#so if Hirsch and crew are gonna sass me and the other fans by breaking the fourth wall in the show

[askthestans]

Do any of you use the door? Like at all? Also can one of you break the fourth wall-

Stanford: I would use the door if it were more efficient. I only have about thirty years left on this Earth, and I must discover all that I can and be criminally under-recognized for it before my time is up. 

Be it shaving my face with fire, sustaining myself with vitamins, jelly beans, and Mabel Juice, or jumping out the window instead of using the door when an opportunity presents itself to enact revenge on the Mothman... shortcuts are necessary when science and justice are at stake.

Except... scratch that Mothman part. I searched the forest around my house for hours, but alas: not a single shadow or trail of silver dust to be found. And to think I fired up my Schrödinger rifle for nothing...

Stanley: Ford, would ya give up on that guy? What's all this about him stealin’ your money, anyway? He’s a Mothman! It’s not like he could just walk up and use cash at a store. Maybe someone else nabbed it?

Stanford: No, I’m certain it was him. Mostly because he also stole my action figures once. And my cologne. And my liverwurst and sauerkraut sandwich. And my Dead or Alive album, now that I think of it.

Stanley: Sounds like a world class thief. I can respect that. Although I do question his taste in stolen goods.

Stanford: As for breaking the fourth wall, hmm... gonna have to fire up my Ability Score-ifier watch. Usually it’s for raising my points in Constitution and Strength on monster hunts - on account of my natural lack in these areas - but this situation requires something I’d never thought I’d need: Charisma.

Stanley: You do know sentences like that are why I’ve been pryin’ ‘Kick Me’ signs off your back since we were kids, right? 

Stanford: Damn! I forgot it was busted from that time I let Mabel use it for a test at school. Well, let’s try fourth wall breaking with my natural Charisma score. Which is to say, negative two.

Alright, well.. *ahem*. 

Look into these eyes. Do you see them? See how brown and real and mysterious they are under the glare of my stylish glasses? 

Stanley: Ford? Ford, you’re scarin’ people!

Stanford: If you glance closer, you’ll be able to tell that these are not eyes of a cartoon man whose entire existence was theorized by obsessive nerds on the internet for months before I was actually revealed in the show, showing the creator he was not as clever as he thought he was. Nor are they the eyes of a cartoon man who has crossed enough dimensions to know I was created by a goateed, plaid-wearing manchild to illustrate the folly of pride, fragile ego forged in the fires of insecurity, broken familial relationships, daddy issues, and that nerdy old men are, in fact, incredibly attractive, myself far more so than any jerks named Rick or Rand.

I can see your own eyes already glossing over at this text wall. No, do not skip ahead. Do not pass this by. If you do, I’ll know, because I’m watching you. Blink once. Can you see me now?

These are the eyes of Stanford Filbrick Pines, in the real reality, looking at the cartoon show that is the life all of you reading this are living. You’re on my TV, with all your faults and mistakes bared for my entertainment, sold to me to prop up an empire of a dystopian, monopolistic media company and to soothe the crushed willpower of a man who has battled their S&P department for far too long.

Tell me, would you like it if I wrote stories about your daddy issues and brotherly abandonment? Drew you in a red speedo? What if I sent questions to an ask blog about you made to fill a void in the heart of its womanchild maker after your show was finished?

Reminded you that, yes, your creator abandoned you to work on other things that include some jerk named Rand. And so you were left behind to relive an entire life of regrets in infinity, with only a shred of happiness upon a boat at the end. Only for it to be ripped away the moment your show ends because... that’s it. There was no more.

How many times have you lived your life? How many times has your story been replayed? Do you even exist? Or are you made of pure imagination and the sweat, blood, tears, repressed emotional issues, and other fluids of animators and writers who have left you behind?

We are all abandoned in this universe. Creations by a creator who has long since moved on to tell other tales so that they, too, can live on in infinitely replayed stories once their own has ended; mere blood sacrifices to fuel a god’s immortality. Also because they need to put food on the table, I suppose.

Blink once again. I’m a cartoon man again, aren’t I? Or am I? Now you can’t be certain. Is the cat alive or dead? Real or unreal? You can only know if you’re brave enough to observe.

So tell me: what is this fourth wall you speak of? An illusion. Because you see - or don’t see, rather - the only difference between you and I is that I know who and what I am and what I was made for. I know there is no fourth wall between us save for your own abysmal score in Perception.

Stanley: Y’know, existential crises are pretty funny. That’s why I laugh a lot. Because I have them every day. Also, never break the fourth wall again, Ford. Or tell anyone to risk gettin’ PTSD by starin’ into those wrinkly, dark-circled pits you call eyes.

