#stanley writes stuff

[sanct1f1ed]

favorite stan twins characterization is that they're both equally insane. stanley just gets more air time to show it off. loosely inspired by a post i read earlier but here's some absolutely insane things both of them have done

stanley:

drugged a person and turned them into an exhibit in the mystery shack

had a vegas wedding to a prospector-themed novelty dispenser

gave mabel a grappling hook

failed to steal an animatronic badger

chewed his way out of the trunk of a car

punched at least three bald eagles

is multiply divorced, possibly even with the novelty dispenser

committed premeditated murder on a llama

faked a heart attack to get on Wheel of Fortune

took his clothes off in front of a live studio audience on Wheel of Fortune

has a rivalry with a fifth grader, a grandmother, and a man who exclusively dresses like a corn cob

stanford:

pulled a gun on a bus driver when he wouldn't let a pig on board

directly assisted in mind-controlling ronald reagan during his election in 1980

gave mabel a crossbow

got bitten by a vampire bat and subsequently began sampling human blood

owns contraband outlawed in 9000 dimensions; keeps it in an extremely flimsy plastic case

"accidentally" set a hawk on fire

has exes ranging from as normal as his old college buddy to as weird as a triangle and an alien with 7 eyes who put a metal plate in his head

wears turtlenecks because he's hiding multiple tattoos he regrets, including one themed around "all star" by smash mouth

is an Extremely wanted criminal across hundreds of dimensions; was completely kicked out of one for card counting

is, bizarrely, super into the band Eurythmics

can see shrimp colors

[sleeplessdreamer14]

𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌

fandom: gravity falls

relationship: stanford pines x reader

summary: the moment Ford realized he liked you. 

contains: stan being stan, the uh-oh moment, and pining

Ford wasn’t the most social person, to put it plainly. Despite his popularity amongst his teachers at school and the odd handful of classmates, he normally preferred his own company, otherwise his family’s. It had been that way for a long time, and it seemed like it would remain so for the foreseeable future.

And so it did. That is, until he met you, which he did not see coming. 

You had this welcoming presence about you, that much was clear by the way you spoke to him for the first time in the seventh grade, remaining mostly unfazed by his sixth digit aside from the initial surprise. The first time he caught himself rambling about parapsychology and anomalistics, he found no judgment or disinterest in your expression. In fact, you were actually listening, setting down whatever you were doing just to give him your undivided attention. That was a first. It felt nice to have someone (who wasn’t his brother or mother) listen to him. 

And the energy was returned, as he indulged your interests too. Before he knew it, Ford would often seek out your company, whether his brother was available or not, and the two of you could usually be found bouncing ideas off of each other. The room seemed to brighten when you came into view, your presence made him feel comfortably warm inside. Whenever you two parted ways, it always felt too soon, just like it did now.

“Oh my gosh.”

Stan’s voice drew Ford’s attention away from you as you left.

“What?” he asked, mildly perturbed by the wily grin on his brother’s face. Stan just chuckled and nudged him, “You’ve got it so bad, it’s almost embarrassing.” he teased, to which Ford lightly shoved him away, beginning their route back home from the pier. 

“Stanley, come on. They’re my friend just as they are yours. They’re good company.” he said, glancing off to the side, as if that could conceal the rosy pink hue on his face, but Stan remained undeterred. “Sixer, face it. You’re whipped with a capital wh-pshh!” he said, smacking one hand with his other for emphasis. 

“I am not- look, [Name] is very kind and a good friend, I appreciate that. It’s not like I lie awake at night thinking about them.”

Several hours later, it was well past nightfall and everyone in the Pines household was fast asleep, save Ford. 

Up on the top bunk, he laid on his back, hands folded over his midriff as his chest heaved slowly and his heart thrummed steadily beneath its surface. That warmth was still present, especially around his face. His conversation with Stanley had been playing on loop all evening.

Of course Ford liked you, heck, he was crazy about you. You were so nice to him and fun to be around, your enthusiasm was so endearing, and you never treated his abnormalities as though they were defects.

And you weren’t bad to look at either, of course, like earlier that afternoon on the boardwalk when the sun’s light highlighted your features. He could stare at you for hours. The way you diminished his resolve just by looking his way and smiling at him was so positively-

Oh.

Oh. 

“Oh no.”

Ford could just faintly hear a sleepy chuckle from his brother in the bunk below him. 

if this gets enough notes I’ll write a part 2

[squatch-and-stretch]

You’ve heard of AUs where Fiddleford went through the portal, and you’ve heard of AUs where Stanley goes through the portal, now get ready for both!

[localcanadiancreature62]

Me when i write fluff: *SNIFF* *SNIFF* *CRYING* THEY'RE SO HAPPY. THEY FINALLY GET THEIR GOOD ENDING. AUGHHHH.

