#stan asking fiddleford is hes doing anything later like hes not stuck in a cell

[tinfoil-jones]

Gravity Falls: For Your Own Good, Ch. 5

Summary: A few years after moving to Gravity Falls and having his lab built, Stanford Pines happens upon his estranged twin brother, Stanley. He mentally prepared himself to be suffocated by his brothers neediness all over again - what he wasn't prepared for was Stanley walking right past him like he didn't even notice him.

Rating: M for language, violence, and adult implications

Preface: Dialogue only, but some actions will be annotated for clarity. Cross-Posted on AO3 Here

First - Prev - Next

CH.5

“Hey, stretch. You here to play doctor?”

“I’d just like to interview you. I’m not going to touch you if that's what you’re concerned about.”

“Why not?”

“...ANYhow, I have a few questions for you.”

“Yes, I'm single.”

“Not those kinds of questions. Can you tell me your full first name?”

“Can you give me yours first?”

“Fiddleford.”

“Stan.”

“Okay, Stan. Where are you from? And don’t you dare say from my dreams.”

“Well yeah, I’d say ‘from your dreams’, not mine. Other than that, probably some gutters or a ditch somewhere.”

“What do you mean?”

“As far as I remember, I’ve been out on the streets, or in prison. I think I had a car at some point? But I dunno what happened with that, it makes my head burn trying to think about it.”

“Do you have any family?”

“No.”

“Do you remember ever having a family?”

“I don’t remember having one, but I feel like I had one before.”

“What do you feel like happened to them?”

“They probably got tired of my BS and told me to take a hike. It’s how it always goes with me.”

“That’s a theory you’ve put together. I’m asking what you feel like happened.”

“Feel like I had a dad who was waiting for an excuse to get rid of me. I feel like I had a mom who was a liar - I probably got it from her. Maybe a sibling or two? But they don’t want me around.”

“And what do you think about Stanford?”

“You mean the guy who drugged me, kidnapped me, and is keeping me prisoner in his evil basement sub-lab in the middle of the woods? I gotta say, he makes an impression.”

“But does he seem familiar to you?”

“I don’t think I could forget someone like him” 

“Is it because of his six fingers?”

“It’s twelve , and no, that's pretty normal compared to all of his other weird crap. It’s because he’s fucking crazy , and convinced I’m some mystery twin of his. But let’s stop talking about him, and talk about you instead. Are you single? You doing anything later?”

“Stay on track, Stan. Let’s take a step back and go back to talking about you. Have you recently gotten into any accidents or sustained major injuries?”

“Define ‘major’.”

“Beg your pardon?”

“Judging by your friend's reaction to the stab wounds when we met, I don’t think your definition of major injury is the same as mine.”

---

"What did you determine, Fiddleford?"

"It wasn't easy to glean things because he would not stop flirting with me - was he always this way?"

"He was a little girl-crazy when we were younger, I didn't know he liked men. But that doesn’t matter right now, what were your findings?"

"He has full cognitive function. And based on your scans he has no signs of brain damage - comparing images of his brain to yours, his genetically identical twin, there isn't any morphological difference. Based on my interview, it sounds like he's never sustained significant head trauma neither.”

"But..?"

"If he really does have amnesia, it wasn't caused by a head injury."

"What else could it be?"

"A few things - perhaps he took a drug or substance that warped his brain chemistry. Or- more likely in my opinion, based on his lifestyle and what little history he tells me, he might have undergone extreme distress that caused a mental breakdown."

"Mental trauma can cause someone to lose their memories?"

"Our memories can be a shield and a sword, Stanford. Even good memories that can comfort you through a difficult time, can also cause pain and frustration when compared to a bad predicament.

He must have gone through something so traumatic that the only way his mind could cope with the stress was to... forget things. This is a phenomenon known as repression . Most of the time, a person would repress the traumatic event itself, but it looks like he’s defied the statistics and forgotten everything else instead.”

