Kryptos. He even caught a glimpse of Stan through a window when the Shacktron came near enough to the hole in the Fearamid. But as things went on, his fear was mixed with pride. They were holding their own! Better than holding their own, they were winning! Soon enough all of Bill’s minions were sprawled across the ground, groaning in pain.

“SERIOUSLY GUYS? YOU HAD LIKE ONE JOB!” Bill groaned.

“Bravo, everyone!” Ford cheered defiantly.

Bill sneered at him. “YEAH, ENJOY YOUR LITTLE VICTORY NOW, WISE-GUY. YOU DO REALIZE I’M GONNA GO GRAB YOUR LITTLE FAMILY AND MAKE YOU WATCH ME TORTURE EACH AND EVERY ONE OF THEM UNTIL YOU TELL ME HOW TO REVERSE THE WEIRDNESS MAGNETISM, RIGHT?”

Ford’s heart fell. “No, no you ca--” Bill re-froze him mid-sentence.

“HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU, SIXER? I CAN DO ANYTHING!”

He didn’t know how long it had been when he was unfrozen. All he knew was suddenly half the town was there, freed from their stony prison, and Bill was still outside fighting the Shacktron. Mabel and Dipper were standing in front of him with identical hopeful grins.

“Kids!” Ford knelt down and hugged them both tightly, “I knew you could do it! That was brilliant!” He caught sight of McGucket just off to the side, apparently trying not to interrupt a family moment. “Fiddleford! Thank you, old friend, I know they couldn't have done it without you.”

“Aw shucks, I'm jus’ glad yer ok.” McGucket smiled as the two old scientists hugged.

“Yeah, nice to see you too, bro.” Stan grunted from behind them.

“Grunkle Ford,” Dipper piped up, “before, you said something about one other possible way to beat Bill. What was it?”

“Yeah, what's Bill's secret weakness?” Mabel asked.

“Oh, right!” The old researcher remembered, and reached for something in his pocket. But be paused mid-motion, looking around the room. “Back when I first learned about Bill, there was a prophecy painted on the cave wall as well.” Ford observed all the people standing around him, and suddenly the puzzle that had eluded him for years finally clicked into place. “Robbie, do you still carry spray paint around with you?”

“Uh… yeah. Why?” the teen asked.

“You'll see.” Ford assured him, grabbing the paint canister and quickly spraying a large circle on the floor.

“Uh, Bill's just outside, I don't know how long the others can hold him off.” Dippy pointed out.

“Yes, yes, good.” Ford murmured in reply, concentrating too hard on whatever he was painting on the floor to really pay attention to what the boy was saying.

“Well, he's finally lost it.” Stan said flatly.

“Like he didn't lose it forever ago?” Wendy asked.

“I'm perfectly sane.” Ford corrected. “And this is how we'll beat him.” He gestured to the finished image: a circle of ten symbols surrounding a simple sketch of Bill Cipher.

“With the world's most confusing game of hopscotch?” Pacifica asked incredulously.

“No… although it would make a pretty fun game of hopscotch.” Ford admitted. “This is what I found painted on the cave wall. Some of the symbols I recognized then, some of them I only recognize now, but the very first people to settle in Gravity Falls, long before any European immigrants, prophesied that these symbols together could generate a force powerful enough to defeat Bill and reverse his weirdnesses. Until now, I thought it was just superstition, but now that I see the ten symbols here in real life, I know that can't be a coincidence.”

“What do you mean?” Dipper asked, “You had this drawn in the Journals and it didn't do anything. Bill still destroyed them!”

Ford smiled and shook his head. “The symbols themselves aren't what's special. They represent people! Dipper: the pine tree. Mabel: the shooting star.”

Dipper's eyes widened as he stood on the corresponding symbol.

“Oh my gosh!” Mabel gasped reverently as she took her place.

“A question mark! This one's unsolvable!” Soos observed, completely forgetting the coin block on the Mario shirt he was wearing.

“And I knew I'd seen that broken heart on your hoodie somewhere before!” Ford said to Robbie.

“Dang man, you've been wearing that thing since the fourth grade!” Wendy pushed her friend forward.

“Whoa, destiny hoodie!” The teen said in awe.

“As well as the star from the Tent-o-Telepathy.” Ford pointed to Gideon, who was standing at the back of the crowd.

“Oooh, don't mind if I do!” The boy took his spot next to Mabel.

“Don't make a big deal about this.” Mabel warned him.

“O-of course not!” Gideon flushed, then chanted under his breath, “Be a person worthy of loving, be a person worthy of loving…”

“And Pacifica: the llama.” Ford pointed to her.

“... This is freaky.” The spoiled girl muttered as she looked between the sweater Mabel had lent her and the symbol on the floor.

“Ok, so some of the symbols are really obvious. But what about the ice? Or the glasses?” Dipper asked.