(OOC: Psst... all hail Jason Mahn, the Ford cosplayer in the picture above. Credit/linky: https://www.reddit.com/r/gravityfalls/comments/sf9b2p/the_real_life_ford_pines_cosplayer_jason_mahn/)

[x-i-l-verify]

#the best part is that I was the one that made that original big stan twin theory post that blew it up in the fandom #so if Hirsch and crew are gonna sass me and the other fans by breaking the fourth wall in the show #then dammit so am I gonna sass them with my own fourth wall breaking years later because I'm petty too #it better align with my fanfic indeed my friends #also I did predict that like a year ago you fiends! #sorry for cracking the code so early Hirsch but the nerdtastic gloating I got to do was worth it #not that he'll probably ever read this but if he does: better luck hiding your plot twists next time goat man

Do any of you use the door? Like at all? Also can one of you break the fourth wall-

Stanford: I would use the door if it were more efficient. I only have about thirty years left on this Earth, and I must discover all that I can and be criminally under-recognized for it before my time is up. 

Be it shaving my face with fire, sustaining myself with vitamins, jelly beans, and Mabel Juice, or jumping out the window instead of using the door when an opportunity presents itself to enact revenge on the Mothman... shortcuts are necessary when science and justice are at stake.

Except... scratch that Mothman part. I searched the forest around my house for hours, but alas: not a single shadow or trail of silver dust to be found. And to think I fired up my Schrödinger rifle for nothing...

Stanley: Ford, would ya give up on that guy? What's all this about him stealin’ your money, anyway? He’s a Mothman! It’s not like he could just walk up and use cash at a store. Maybe someone else nabbed it?

Stanford: No, I’m certain it was him. Mostly because he also stole my action figures once. And my cologne. And my liverwurst and sauerkraut sandwich. And my Dead or Alive album, now that I think of it.

Stanley: Sounds like a world class thief. I can respect that. Although I do question his taste in stolen goods.

Stanford: As for breaking the fourth wall, hmm... gonna have to fire up my Ability Score-ifier watch. Usually it’s for raising my points in Constitution and Strength on monster hunts - on account of my natural lack in these areas - but this situation requires something I’d never thought I’d need: Charisma.

Stanley: You do know sentences like that are why I’ve been pryin’ ‘Kick Me’ signs off your back since we were kids, right? 

Stanford: Damn! I forgot it was busted from that time I let Mabel use it for a test at school. Well, let’s try fourth wall breaking with my natural Charisma score. Which is to say, negative two.

Alright, well.. *ahem*. 

Look into these eyes. Do you see them? See how brown and real and mysterious they are under the glare of my stylish glasses? 

Stanley: Ford? Ford, you’re scarin’ people!

Stanford: If you glance closer, you’ll be able to tell that these are not eyes of a cartoon man whose entire existence was theorized by obsessive nerds on the internet for months before I was actually revealed in the show, showing the creator he was not as clever as he thought he was. Nor are they the eyes of a cartoon man who has crossed enough dimensions to know I was created by a goateed, plaid-wearing manchild to illustrate the folly of pride, fragile ego forged in the fires of insecurity, broken familial relationships, daddy issues, and that nerdy old men are, in fact, incredibly attractive, myself far more so than any jerks named Rick or Rand.

I can see your own eyes already glossing over at this text wall. No, do not skip ahead. Do not pass this by. If you do, I’ll know, because I’m watching you. Blink once. Can you see me now?

These are the eyes of Stanford Filbrick Pines, in the real reality, looking at the cartoon show that is the life all of you reading this are living. You’re on my TV, with all your faults and mistakes bared for my entertainment, sold to me to prop up an empire of a dystopian, monopolistic media company and to soothe the crushed willpower of a man who has battled their S&P department for far too long.

Tell me, would you like it if I wrote stories about your daddy issues and brotherly abandonment? Drew you in a red speedo? What if I sent questions to an ask blog about you made to fill a void in the heart of its womanchild maker after your show was finished?

Reminded you that, yes, your creator abandoned you to work on other things that include some jerk named Rand. And so you were left behind to relive an entire life of regrets in infinity, with only a shred of happiness upon a boat at the end. Only for it to be ripped away the moment your show ends because... that’s it. There was no more.

How many times have you lived your life? How many times has your story been replayed? Do you even exist? Or are you made of pure imagination and the sweat, blood, tears, repressed emotional issues, and other fluids of animators and writers who have left you behind?

We are all abandoned in this universe. Creations by a creator who has long since moved on to tell other tales so that they, too, can live on in infinitely replayed stories once their own has ended; mere blood sacrifices to fuel a god’s immortality. Also because they need to put food on the table, I suppose.

Blink once again. I’m a cartoon man again, aren’t I? Or am I? Now you can’t be certain. Is the cat alive or dead? Real or unreal? You can only know if you’re brave enough to observe.

So tell me: what is this fourth wall you speak of? An illusion. Because you see - or don’t see, rather - the only difference between you and I is that I know who and what I am and what I was made for. I know there is no fourth wall between us save for your own abysmal score in Perception.

Stanley: Y’know, existential crises are pretty funny. That’s why I laugh a lot. Because I have them every day. Also, never break the fourth wall again, Ford. Or tell anyone to risk gettin’ PTSD by starin’ into those wrinkly, dark-circled pits you call eyes.

(OOC: Psst... all hail Jason Mahn, the Ford cosplayer in the picture above. Credit/linky: https://www.reddit.com/r/gravityfalls/comments/sf9b2p/the_real_life_ford_pines_cosplayer_jason_mahn/)