“He can’t be… that traumatized, right? This is Stanley we’re talking about.”

“I don’t know what he was like before, but he’s got a mullet, Stanford. There ain’t no way he's in a good place mentally.”

"And how would repressing memories about our family- about me , possibly help him cope with trauma?"

"If I'm going to be frank with you, this is the first time in the years that I've known you that you even mentioned having a twin brother . You've talked about other family members before, such as your older brother Sherman, but never him.

If his mind had to prioritize which memories to keep, why would it keep memories of someone he isn't close to?"

"We are- well, we were close."

"Were is a strong word, Stanford. Survival focuses on the present, not the past.”

“... What can we do to get his memories back?”

“I’m not a therapist. But perhaps if you can get him out of the survival mindset, he’d be open to some introspection.”

“So we must disable his fight-flight-freeze response…”

“Stanford Pines, I will throw that damn tranquilizer gun down the bottomless pit if you don’t put it down. Ya'll really need to stop using the slippery slope of science without consideration for morality like it's a damn seesaw. There are other ways to get him out of fight-flight.”

“Such as?”

“I would suggest you make him feel like he’s in a safe space, but that might not work.”

“Why not? He’s perfectly safe here.”

“But does he know that? From his perspective, you’re a stranger who shot him with a tranq dart and imprisoned in your basement for scientific exploitation. And I’ll remind you, this is all without his consent. He is here against his will.”

“It’s for his own good.”

“According to you, someone he thinks he doesn’t know. This may be your twin, Stanford, but he doesn’t know that. You need to gain his trust; maybe he would have trusted you by default in the past, but that isn’t the case now.”

“I… I’m not sure how to do that, Fiddleford. At one point, we knew everything about each other. And now I barely know him, and he thinks I’m a stranger. I’m still angry at him, and still bitter about what he did before he left home, and I’m disappointed in the conman and convict he turned into… but I’m sad, because he's convinced he’s not my brother.”

“You ain’t exactly the same person you were even when we first met all them years ago. People change. How about you try talking to him?”

“Just talking to him?”

“This may be difficult for you in particular, but you should try talking to him like he’s a person; and not a science experiment, anomaly, or an equation you’re trying to solve… Hey, hey don’t be looking like the last pea at pea-time now. I believe in you, you got this.”

“Thank you, Fiddleford.”

*Ford goes back downstairs to the lab. Fiddleford waits for him to be out of earshot before speaking*

“Bless his heart. This is going to be a disaster.”

To be continued…

[masked-fox-creations]

When the Strangers Blew In, Ch. 22

This is the penultimate chapter. I'm a little bit in disbelief that we've made it here.

Summary: Stanford and Stanley Pines dream of a different life. One where they’re not just tidying their pa’s shop or helping ma take care of the baby. Where they can live freely as the men they know they are, instead of pa hounding them to marry before they become spinsters. They get a taste of that possibility when two strangers blow into town, but with them comes a heap of trouble.

Pairings: Rick/Stan (stanchez); Fiddleford/Stanford (fiddauthor)

Warnings for this chapter: Just some good old fear of the future.

ao3 link

Chapter 22— Ice is Crawling Up and Down the Walls

Both twins were awake. Soon they would be in Gravity Falls once again. Their only hope was the forest.

“Jeff’s always keeping an eye out for us,” Stanley whispered to his brother, eyeing the other men. “Once he catches whiff of us he’ll do anything he can to take us for himself.”

“Giving us ample opportunity to free Rick and Fidds, then get far from here.”

Stanley flashed him a grin.

“If he tries to boil these scaly gaffs alive I ain’t stopping him.”

Stanford had to bite back an agreeing laugh. He snuck a hand into his dress to check on the knife. It was safe and sound, waiting eagerly for its opportunity to shine.

As time went on, however, the pair began to grow nervous. They weren’t heading in the right direction.