“They're not all litteral.” Ford explained, “The ice should be someone who's cool under pressure.” The two of them looked over at Wendy. They couldn't think of anyone else in the crowd who fit the criteria, and come to think of it, hadn't Dipped spilt bag after bag of ice around Wendy all summer?

“And the glasses should be someone wise and scholarly.”

McGucket smiled sheepishly and stepped forward. “I dunno 'bout wise…”

“And Stanley, you're the fish.. thing. Whatever that thing on the end of your staff is.”

“You gotta be kidding me!” Stan rolled his eyes. “You realize this is a buncha hogwash, right? You really think a bunch of randos standin’ in a circle an’ singin’ kumbaya is gonna stop that monster!?”

“It's a mystical human energy circuit!” Ford defended.

“You said you thought it was superstition until you saw all these people together!” Stan retorted. “This isn't what you were talkin’ about before, is it?”

“...No.” Ford admitted, “But that doesn't matter now, this will work!”

“How do you know? Just 'cuz some dead guys drew it on a wall!?”

“Come on Stan! I gave your idea with the quantum destabilizer a chance, the least you can do is give this a shot!” Ford yelled indignantly.

“Don't yell at me!” Stan yelled back.

“Come on!” Wendy groaned.

“Dang it, old men, now's not the time!” Gideon exclaimed.

“Alright, fine!” Stan relented and joined the circle. “I'm not the enemy here, people!”

“Everyone else get out of here, this may be dangerous…. Now all of you hold hands!” Ford commanded.

“Oh gee, I'd love to.” Stan said sarcastically, “Except there's the little problem of I haven't got one!”

Ford gritted his teeth. “You know what I meant! Just  give me your arm… stump… whatever you call it.”

“I wouldn't have it if you hadn't abandoned me, you big jerk!” Stan turned on him.

“Really!? Now of all times you bring that up!? Why do you always have to make everything more difficult than it has to be!? Why can't you ever just do as you're told!?”

“What makes you think you can tell me what to do!?”

The elder twins’ argument just devolved into fistfighting from there. Everyone watched in slack-jawed horror. Everyone except Mabel and Dipper, that is, who were desperately trying to pull their Grunkle apart. But it was too late.

“OH NO, IT'S BILL! ...THAT'S WHAT YOU'RE ALL THINKING, RIGHT?”

Bill was back.

“HAHAHAHAH! THIS IS JUST TOO GOOD! DON'T YOU BRAINIACS KNOW THE ZODIAC DOESN'T WORK IF ALL OF YOU DON'T HOLD HANDS? THANKS FOR BRINGING EVERY THREAT TO MY POWER INTO ONE EASY-TO-DESTROY PLACE THOUGH!” the demonic triangle snapped his fingers and the painting on the ground burned away, catching a few people on fire in the process. He then reached out and grabbed the elder Pines twins. “YOU GUYS WANNA SEE WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU CAN'T GET ALONG?”

“Oh no!” Dipper cried.

“You give them back!” McGucket demanded.

“You've gone too far, Cipher!” Gideon shouted.

“Yeah, we're not scared of you!” Wendy growled, raising her ax threateningly.

“OH… BUT YOU SHOULD BE.” the triangle grew another arm and snapped his finger. Dipper and Mabel watched in horror as everyone around them floated up into the air and was turned into a tapestry, each one depicting its victim in the middle of a wide-eyed scream. “LOOKS LIKE IT'S TOO LATE FOR YOUR FRIENDS, STANFORD, BUT YOU CAN STILL SAVE YOUR FAMILY!” A glowing blue cage rose up out of the ground, trapping the kids. “LAST CHANCE: TELL ME HOW TO TAKE WEIRDMAGEDDON GLOBAL AND I'LL SPARE THE KIDS.”

“No, don't do it!” Dipper cried from inside the pyramidal cage.

“Yeah, Bill makes bad deals!” Mabel agreed.

Bill leered down at her. “DON'T YOU TOY WITH ME SHOOTING STAR! I SEE EVERYTH--”

Mabel grabbed Robbie's spray paint and sprayed him in his giant eye.

“AUGH! NOT AGAIN! WHY THE EYE!? EVERY TIME!”

“I know that hurts, because I've done it to myself!” Mabel crowed.

Dipper quickly pulled out the flashlight with the size-changing crystal attached to the top and grew the cage until they could squeeze between the bars.

“We'll distract him, you guys run for it!” The boy cried to his Grunkles.

“What!? That's a suicide mission!” Ford protested.

“Don't worry! We've beaten him once.” Dipper reassured them.

“And we'll do it again!” Mabel finished. “Hey, you pointy jerk, come and get us!”

Bill finally got the paint out of his eye. He growled and chased after the kids. Stan and Ford were about to run after them too, but a blue wall of contorted bars blocked their path.