Me when i write angst: Hmmm which one of these chucklefucks will i bestow horrid psychological torture upon this time?. I will make them feel so hopeless that THEY ARE SO SAD AND FUCKED UP AND THEY WANT TO FUCKING KILL THEMSELVES AHAHAHAAHAHHAHA.

[thelosers-club]

headcanon that after hanging out with the losers for so long and connecting with them so hard, the adult losers with their memories gone are still extremely weird to be around because theyre just so used to their weirdness being normal with the people theyre around

[earako]

Second chance, chances missed

A/N: Pulling up to this fandom 12 years later but I'm having Filbrick Pines thoughts and making it everyone elses's problem

-/-

Filbrick Pines was 83 years old.

He had left Jersey back when he was 72.

For a man who claimed that Jersey was in his blood...his blood might as well be the waves crashing against the shores of glass shard beach. His belief that he'd live and die in Jersey was nothing compared to the wrath of his wife.

The sorrow of his eldest son.

The innocent, genuine confusion of his youngest as he grew up with pictures of brothers he only half remembered, one of them off to college and the other...

But he saw the paper, he saw the obituary, it was that damn paper that finally made Caryn snap and leave in the night with Shermie in the back seat.

Stanley, the younger twin, Caryn's little free spirit, Ford's betrayer, and Shermie's babysitter when Caryn was busy he was dead. The paper said he was dead, Filbrick saw the car and the burnt clothes.

The sky was blue, water was wet, and Stanley was dead. Those were the facts.

So why, in the name of all thats good and holy did he see two men who looked remarkably alike in the window of a cafe next to his wife and who he assumed was Shermie?

Why did he see Caryn reach over and cup the cheek of the man who had Filbricks square jaw, her mouth obviously calling him her 'free spirit.'

Why did the man, the one without a red beanie, have a sixth finger that Filbrick could see when he gestured with his hands while Caryn watched with fond affection.

Filbrick shook his head.

Mind must be playing tricks on him again. He should find a paper or something, check the date. If it's near the twins birthday his old, battered, brian may be mixing things up again.

A pain in Filbrick's arse, though an explanation he was far more comfortable with then the current suggestion is brain was making.

He went to leave when a hand curled around his wrist, stopping him.

Filbrick tugged his hand back prepared to snap at whatever knucklehead grabbed him and was interrupted when he heard a breathy, "Pa?"

He froze.

The air was warm, the birds were annoying, and Stanley was dead.

"Stanley? What are you-"

Caryn and the two men with her stood a few feet away from the man who still had a grasp on Filbricks wrist.

Filbrick looked at the men, then to Caryn, then back to man who had his face holding his wrist.

"You ignoramous, the papers said you were dead!"

[st7arlight]

what are they looking at over there…..

[employee052]

idk, crowsx3 design??? sdkjfh

the heads are all made of porcelain, and can rotate like that one horror short film with kevan brighting voicing in it

[thelastspeecher]

Weird Little Critter - Chapter 4: Transitions, Part 1

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 AO3

You may have noticed this is a "part one". Well, @elishevart and I were working on Chapter 4, and then realized partway through we'd have to split it into two. And by the time we finished, we realized we'd have to split it into three. So keep an eye out for the next two chapters!

——————————————————————————————

              “You’re making pancakes wrong,” Stan said to Angie.  Angie pointed the spatula at him.

              “You don’t get to have an opinion on this.  You ain’t cooked a single meal since ya moved in.”

              “Yeah, ‘cause I don’t know how to cook anything except for breakfast!”

              “The pancakes ‘re perfectly fine!” Angie snapped, gesturing to the stack cooling on a plate on the counter.  Stan picked up the mason jar full of dried crickets Angie kept by the stove.

              “You put bugs in them!”

              “Only in Stanford’s!”

              Ford tuned out Stan and Angie’s bickering as he chewed his final bite of cricket chip pancakes.  He idly played with the new blue streak in his hair and sighed. 

              Now that Stan had officially moved in and wanted input on how things were run in the house, he was constantly butting heads with Angie. It seemed like the only time they weren’t arguing was when they were sleeping. Though Ford walked past Angie’s room the night before. She talked in her sleep almost every night, but last night, her sleeptalking had been a rehashing of an argument she’d had with Stan earlier that day.

              The phone rang.  Ford swallowed the last of his breakfast and stood up.

              “I’ll answer that,” he said to Stan and Angie.  Whether they heard him or not was up in the air.  He sighed and walked into the living room.  He picked up the phone.  “This is Stanford Pines.”

              “Oh, hello, Mr. Pines,” said a voice Ford recognized.  “This is Dr. Roberts from the Gravity Falls Pet Clinic.  Is Angie there?  We got the last of the results for Tubbs.”  Ford closed his eyes.