“Alright, you hold up!” Stanley called out, stopping his horse. The other men stopped, as well, Filbrick turning around to glare at them. “Where the hell are you taking us?”

“Back where you belong,” Filbrick growled. “Now start moving or I swear—“

“We should have gone west,” Stanford interrupted, ignoring Filbrick’s scowl. “It was a straight ride there.”

“You really think it’s your place to question me, Leanne?”

“I think we ain’t taking another step further until you tell us exactly where you’re taking us,” Stanley replied firmly. His twin nodded.

“Whoa now,” Powers interjected, moving between them. “Ladies, I assure you we are on our way to Gravity Falls. We’re simply going the long way around the forest. It won’t add that much time to our trip.”

“What!” the twins exclaimed in unison. “Why?”

“You know it too well.” With that Filbrick turned his horse around. “Now move, or else your pets don’t get water tonight.”

Grinding his teeth, Stanley snapped Chestnut’s reigns. He rode fast past Powers without a glance.

Stanford’s hands tightened around his waist. He turned his head a fraction and whispered, “Get some sleep, Sixer.”

“Our plan, though! What are we going to do now, Lee?”

The desperation in his voice twisted Stanley’s gut. He reached down with both hands and squeezed all twelve of Stanford’s fingers.

“This isn’t the end, Sixer, come on. We can’t give up that easily.”

He grinned wide at Stanford, summoning all the courage he could muster. At first Stanford simply gazed back at him, brow furrowed in frustration. Stanley just kept grinning, however, and eventually Stanford returned it.

“You’re right. Especially since we’ve made it so far. I rather like the taste of freedom.”

“There’s your fighting spirit! We…we can’t lose that, Sixer.”

“No, of course not. We’re not beaten yet.” He laid his head against Stanley’s back. “Wake me should we get any other surprises.”

——

Hours later they came up on the Sprott Farm. The man himself was tending to some pigs, and when he saw them hailed Filbrick. Stanley nudged his twin awake.

“I see you’ve wrangled your little troublemakers.”

“The young Pines girls are back safe and sound,” Powers confirmed. “Thank you for pointing out the way.”

The twins narrowed their eyes at the old farmer.

“No problem, sheriff, it was my duty. Though I think you’re too soft on them. I swear on my soul they’re witches and should be burned at the stake!”

Filbrick snorted. “They wouldn’t do me any good then.”

Filbrick rode on, and the others readily followed. The twins gestured rudely at the farmer as they passed him.

“Hope your farm doesn’t magically catch on fire again,” Stanley taunted.

“If you hear any mysterious words whispered in Latin, I do hope you’ll think of us.”

Sprott seemed truly terrified; it was a small victory but the twins savored it.

It wasn’t long until they passed into town. The sun was setting in Gravity Falls and few people were walking about. Those that were didn’t cast them a second glance.

“On your feet,” Filbrick ordered.

“Why?” Stanley questioned.

Filbrick advanced menacingly on Rick and Fiddleford, hand reaching for his pistol. The twins quickly dismounted their horses. Before they could react Powers was behind them, grabbing hold of their arms in a vice-like grip.

“What’s going on?” Stanford demanded.

“Some jail time ought to do you two some good. At least it’ll keep you out of my hair,” Filbrick answered coldly.

“Wait! What’re you gonna do with them?” Stanley asked, looking frantically at their wide-eyed partners.

“They’ll pay for their crimes.”

The twins yelled and struggled as Powers dragged them to the jailhouse. Too weak from the trek they could not break away.

“You son of a bitch!” Stanley snarled. He threw a punch, but the awkward angle kept him from landing the hit.

“I know you’re upset, girls, but there’s nothing you can do. You can’t interfere with the law.”

“Not once has the law ever helped us,” Stanford said as they were pushed into the sheriff’s building.

Deputy Trigger sprung to his feet.

“Sir! You’re back.”

“Open a cell for me.”