“NOT SO FAST! YOU TWO STAY HERE. I'VE GOT SOME CHILDREN I NEED TO TURN INTO CORPSES.”

The brothers found themselves in a cage identical to the one the kids had just been in. Only they had no means of escape. All they could do was bang on the bars and yell after them to stop. But their pleas fell on deaf ears.

“I can't believe this!” Stan sunk to the ground. “The kids are gonna die, and it's all my fault! All because I wouldn't just link arms with you!”

“Don't blame yourself. I'm the one who made a deal with Bill on the first place.” Ford said sadly.

“Yeah, but I'm the one who got you captured.” Stan lamented, “Dipper went back an’ tried to help you, but I… I just ran. Ugh, dad was right about me, I'm a screw-up.”

“No.” Ford knelt down next to his brother. “That's not true. You never made a deal with Bill, not in all those years he tried to convince you. If anybody's a screw-up, it's me. If I didn't drive away everyone close to me, things would have been solved years ago. I'm sorry I always made you second priority.”

Stan barked a sound halfway between a chuckle and a sob. “How'd things get so messed up between us?”

“We used to be like Dipper and Mabel.” Ford smiled fondly. “The world's about to end, and they still work together.”

“They're working together because the world is ending. That and they're too young to know any better.” Stan observed.

Ford shifted and pulled a strange object out of his pocket. It took a second for Stan to recognize it as the memory eraser from his first day back home.

“What're you gonna do with that?” The old con man asked.

“This is the one last possibility to defeat Bill I was talking about before.” Ford said gravely.

Stan's face lit up as he began to realize his brother's plan. “You mean we could just erase him outta your head the second he goes in there!?”

“Yes… but there's more to it than that.”

Stan didn't like the look Ford was giving him. He looked like a doctor about to tell their patient they had cancer. “Ok, what's the catch?”

“Bill isn't a static memory. He won't just let himself be erased, he'll hide in some remote corner of the mindscape. Unless you were to erase everything.”

Stan's expression sobered immediately. That explained why Ford had been so desperate to try anything else to stop Bill.

“What!? Are you kidding me!? You're honestly telling me there's nothing else we can do?”

“Believe me, if there was another way, I'd do it in a second. We're out of options, Stanley! The only alternative would be to actually give myself up to Bill and hope he'll let you and the kids go.”

Stan snorted. “Like he'd make good on that deal.”

“Exactly.” Ford agreed. “So, we agree on what needs to be done?”

Stan's reply was to wrap his arms around his brother and bury his face into his shoulder. “You and your snarfin hero complex! D’Arvit Ford, I don't wanna lose you again!”

“... Neither do I.” Ford returned the hug. “Don't think of it as losing me. I'll still be around. I'll still be me. I just won't…”

“Won't remember anything about me. Or anyone. Or anything.” Stan finished.

“Y-you might be able to remind me.” Ford encouraged him, “Fiddleford has been regaining his memories after they were erased.”

Stan sniffed inelegantly, failing to hide his crying, but he nodded.

They didn't have long to recompose themselves before they heard the kids’ screams, signalling Bill's return.

“ALRIGHT FORDSY, I'M BACK, AND I'VE GOT THE KIDS! MAYBE I'LL KILL ONE OF 'EM, JUST FOR THE FUN OF IT. EENY MEENY MINEY--”

“Stop!” Ford cried. “I'll tell you! Just let the kids and my brother go, please!”

“THAT'S MORE LIKE IT.” Bill said smugly.

The cage holding them dissolved away and a glowing red arm shot out of the ground, wrapping itself tight around Stan.

“No, Grunkle Ford, don't trust him!” Dipper pleaded.

“It's the only way.” Ford smiled sadly. “I-I love you all. Always remember that.”

“CUT THE SAP, SIXER. DO WE HAVE A DEAL OR NOT?”

Ford's only response was to extend his hand. Bill grabbed it, and blue flames enshrouded them both. Bill's physical form turned to stone as his mental projection jumped straight into the old scientist's head.

“FINALLY!” Bill crowed when he found himself in Stanford’s mindscape. The mental manifestation of the old man was standing there coldly. The light was reflecting off his glasses, making it impossible to see his eyes. Which didn't make sense because there wasn't actually any light. Which meant Ford was looking like that on purpose. The drama queen. “I TOLD YOU I'D FIND YOUR WEAKNESS!”

Ford did his best to ignore the mocking. He held up a book that looked just like one of the Journals. “Here it is, Bill, everything I know about weirdness magnetism.”

“AHAHAHAHAH, FINALLY!” Bill chortled, taking the book eagerly. “YES! NOW I CAN--” the book abruptly caught fire. “WHOAH- HEY!” The triangle could only watch as blue flames rapidly ate away every last page. “WHAT DID YOU--!?”