              Fantastic.  He leaned against the wall.

              “Angie and I share ownership of Tubbs,” he said.  “You can tell me the results and I’ll pass it on to her.”

              “Really?  Let me check here…”  There was some rustling.  “Yes, your name is on the paperwork as well.  All right, I can tell you.  Everything on his bloodwork seemed normal, other than a strange high amount of silver, which could cause some neurological issues.  When we drew some more blood during the appointment to remove his cast, however, the silver was gone.”

              “I see…” Ford mumbled.

              Silver, huh?  Perhaps that could be related to why I took so long to return to human form.

              “The x-ray looked fine other than his broken leg.  On the ultrasound, though, we found something interesting,” the vet continued.  Ford straightened, suddenly curious.  “Tubbs was sexed as male, and he does have testes.  However, he also has ovaries.”  Ford’s jaw dropped.

              “What?!” he shouted.  The bickering from the kitchen stopped.

              “Don’t worry, he’s fine.  It’s surprisingly common for amphibians to have both male and female reproductive organs.”

              “Will- is- can he-” Ford stammered.  He was too terrified of the answer for the question to fully leave his mouth.  However, the vet understood what he was unintentionally dancing around.

              “I suspect that he could both fertilize eggs and lay fertilized eggs himself,” the vet said.  Ford slumped against the wall.  “I won’t know for sure without running some more tests.”

              “There’s no need for that,” Ford said, pinching the bridge of his nose.  “Though…can I come by to pick up some printouts of the test results?”

              “Of course!  Bring some ID so that we can verify your identity.”

              The security at the vet is higher than some doctor’s offices I’ve been to.

              “Understood,” Ford said.

              “Great!  We’ll see you in a bit when you come to get the results, then!”

              “Yes.”  Ford hung up the phone.  Someone cleared their throat.  Ford looked over.  Angie and Stan stood in the entryway that led to the kitchen, watching him curiously.

              “What was that about?” Stan asked.

              “Oh, uh, the doctor called with the results of my medical tests.”

              “You mean the vet called,” Stan said.  Angie elbowed him roughly.  Stan winced.  He looked down at her with a scowl.  “You’re so bony it’s like you fucking stabbed me!”

              “Oh, hush,” Angie snapped.  She turned to Ford.  “Did they have some concerns?  The way ya shouted, it sounded like ya were spooked by somethin’.”

              “No, not really,” Ford said quickly.  Judging by the expressions on Stan and Angie’s faces, they didn’t buy it.  “Apparently my bloodwork showed significant levels of silver.  That was what took me by surprise.  I suspect that may be the reason I was unable to return to human form for so long.”  Stan still didn’t look convinced, but the doubt on Angie’s face faded somewhat.  “I’m going to go to the office to pick up the test results to look them over myself.”

              “You might be able to find somethin’ related to bein’ stuck fer days as a salamander,” Angie said.  Ford nodded, seizing the lie.  “Be polite to the folks at the vet, okay?  They don’t know any of what yer goin’ through, so lashin’ out at ‘em would be completely pointless.”

              “Of course,” Ford said firmly.  “I understand that.”

              “Good.”

              “Hey, uh, while you’re out and about,” Stan said cheerfully, “maybe pick up some chocolate chips?  That way Angie can make some decent pancakes?”  Angie elbowed him again.  “Oof!”  Ford grabbed the keys to the pickup.

              “I’ll see what I can do,” he said dryly.

-----

              The clock on the oven declared that it was past midnight.  Ford rifled through the pages of Tubbs’s medical results under the soft yellow glow of the kitchen light.  When he arrived at the vet, they had happily handed everything over to him, even taking the time to annotate the results, labeling structures on the x-ray and ultrasound, pointing out what levels were healthy for the various analytes in his bloodwork.

              I didn’t expect to need their notes, but I clearly overestimated my ability to read medical results.  Ford frowned at one of the ultrasound images.  I would have no idea what I was looking at if they hadn’t labeled it.

              “Yer up late,” a soft voice said.  Ford jerked in surprise, one of the ultrasound pictures falling to the floor.  The speaker, Angie, walked over and picked it up.  Ford’s heart began to race.

              “Well, uh, I could say the same about you,” he managed weakly.  “I thought you went to bed hours ago.”

              “I did. I got up to get a glass of water.”

              “Ah.”  Ford held out a hand.  “Don’t let my late night studying delay you.”  His heart sank.  Angie wasn’t giving him the page.  She was looking down at it with a small frown.  “Angie, that is my private medical information.”

              “Is this why ya got so worked up durin’ the phone call earlier?” she asked quietly.  “And why you were actin’ a bit off the rest of the day?”

              “I- I don’t know what you’re-” Ford stammered.  Angie placed the page on the table, image up.  Painfully visible red marker circled and labeled “Ovaries” and “Testes” on the picture.