Trigger hurriedly did so. The twins dragged their feet, but still Powers shoved them into the cell and slammed the bars closed.

“Now I’m letting you girls stay together, instead of putting you in different cells. Better for you to comfort each other.”

In lieu of gratitude, Stanley spat on his face. Calmly Powers wiped it off then turned around.

“I need to go prepare for the execution.”

The twins’ blood froze cold.

“Execution?” Stanford repeated, voice barely more than a wisp.

“As soon as morning comes, Rick Sanchez and Fiddleford McGucket will be hung.”

Powers marched out of the building without another word. Stanley gripped the bars until he was white knuckled, staring at the door in disbelief. He only turned when he heard a thud behind him.

Stanford had sunk onto the hard cot, slumping against the wall. Stanley sat down beside his twin, wrapping an arm around him and squeezing.

“It’s gonna be alright, Sixer. It’s gotta be.”

“I don’t know how. We only have a few hours until morning, with no idea where they’ve taken Rick and Fiddleford. Not to mention we are stuck in jail. I…I don’t know what to do, Lee.”

Stanley tried to put on a brave front, but quickly deflated. With a sigh he admitted, “Me neither.”

Stanford clutched at his chest where the knife was tucked away. They glanced warily at the deputy; he had dozed off in his chair.

“Too bad we can’t get out of here and slice his throat, then we could go find Rick and Fidds.
 “Stanley,” Stanford spoke softly, and his twin turned back to him, “do you think that if you had the opportunity, you’d be able to kill Filbrick?”

He took Stanford’s hands in his and answered, “Gladly.”

A ghost of a smile crossed his lips.

“I meant ability wise, but I’m glad there was no hesitation.”

“Oh, right, he’s a good shot. But remember, everyone makes mistakes.”

“He already made plenty,” Stanford agreed, voice suddenly hard. Stanley nodded.

“They all did.”

“Now if only we could get out of this cell, catch them unawares.”

The twins looked around for any possible hope of escape. The walls and bars were solid, however. Together they sighed.

“If we don’t get out in time…” Stanley started, unable to finish the horrible possibility.

“We’d avenge them. After that, I don’t know.”

Stanley glanced at where the knife was hidden, commenting, “We’ll think of something if it comes to that. But we ain’t beat yet.”

“Maybe not, but soon they will be.” He sighed. “You know, right now all I want is to see—”

Suddenly the door flew open and in unison the twins exclaimed, “Ma!”

“My babies!”

Trigger jumped up looking quite befuddled. As ma rushed to them the deputy tried to stop her. She swiveled on her heels and grabbed him by the front of his shirt, glowering at the man.

“If you think you can keep me from seeing my babies, you better be prepared to taste the hand of death, deputy.”

Trigger held up his hands in surrender. Ma released him, patting his cheek.

“There’s a smart boy.”

Two other figures giggled from the doorway and came over to the deputy, taking his arms in theirs.

“Howdy, deputy Trigger!” Susan greeted exuberantly, tossing a wink at the twins.

“Why don’t you sit down right here with us while Martha visits with her twins,” Carla said, disguising the obvious order as a suggestion.

The girls led him back to his chair, Carla sitting on his lap, while ma came over to the cell. Stanley and Stanford were already at the bars, disbelieving smiles wide on their faces.

“Ma! What’re you doing here?”

“I had to come see you two,” she answered, placing a hand on either’s cheek. “Carla saw you being dragged here and came to the Wentworth’s home to grab us. I left Shermie with her ma. We’ve been staying there since you two left.”

“I’m sorry we left without telling you anything first,” Stanford apologized sheepishly.

“Did you get our note?”

“I did, but Filbrick took it before I could hide it. I don’t blame you for leaving, sweeties, but I’m so happy to see you again.”

Though it was difficult she managed to kiss their foreheads through the bars.

“So, uh, about that note,” Stanley chuckled nervously.