“It's gone.” Ford said evenly, a cruel grin spreading across his face. The light reflecting off his glasses disappeared, revealing a triumphant glare. “It's all gone!”

“YOU IDIOT, DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT YOU'VE DONE!?” Bill steamed, “I'LL MAKE YOU PAY FOR THIS!!”

“On the contrary, Bill,” The scientist said calmly as the entire mindscape around them went up in blue flames, “You're the one who's finally going to pay.”

Bill's eye grew wide as he realized the extent of what was happening.

“GRAH! THE DEAL’S OFF!” He growled, but as he tried to wave his arm and create an exit, nothing happened. If anything the flames rose higher. “WHAT THE-- NO! NO NO NO NO!

“YOU FOOL!” Bill raged, “”YOU'LL DESTROY YOUR OWN MIND TOO!”

“Gladly.” Ford said emphatically. “If it means you'll never do to another living thing what you did to me.”

“YOU'RE MAKING A MISTAKE, STANFORD!” Bill said desperately, “I-I’LL GIVE YOU ANYTHING YOU WANT! MONEY, FAME, RICHES, INFINITE POWER, YOUR OWN GALAXY! JUST--PLEASE!”

“Whatever I want?” Ford echoed fiercely. “What I want is to watch you burn to nothing!” He finally lost his cool and roughly grabbed Bill by his stupid bowtie. “You pretended to be my friend, only to use me and manipulate me!” He wound up and punched the triangle. “You got me to drive my only true friend away!” Another punch. “You took control of my body and used it as a play thing!” And another. “You blackmailed me!” And again. “You tortured me!” Another. “And even worse than what you did to me, you messed with my family!” He wound up one more time and punched Bill right in the eye, harder than he'd ever punched anything before. The demonic triangle gave one last strangled cry in a language Ford didn't recognize, and shattered into a million pieces.

“...It is done.” Stanford said with finality. But… it didn't feel right. He'd been fantasizing about defeating Bill for years now, and he'd finally done it! He was the hero! He'd killed the demon, been able to beat him down with his own hands, and yet… this victory felt hollow. Was it because he was losing his own mind in the process? No… he'd always been prepared to sacrifice himself in order to pay for his mistakes.

As everything burned blue around him, the last thing he found left was a familiar tattered photo of two boys standing proudly atop a rotting shipwreck. Ford realized he didn't regret what he was losing, but what his family would be losing. And even more, what he never was for them.

“I'm sorry.” He murmured as the flames licked at his feet.

Stanley found his brother kneeling in a clearing in the woods not long after all of Bill's Weirdmageddon crap cleared up. Ford was still completely out of it. His eyes were unfocused and his mouth hung open.

“Grunkle Ford that was amazing!” Dipper exclaimed, running up and hugging him. Ford jumped at the contact, surprised and maybe even a little uncomfortable with the boy in his personal space.

“Uh, sorry, are you talking to me?” The old man asked in confusion.

The boy's face fell as he pieced together what happened. “You… you don't remember me…”

“No. Should I?”

“Yes!” Mabel cried, “We're your family!”

Ford just looked at them all blankly.

“It's ok, kids.” Stan tried to reassure them, “W-we just gotta remind him, y’know?” he sat down in front of his brother and looked him in the eye. “I-I’m Stanley. I'm your brother.”

Ford was too fascinated with Stan's arm to pay attention to his words. “Your arm, it's metal!” He observed with an eager smile, “that's not normal, is it? What's it made of? How do you get it to move like that?”

Stan’s eyes welled up with tears. “C-c’mon, Ford, it's m-me, it's Stan… I'm remindin’ you, j-just like you told me to… please Ford, it-it’s me, it's Stan!” He finally broke down crying in to his brother's shoulder. “Why d’you always gotta be the hero!? Y-you jerk! W-we never got t-to make thing right.…”

Ford looked at the two children for help. “What did I say?”

They brought Ford back to the wrecked remains of his house, picking up Soos and filling him in on what had happened on the way. The young mechanic was devastated, and he joined with the others in trying to jog Stanford’s memory. They had many opportunities to try. It seemed every step along the way Ford had another question.

“Did you see that little man in the red hat run into the bushes? What was that?”

“It’s a gnome.” Dipper explained patiently, although there was a pained undertone in his voice, “You used to study them.”

“Why do they wear those little red hats?” Ford wondered, “Are they hiding something under them?”

“I-I don’t know.” Dipper admitted, but it didn’t seem to bother Ford. If anything he seemed more excited, and he made to run off after the gnome.

“Wait! Don’t run off without us!” Mabel grabbed his hand.

This stopped him, but only because he’d suddenly become more interested in the small hands holding his own. He looked around at everyone and an expression spread across his face like he’d just found the greatest puzzle of all time.

“Wait a second, I just noticed something!” He held up Mabel’s hand and compared it to his own. “I’ve got more fingers than all of you! Isn’t that interesting? I wonder why it’s like that?”

“You were born that way.” Stan told him.

“Yes, but why?” Ford asked again. Nobody had an answer for him, which only served to make him more curious.

Stan heaved a heavy sigh. “C’mon Ford, we gotta get home. We’re all tired, you must be too.”

“I’m not tired!” The old man insisted like he was a four-year-old, “I wanna explore!”

Stan looked like he was on the verge of losing his composure again, so Mabel stepped in. “Grunkle Ford, if you come home with us, I’ll show you my scrapbook, and we can teach you everything we learned about all the weird things in Gravity Falls this summer.

“Really?” Ford asked, like she’d just promised to watch his favorite movie with him. She nodded. “Come on, let’s go!” He pulled her ahead toward the dilapidated house.

Dipper had to knock the door in, and despite the building being surprisingly still structurally sound, the place was trashed. Ford didn’t seem to notice; he took the state of the house as normal, and only seemed curious with the books and papers strewn across the floor. Everyone else was in low spirits. For all the questions they were answering and all their attempts to remind Ford of who he was, nothing seemed to be working.

“We saved the world, but what’s the point?” Dipper wondered forlornly, “Grunkle Ford’s not himself anymore.”

“I don’t get it.” Stan sat down and held his head in his hands, “Before, he said we’d be able to remind him…. Well, he said we might be able to remind him. Ugh, I should’ve known he was just sayin’ that to make me feel better. I should’ve known better than to get my hopes up!” He punched the wall with his mechanical arm and left a sizable hole.

“No!” Mabel said emphatically, “I know my Grunkle is still in there! We can’t give up, guys!” She found her scrapbook lying under the entertainment center, and sat Ford down next to her on the old couch. “This’ll work. This has to work!” She opened up to the first page and showed him a picture of the three of them at the bus-stop, not long after they’d arrived in Gravity Falls.

“Here’s a picture of the first day we came to Gravity Falls!” Mabel narrated, “and here’s a macaroni art interpretation of my emotions!” She pointed to a macaroni collage of an unsure smile and a question mark.

“What about that time we went to the lake our first weekend here?” Dipper asked as his sister turned the page again and revealed a two-page spread of photos from their picnic. “Or all those times we’ve played Dungeons Dungeons and More Dungeons together?” He asked on another page.

“Uh, these are all very nice photos, but weren’t you going to teach my what you learned about the weird things in Gravity Falls?” Ford asked innocently.

“They’re photos of you, Dr. Pines!” Soos cried.

“I can see that, but I don’t remember any of this, or any of you!”

That was enough to break Stan down again. The old con man got up abruptly and retreated to the other side of the room.

Ford got up and followed him. “What’s wrong? Why do you keep on crying like that?”

Stan just shook his head and turned away, unable to speak through his sobbing.

“Is it because of me?” Ford asked worriedly, “Is it my fault?”

Stan shook his head again, but Ford seemed to know instinctively that he was lying. “I’m sorry. I’m not sure what for, but…” He trailed off and his expression became thoughtful. “I’m sorry…” he repeated softly. He reached out and hugged Stan awkwardly.

Waddles entered the room, drawn by the sound of crying. The pig found two sad men standing in the corner, hugging. On of them was the source of the crying. The pig tried to comfort them the only way he knew how: snorting in between their feet.

“Waddles, do you mind, we’re having a moment here!” Ford pushed the pig away gently with his foot.

Everyone gasped and stared at the old researcher, a new hopeful glint in their eyes.

“W-what? What did I say?” Ford asked nervously, uncomfortable with all the attention.

“It’s working!” Dipper said excitedly, “keep reading!”

“Skip to my page!” Soos insisted, “He needs to remember being the greatest teacher ever!”

“I think you and Wendy are the only two who would ever call me that.” Ford chuckled.

And so they continued to look through Mabel’s scrapbook. Every few pages, Ford remembered more and more about being a teacher, a great-uncle, a researcher, and even a brother. Once they finished with the scrapbook, Stanley swept the house and found some ancient film-reels: Home videos from the elder twins’ childhood. Everyone couldn’t believe their luck. Perhaps this story could have a happy ending after all.

It was one week later, and Stanford Pines felt like a new man. His memories were more-or-less all back now. Sure, he still had some hazy moments when someone would mention something like he was supposed to know what they were talking about, and he’d have to ask for clarification, but the most important things were all back. He knew his family and his best friend and his students and all the strange, wonderful, occasionally annoying people in Gravity Falls.

Of course, with the return of his good memories came the return of the bad. Just last night he’d had another nightmare about Weirdmageddon. But it was easier to shake off these bad dreams now that he knew Bill was well and truly gone. He’d also had a heart-to-heart with Stanley about some of the darker moments in their past, but he felt so much better now that they had.