Martha lifted their chins so she could look them both in the eyes. Firmly she assured, “Whether yer girls or boys, you are my babies and I love you. All I want is for you both to be happy.” She gave them a warm smile. “Those are some cute names you picked out. Let me guess—Stanford, Stanley?”

The twins beamed as ma pointed at either one, guessing correctly.

“You’re amazing, ma!”

“The names fit you. Now, we have more important things to focus on. Like getting you boys outta here.”

Even as a warmth swelled in their hearts at ma acknowledging their gender, there was still a pit of desperate dread.

“They took Fidds and Rick!”

“We aren’t sure where, but we do know that by morning they’re slated to be hung.”

Ma’s brow furrowed. “Those bastards. I swore ta Filbrick if he hurt any of ya I’d shoot him myself, and I damn well mean that.”

“Do you have any idea where he could have taken them?” Stanford wondered.

Shaking her head ma told him, “I have no clue. But don’t look so down! Yer ma has a plan on busting you at, at least.”

“Great!”

“And I think I have an idea how to save them,” Stanford announced, grinning. “Ma, this may be hard to believe, but there are creatures in the forest. The ones we need are called gnomes. They’re very tiny and wear red pointed hats—”

“Oh, ya mean those strange little men that run around the forest? Before I married Filbrick they tried ta make me their queen. Cute little fellas, but don’t know how to talk to a woman.”

Stanford and Stanley stared at her gobsmacked. Slowly they began to laugh.

“I guess Jeff has a type,” Stanley guffawed.

As they calmed down Stanford explained what they’d need. Ma nodded intently, promising to return soon. For the first time in what seemed a very long while, hope bloomed inside of them.

—— Through the small barred window in their cell the twins could see a sliver of sky. Stars were out and shining in abundance; there was no moon. They should have been napping while they could but between the uncomfortable conditions, Trigger’s watching eyes, and their own frayed nerves both were wide awake.

Stanford was leaning against his twin, feet dangling over the other end of the cot. He was staring out into the quiet night as Stanley glared at the deputy. The lawman himself wasn’t paying them much mind, casting constant glances at the door as though expecting powers to return at any moment. Truth be told it worried the twins that he hadn’t, either trusting trigger’s competence, underestimating their resourcefulness, or readying the execution.

“Hey Sixer?” Stanley whispered, causing his brother to look up. “Not that I’m complaining, but why do you think they’re waiting until morning to hang ‘em? Why not do it now?”

Stanford’s face scrunched in contemplation. The gears turned in his head for a moment. Eventually he admitted, “I have no idea. Perhaps the sheriff, through some misguided sense of duty, didn’t want this to appear like a vigilante hanging. That wouldn’t look good on any of them, and you know appearances are everything.” Stanley snorted. “That sounds like those pompous—”

Their musings were cut short by the door once again bursting open. Trigger was on his feet in a flash. He was then knocked off of them as ma reeled back and punched him square in the jaw. Something glinted on her fist; brass knuckles.

Before he could recover something flew at his neck, embedding itself there. Trigger tried to stand but only managed to swagger back down. In a moment he was out cold.

Carla looked at the blow dart in wonder. “Those little gnomes were right, this stuff is potent. Too bad it’s hard to make.”

“I don’t think you even needed to punch him,” Susan commented, nudging Trigger’s limp body with her foot.

“I wanted to.” Ma leaned over and ripped the keyring from his belt. “Alright, Stanley, Stanford, let’s go save your men.”

[as-be-low]

I got tagged by @impishnature! Thank youuu! :D :D :D

Do This: List all the things you’re currently working on in as much or as little detail as you’d like, then tag some friends to see what they are working on. This can be anything!

Hmmm okay I have like FOLDERS UPON FOLDERS full of ideas for Gravity Falls alone that I’m gradually fleshing out, so I guess that can be considered “working on,” right?