Now it was time for the kids’ birthday party, and pretty much the whole town, human and supernatural, had shown up. Mabel and Dipper were giving some short speeches after blowing out the candles.

“Y’know, on my first day here, if you’d asked me what I wanted, I would have said ‘Adventure, mystery, true friends’, but looking out at all of you, I realize that every one of those wishes came true. I’m happy with what I have.”

“If I had one wish, it would be to shrink you all down with the shrink-ray and bring you all home with me in my pocket. But since that’s impossible--” She paused and looked up at Ford, “Is that impossible?”

He shrugged and made a so-so gesture. It was technically possible but really not a good idea. People would probably get squashed or suffocate.

“--Since that’s probably impossible, my only wish is for all of you to sign my scrapbook! I’ll never forget you all!” She paused again, pulled out the memory eraser, and smashed it under her foot. Ford couldn’t believe how relieved that made him feel. “Now I’ll never forget you all!”

As the kids joked around with Wendy and her friends about technically being teens now, Stan pulled Ford away from the crowd around a corner of the house.

“Hey, I wanted to talk to you in private.”

“Why, what’s wrong?” Ford asked in concern.

“Nothin’, just wanted to let you know I’ve made up my mind.”

“About what?”

“About leavin’ after the kids head home. I’m probably gonna start packin’ once this party business is over.”

“What!?” Ford cried incredulously,

“Yeah, see, this I why I wanted to talk to you about it in private.” Stan rolled his eyes.

“But… but I thought…” the old researcher stammered, “We’ve been making progress Stanley! I truly believed things between us were on the mend!” He sighed heavily and regained his composure, “But… if that’s what you feel is best, I won’t try and force you to stay.”

“Uh, thanks…” Stan said awkwardly.

“...where will you go?”

Stan shrugged. “Thinkin’ about gettin’ a ship, sailin’ in search of treasure.”

“Just… just like we always dreamed about. I… I’m happy for you, Stan.” Ford said, sounding the exact opposite of happy.

“Y’know…” Stan scratched the back of his head with his good arm and gestured with his mechanical one. “If I’m gonna hit the high seas, I’m gonna need someone who knows how to take care of this robot arm along for the ride. I’m still gettin’ the hang of it.”

“Y-you mean… you want me to come!?” Ford asked hopefully.

“No I mean McGucket.” Stan said flatly, rolling his eyes again. “Of course I want you to come, genius!”

Ford gaped at his brother for a moment before shoving him playfully, “You’re the worst!”

“I’m the worst!? You’re the worst for making me feel like a rakkpod for jokin’ with you! Why d’you gotta be so sincere?”

The two brothers re-entered the party, their arms around each other’s shoulder.

“If I could have everyone’s attention!” Ford shouted. “I’d like to officially announce my retirement!” He declared once the crowd had died down, “My brother and I have some catching up to do, so we’re leaving on a voyage, and probably won’t be back for quite some time.”

“Woohoo!” One of the teens cheered, “No physics class this year!”

“B-but what about the repair shop?” Soos stammered. “What about preparing young minds to be the scientists of tomorrow?”

“I’m sorry, Soos, but I only ever started teaching and running the repair shop so I would have a steady income while I was working on the portal. Now that Stan and I are together again… I don’t really have any reason to keep it up.”

Soos looked defeated.

“But school starts in two weeks and we’ll need a physics teacher!” A member of the school board complained.

Ford looked at Soos knowingly. “I think I know someone who could take my place.”

“Wh-me?” Soos asked incredulously. “I haven’t even got my degree yet!”

“You should be able to get an emergency teaching licensure.” Ford reasoned. “That’s how I got hired on full-time.”

“But-but you’ve got a doctorate.” Soos protested.

“Soos, you’re much better with people, and especially teens, than I ever was. And you know more than enough to teach high school. I think you’re the perfect man for the job.”

“We’ll see what the school district has to say about that.” The school board member called from the crowd.

A small group of friends and family gathered at the bus stop the next day in the early afternoon. Mabel and Dipper were all packed up and ready to go. Well, as ready as they’d ever be.

“Thanks for wearing my goodbye sweaters.” Mabel complimented her Grunkles. The elder twins were decked out in matching sweaters: Ford’s a deep blue, Stan’s maroon.

“Eh, it’s cold out, I had to.” Stan grunted.

“It’s over eighty degrees out here, Stanley.” Ford teased him. Stan responded by elbowing him playfully.

Dipper and Wendy said their goodbyes and switched hats just before the bus arrived, the ginger teen slipping him a letter as he walked away.

“Looks like we’ve said goodbye to everybody, except…” Mabel looked back at her pig sadly, “Waddles.” She got down on her knees and petted him sadly. “I don’t know how to explain this to you but… Mom and Dad won’t let be bring a pig home to California, so… you have to stay here!”