1.) Currently typing up the first half of the next chapter for THCM! It’s hella long and I’m both excited about it and kicking myself over it. It’s super cute and there will be fluff, including:

The leprecorn

Ford cuddling babies

Bathtime feat. the leprecorn

I’m feeling a little bit stuck, because I know where I’ve planned for it to go since the beginning, and to plant the seeds for that, they’d have to be planted now, but I’m second guessing myself about it for some reason. IDK. I might be at an impasse, or I might just chug on ahead.

2.) Forensic Ford AU! This story feels like a crime mystery-type-thing, and I feel like I have to have COMPLETELY planned out, no winging it because of the nature of planting clues here and there to have to reference from. (…Does that even make sense?) So right now, I’m hammering out the clues our hopeless heroes have to work with. :B

I will say that Ford and Stan get into an argument and Stan storms out, ends up missing.

Ford would be so distraught and think it was his fault

A week or so later another body would turn up mutilated with the same build as stan

Ford would be inconsolable for like a month

He'd go back to work and be like "I have to analyze the body. I have to." And would like be ugly crying a little bit at one point and someone would try to pull him away and he'd fight them

He'd run out laughing a few hours later and they'd be like "okay he's lost it" and try to hold him down but he's just like "it's not him! It's a John Doe!" And grab fiddleford who was there as emotional support and like cup his face and fiddleford would fuckin faint because ford is still wearing gross ass dirty latex gloves

He'd have to calm down and prove it (dental records, a break on the bone that should be there but isn't, etc, plus decomposition denotes a time of death that doesn't line up with when stan went missing)

Also stan shows up pissed off eight days after that of his own accord. Ford punches him on sight and stan punches back and then spends the rest of the night grumbling about it.

he had gotten roughed up up a LOT and he had to break out AGAIN and then make it back to stupid assfuck Tennessee and then THIS was the hello he gets??

“Stan why didn't you just call”

It didn't seem reasonable at the time. I got kicked in the head a lot, okay? he parts his hair to show the large gash that may be getting infected. fiddleford all but passes out, the poor squeamish bastard. somebody probably says that as he leaves the room. “poor squeamish bastard.” stan is still pissed about being beaten and lowkey tortured only to break out and get punched in the face by his brother. his nose was broken and now it’s broken even worse. he has two fresh black eyes in the morning. ford feels bad for his “crime of passion” and stan just rolls his eyes like “next time just finish the job and get me with a nail bat, would ya? it’s more efficient.” “stanley, that isn’t funny.” “who said I was playin’, asshole?” that asswhooping really does a number on him, and mixed with the extra punches, they send him to the hospital, where they check over all of his other poorly-healing injuries (broken ribs, broken wrist, compound fractured foot (“and you WALKED here?” “what other choice did I have? Would you pick me up as a hitchhiker?”), bruised liver and lung, and untreated concussion. 

Poor Stan.

3.) I’ve also got the plans for a sequel to He Himself sitting on the backburner! I’d intended for that to be a one-shot, but someone made a good point and it kinda just spiraled, and ultimately the Stans are dweebs who keep messing with time and concepts they have no business fiddling with by going back and back and back, and yeah. They’re getting sentenced to Globnar. Of course they are. Whether or not either of them want any of the possible outcomes to come to fruition is debatable.

4.) I got inspired by Coheed’s Domino the Destitute and now I have the bones for something that follows in the vein of that song. I don’t know exactly what’s gonna happen yet, but I do know that it’ll likely be called “While You Were Left with Nothing.” It might just devolve into a collection of songfics for a genre I’m pretty sure no one in this fandom even likes but that also sounds like a problem I’m not particularly concerned with. It is SUCH a Pines Twins Classic song, so if anyone knows it, please come gush with me over it pleasepleaseplease

5.) I’ve also got this REALLY, REALLY angsty idea for a story where a Portal Ford stumbles his way into a parallel Earth dimension and finds himself heading for Gravity Falls, just for the heck of it. He doesn’t like what he finds in the least.

6.) I also have this long, drawn-out file that’s a compilation of ideas for a collection of one-shots that focus on different ways the A Better World universe(s) could have gone. 99.999% of them are just SAD ENDINGS BECAUSE THAT’S HOW I OPERATE, but one in particular (which is of course the longest outline/ficlet to date) has the potential for a happy ending, if you’ll forgive the messy formatting (I write and keep these on my phone):

Another stan gets into a yelling match with his ford, which stops after he tells him to do the first worthwhile thing in his life. Stan snatches the journal and storms out at that. Ford stabilizes everything after a while, maybe two or three years, and reaches out to his brother again, asks him to come again. stan comes, gaunt and nervous looking, expecting another errand. is stunned when no request is made. is itching to leave after a short time, “before… before I, y’know…” “before you what?” “Before I can mess something else of yours up.” He makes good on his own suggestion, and bounces soon after. Ford calls him again, but is met with polite noncommittal responses towards ever coming back. It’s like he’s afraid of ford. maybe he read the journal. maybe he should be afraid of ford. his calls get less and less frequent, and their tone becomes more and more stilted. Ford doesn’t know what to do. He calls him again to let him know shermy was having grandkids, that he’d expressed that he wanted stan to be there. “he doesn’t mean that, ford. Nice gesture, though.” “stanley, he does want you there. don’t say that.” “I’m a stranger to his son. he doesn’t want some stranger there with him ’n his wife at the birth of his first kid. Ma ’n Pa’ll probably be there, too, ’n we know I’m not welcome there then.” he calls back to let him know the babies are twins. stan hangs up. Extra angst if Filbrick’s dead at this point and nobody told him. Ford’s calls go unanswered. after a few  years of occasional, unanswered calls every few months, ford gives up. The kids go up for a summer visit. Mabel finds out Ford has a twin, digs through and finds the number and calls INCESSANTLY. Stan answers, but he’s not happy about it at all. Mabel works her magic and insists he comes to Oregon to meet her. They have a long talk about what went wrong. Stan finds himself surprised to be pouring his heart out to this stranger of a child, telling her how he messed up ford’s project and ruined his opportunity to get into a good school, and how he just made a big series of mistakes here and there down the years. He’s convinced Ford only talked to him or called him to be nice because he felt he was supposed to.

“I’m not anyone you wanna meet, kid.”

“And now?”

“what?”

“what do you do now?”

“taxi driver.”

“oooh!”

“Look kid, you probably shouldn’t be talking to me. I’m sure Ford doesn’t want you using his phone. Or talking to the likes of me. Aren’t you on summer break? shouldn’t you be outside or something? Aren’t you supposed to be playing outside?”

or better yet, ford’s like uhh kids how about a road trip? because they’re getting absolutely BORED and he wants to be a good summer guardian and let them have fun, I mean dipper’s happy to play DD&MD but mabel gets left out that way and none of her interests are anything Ford knows what to do with/about so she’s spending a lot of the summer knitting (Ford’s put strict stipulations on outdoors and w/e) so there’s not much she can really do?? she’s not allowed in the lab after a near-accident, though dipper still tags along. Ford notices the child growing listless and doesn’t know what to do about it, so by the point it’s reached a concerning high, he’s grasping at straws for ideas and some intern is like “my family always did road trips?” and he latches onto that. mabel’s scrapbook has turned remarkably dull, like she’s taking pictures of leaves and squirrels she sees on the porch and the trees and dipper’s pile of sweaty socks and everything is just so mundane but she’s trying really hard to make it sound exciting in the scrapbook and if ford ever finds it wow he’d feel so guilty

so they roadtrip and it’s hella awkward and since he’s doing this kinda for mabel even though she’s never expressed any desire to go on a road trip, he lets her kinda guide the itinerary? she picks wherever stan is living.