She got up to leave, but the pig playfully nipped at her skirt. The girl tried to push him away, tears streaming down her face.

Ford frowned. “Mabel, I think you should take him home with you.”

“But--”

“You’re parents will be surprised to find how easy a pet pig is to take care of. Pigs are actually very clean, certainly cleaner than that cat you have, and they don’t need that much space. I’m sure they’d be happy to have another pet! And if not, well, you can tell them it was my idea.”

“Are you sure?” Dipper asked warily, “Mom was pretty mad when she found out you’d offered to let us stay here without asking her first.”

“I’ll take my chances.” The old man assured them.

“Now hold on!” The bus driver protested, “Bringing unauthorized animals aboard a moving vehicle is strictly prohibited!”

Ford not so subtly pulled out his crossbow, and Stan charged up the blaster in his arm.

“Uh… but this, heh, is obviously a service animal, so it’s ok!” The driver chuckled nervously.

The kids gave one last goodbye hug to Stan, and then to Ford.

“I hope you know I’m not exaggerating when I say you two have changed my life.” The old researcher said fondly. “I… I don’t know how I could ever thank you enough…”

“We love you too, Grunkle Ford.” Mabel sniffed back a few tears.

Finally, they’d run out of ways to stall. It was time for the kids to get on that bus.

“Ready to head into the unknown?” Dipper asked.

“Nope.” Mabel said honestly. “Let’s do it anyway!”

Ford and the others ran along the road, waving goodbye until the bus rounded the corner and drove out of sight. The old researcher felt like a piece of his heart was leaving with them. It must have shown on his face, because just a second later, he felt Stan patting him on the shoulder.

“Yeah, I’m gonna miss ‘em too.” the old con man said sincerely, “But hey, it’s not like we’re never gonna see ‘em again, right?”

Ford smiled. This pain in his heart was nothing compared to the joy of having his brother back. “You’re right.”

“Heh, somebody stop the presses.” Stan chuckled. “Now come on Sixer, we’ve got an adventure of our own to start!”

[brokestminimalist]

Minimal Clothes

Ah, clothes are tough. Clothes are one way that we express ourselves, and many of us are sentimentally attached to this t-shirt that we got at that concert, or maybe that hat that we were wearing on our first date. Friends, neighbors, have a seat.  There is a solution!

Here at Brokest Minimalist, we like to be reasonable.  That dress from your senior prom, the one you're never going to fit in again but you can't get rid of because it brings you so many fond memories?  It's ok.  We've been there.  In fact, we're still there.  We have a jersey from senior year and a dress we wore to graduation.  We are thirty pounds too heavy for that dress, but sometimes we come across it in the closet and it makes us smile.  And that's ok.   As long as you aren't keeping everything you ever wore, you're going to be ok.  

That being said, most of us could stand to throw out about half our wardrobe.  We all know you don't wear everything that's in your closet.  People tend to wear the same five or ten items over and over again.  The ones that are comfortable, the ones that are cut just right, the ones that match easily with other items.  So, the end game is to find yourself with a closet containing only those items that you wear over and over again, and donate the rest.  Now, you may have your own method of culling unused clothes.  If so, go ahead and hop to it.  If not, here are a few methods to start out with:

Audit damages:  If it's holey, if it's faded, if it's stained, toss it.  Don't donate it, nobody wants your ratty old Led Zeppelin shirt with the permanent mustard stain.  Put it in the trash.  This one should be easy.

Audit sizes:  If it doesn't fit, donate it.  Don't keep your old skinny jeans just in case you lose that twenty pounds you've been meaning to lose.  They haven't motivated you to do it so far, and it's more likely that anytime you come across them you just feel bad about yourself.  So go through everything and if you can't wear it comfortably right now, today, then donate it to your charity of choice.

Audit colors:  You know you've got that one really loud orange t-shirt that you can't bring yourself to wear, but there's nothing actually wrong with it so you can't throw it out.  Yeah, it's there.  We see it.  Put it in your donation bag, along with anything else that's too obnoxious.

Audit fabrics:  Got any stuff that’s tricky to wash, picks up too much dog hair, or unravels easily?  For the sake of your sanity, toss it.  Stick to sturdy cottons and polyesters, and get rid of anything that needs special treatment unless it’s an item you really, truly love.

Audit unwanted gifts:  You know that Weasly sweater that great-aunt Edna got you six Christmases ago that you wore one time to make her think you liked it?  Toss it.  You know that headband you've got from your old work that they gave you for free at a Halloween party?  The one with the company logo emblazoned right there on the forehead?  Toss it.  

By this point, you should be down to a much more reasonable number of items, and they should all be items that you can and are willing to wear comfortably. Everything is in your size, in good repair, and it isn't ugly/obnoxious.   This has been a lot of work, so if you want to take a break at this point, go ahead.  Wait a few days or weeks, even. There is no reason not to work in stages.  Getting rid of things can be cathartic, but it can be stressful too.  Don't use up all your spoons for today on this.  Go have a snack and finish your day.  This post will still be here when you get back.