ford find mabel’s little cell phone or whatever and she’s been messaging stan and ford reads through it and is like “who is this G. S. with 9 heart eye emojis” and is ready to go kick some little punk’s ass but then he reads further and realizes it’s Stanley and he also seems to have no idea what she’s up to (and has said “kiddo, you can’t meet me. just cuz you know i’m your grunkle (ha! I like that name! Grunkle. it’s got a nice ring to it) doesn’t mean you gotta come visit. please don’t visit. I’m nobody you wanna see.” and she’s like okay fine I promise” though yeah that’s obviously a lie. he doesn’t know whether to confront her or not. obviously he should, but that opens the can of worms of why/how didn’t he even know where his brother was (stanley moved & got a new number and the last time ford tried to call the old number was disconnected) vs. how did SHE know “mabel, how did you find his number??” and “why won’t you let me meet my other grunkle?? HE’S SAD AND LONELY WHY DON’T YOU EVER VISIT HIM HE’S YOUR TWIN” etc

maybe mabel sent him a postcard right before they set off, so he’s texting her repeatedly like

“kid. kid, where are you? please don’t do anything stupid. please don’t be alone, I don’t know what I’d do if you got hurt on account of the likes of me.”

and that’s as far as I got, but then yeah there’s gonna be a happy reunion of course.

7.) I also have thank you cards to write and mail and just regular post cards, and also pen pal letters that are like OVER A YEAR OVERDUE BECAUSE I AM A HORRIBLE PERSON WHY AM I LIKE THIS ALSO WHERE IS MY FANCY INK BOTTLE I JUST BOUGHT

8.) I’ve also got a little AU ficlet set after Weirdmageddon and Stan still has amnesia (Mabel’s scrapbook didn’t really work like they’d hoped.) Ford finds that he doesn’t have the heart to tell his brother the sad things about their lives so he just makes up happy, sweet little lies to fill Stan’s head with because he just can’t bring himself to hurt him and Stan doesn’t question it or think to wonder why after a certain point he’s no longer in any pictures.

Stan starts to remember his life via nightmares, which he just chalks up to being regular nightmares. He doesn’t want Ford to know he’s having them because they’ve always been such a happy, average family, right? It would be out of place for him to have…such awful, graphic nightmares. And it was bad enough that his brain was fuzzy and he couldn’t remember things so good, especially when Ford was so smart! 12 PhDs? Their family must’ve been so proud. He was so proud. It was bad enough Ford had gotten saddled with such a dumb…cousin? No, they were brothers. He couldn’t even remember he had a brother.

His nightmares get increasingly worse and at some point turn into flashbacks/night terrors and the most violent ones he relives send Ford into a panic. He didn’t know about THIS. Ford is wholly unprepared for firsthand experience of what Stan went through, and Stan is nearly mute about it all and refuses to talk because he’s ashamed of all the freaky dreams; Ford shouldn’t have to deal with any of this! Maybe he should just put him in a home, or something. He didn’t wanna hold him back, or anything. He’s not sure why Ford looks so heartbroken when he said that.

9.) This idea note’s just short and simple enough to stand on its own:

one-shot where Ford spends an evening demolishing the stan-o-war after the “incident.”

Call it “The Wind out of My Sails”

I imagine him having stolen a cigarette or something to watch the ship burn with.

10.) I’ve also got an idea for a sort of Southern Gothic AU where Mrs. McGucket is something of folk healer that may or may not dabble in the occult, which leads to all sorts of monster hunting shenanigans, with added kudzu action. Maybe the real monster was the friends we made along the way lol

...Hmm, that’s a lot and that’s super long, so I should probably stop right there while I’m ahead, haha!

I taaaaag,  @themindofcc ,  @thefaceofhoe , @icefeels , @vermeerdear , @ancientouroboros , @femmeofthesouthernwild , and anyone else who’s jonesin’ to do this! (Tag me back! I’m always curious about what other folks are writing! :D)