♫ INTERMISSION ♫

Ok, so you're back. What we want to do from here is create a capsule wardrobe.  A capsule wardrobe is a wardrobe consisting of a relatively few items, where everything matches.  You can pull out any top and any pants, and put them on, and you will look put together.  You can get dressed while blindfolded, and you will look put together.  This wardrobe may consist of say, 6 pants, 10 tops, three pairs of shoes, a couple of sweaters, and some accessories like shoes, belts, scarves, etc.

So, step one here is to choose a base color.  A neutral one, like black, navy or khaki. Not one of each, but all the same. That's what color your pants and/or skirts and shoes are going to be, with the exception of maybe one pair of jeans. (Practical minimalism, remember.  You don't want to mow grass in black dress pants.)  Next, pick some tops in complimentary colors.  These can be different colors, but they have to pair nicely with all of the pants/skirts/shoes.  Then choose accessories in corresponding colors, or in the base color.

Now, we know you're broke.  So are we.  Don't just run off and spend money on new clothes all willy-nilly.  This can be a gradual process.  As the clothes you have wear out, replace them with ones in the capsule scheme you have picked out.  Eventually you will have yourself a collection of items that all work together nicely.  And they don't have to be fancy pieces.  For example, we currently have two pairs of black cargo pants, two pairs of black dress pants (worn to work most days) and one pair of blue jeans.  We have a number of well-maintained t-shirts, mostly in blues, two t-shirts from our current work, and two polo-shirts for work.  We also have two cozy hoodies for lounging around the house, and a few thermals.

The work shirts are of course reserved for work days, but otherwise any of those items can be mixed and matched.  The dress pants are not so dressy that they can't be worn with our Admiral Ackbar t-shirt, for example.  We have three pairs of shoes, one of which we confess are not black, which is our base color.  However, we are not going to throw out a good pair of shoes just because they are not black.  We are going to wear them until they are worn out, then replace them with a black pair if possible.  We are too broke for that kind of crap.

Shoes deserve their own post, but let us just go ahead and plant the idea that you do not need 30 pairs of shoes.  

Let us discuss underwear, instead.  All of our underwear lives in a basket under our bathroom sink.  It's there waiting for us when we get out of the shower.  This won't work for everyone, but please do consider the idea of freeing yourself from the tyranny of the Underwear Drawer. You need enough socks and underwear to last about a week without having to do laundry.  They don't have to match, as no one is going to see them but you.  So if you're into fun colors or prints, have at it!  Mix and match, we are not here to judge.  A word on socks, though: socks should match your base color so they don't stick out loudly at your ankles when you sit or bend over.  Next time you buy socks, get a couple of bulk packages of the same sock, in your base color, and throw out all your old ones.   Now you'll 100% of the right color and you'll never again waste time in the morning trying to find two socks that match!

Thermal underwear count toward underwear, not toward your capsule wardrobe.  You'll likely have to have a few seasonal items, that's understandable.  We don't want to freeze for the sake of having a tidy closet.  Please look over your seasonal items with a critical eye, though.  If you live in Georgia, do you really need snow pants?  Probably not.  Keep what is practical, but be reasonable about it.

Accessories can be tough, but pare those down too.  If you live in a climate with a real winter, you may need a scarf, a hat or two, a coat, gloves, etc.  We ourselves have a few bandanas, a couple of hats, and a couple of scarves.  We also have a belt, and a small collection of jewelry. Changing up your accessories is a good way to make an outfit feel fresh even if you've worn it a hundred times before.  Rotate them in and out, and you'll always seem to be wearing something different. Ladies, if you have a skirt you may find yourself wanting some knee-highs.  That's ok, just don't hoard 50 pairs of them.

Now, here is the best side effect of creating your minimalist wardrobe:

This is all of our clothes.  Literally.  Even the pants are all hanging there. They all fit in this tiny closet.  There's no dresser. There's no armoire.  Just this closet.  It isn't even completely full.  (We are OCD here at Brokest Minimalist, so we are compelled to face all our clothes to the left and our hangers with the hooks away.  Too much time spent working in a commercial laundry house, we guess.)  We never spend time looking for  a special top to go with a particular pair of pants, because they all go.  We never waffle about what to wear.  We never lose anything and spend a frantic morning looking for it.  We are never late for work because we lost our uniform in our floordrobe.  We still feel like we have too much, but we're working on it.

Way off in the side in there we have our sentimental items hanging nicely so that we can see them from time to time and reflect.  Someday, we may be strong enough to let them go.  If not, that's ok.  Sentimentality is a valid reason to keep something too.  If you've got kids, maybe you can hand that old prom dress down to them at a time when it's coming back in style!