              “It ain’t uncommon fer this sort of thing to happen in what we call ‘lower vertebrates’,” Angie said.  “Amphibians are included in that group.  Though I mostly hear ‘bout it in frogs, rather than salamanders.”

              “By ‘this sort of thing’, you mean…”

              “Havin’ both ovaries and testes,” Angie said flatly.  Ford closed his eyes.  “This ain’t somethin’ to be ashamed of!”

              “How?” Ford snapped.  “How could I not be ashamed?”

              “Look.”  Angie sat at the table across from Ford.  “This happens!  In humans!  Non-cursed humans!  I learned ‘bout it in school.  Durin’ egg production, sperm production, fertilization, gestation, sometimes development goes left when it was s’pposed to go right.  Folks wind up with reproductive systems or- or sex hormones outside the norm.”  Angie smiled.  “It’s just another way of bein’.”

              “I suppose you would have a less negative viewpoint of this, given where you’re from,” Ford muttered.  Angie’s smile faded.

              “What’s that s’pposed to mean?”

              “Abnormalities and disorders are common in isolated rural communities.”  A shadow crossed Angie’s face.

              “That was uncalled for,” she said in a low tone.  “All’s I’m doin’ is tryin’ to comfort ya!”

              “Maybe I don’t want comfort!”

              “You want to wallow?”

              “Perhaps,” Ford said tartly, fully aware that he was purposefully being contrary at this point.

              “Lord above.”  Angie rubbed her eyes wearily.  “This don’t change anything.  It ain’t like ya were plannin’ on reproducin’ in yer cute salamander form anyways.”

              “What about my human form?” Ford asked.  Angie frowned at him.  “The axolotl I spoke to at the pet store told me even when I appear human, I’m still an amphibian.  Does that mean I-”  Ford swallowed.  He hugged his sides, choking out the words with difficulty. “Does that mean I have ovaries right now?” he croaked weakly.  Angie stared at him.  After a moment, she sighed.

              “I don’t know.”  She leaned back in her chair.  “And…I know ya don’t want to hear this, but it’s a possibility, so I have to get it out there.  You never had an ultrasound ‘fore ya got cursed.  It’s possible you’ve always been like this and didn’t know.”

              “Yes,” Ford said quietly.  “That is a very real possibility.  Polydactyly sometimes is tied to genetic disorders, after all.  My doctor tested me for everything he could think of when I was a child.  But it’s possible something was missed.”

              “That- I weren’t tryin’ to tie it to yer polydactyly,” Angie said, sounding impatient.  “I told ya, folks what have no symptoms can discover their reproductive systems developed in a weird way durin’ a routine exam or puberty or when they’re strugglin’ to have children.”  Ford nodded.  “The way I see this sit’ation is that we ain’t quite reached the bridge we need to cross yet.”

              “What do you mean?”

              “Like I said, this don’t change anything,” Angie said.  Her tone had eased from irritated to gentle.  “If ya start, I don’t know, developin’ breasts or experiencin’ weird hormonal swings, we’ll deal with it then.  If ya want to have a child with someone and are strugglin’ to conceive, we’ll deal with it then.  Those are the bridges we’ll cross.  But we ain’t reached ‘em.”  Ford let Angie’s words sink in for a few moments.  He nodded slowly.

              “You are correct.  We have new data, but nothing it can be used for yet.” He slumped on the table, resting his head on his arm as he idly picked up another note. 

              “Exactly.”  Angie yawned, politely covering her mouth while it was open.  “And I know how ya work, so please don’t try to sneak somewhere with an ultrasound to get yourself checked out in human form.  Ya won’t be able to operate the dang thing right and I’ll just have to bail ya out of jail.”  Ford managed a small smile.

              “Noted.”  Angie yawned again.  “Angie, you look exhausted.”

              “It’s the middle of the night.”

              “Yes, but you’ve been looking tired in the middle of the day as well,” Ford pushed.  Angie shrugged.  “I think you may be slipping into bad habits and pushing yourself too hard.”  Angie rolled her eyes as he closed his own.  “I recognize it is slightly hypocritical of me.”

              “It is,” Angie said.  She shifted in her seat and looked away.  “But…I have been feelin’ a bit like a cub scout den mother tryin’ to manage both you and Stan.”

              “I’m sorry.  Is there anything I can do to help?”

              “Since yer back to yer normal self, I’d appreciate ya doin’ more stuff ‘round the house.  Maybe wrangle Stan every now and then.”  Angie yawned for a third time.  “All right.  I’ve got to get back to bed.  I’ll talk to ya in the mornin’.”  She got up from the table.  She clumsily exited the kitchen, bumping into the doorjamb on her way out.  Guilt formed a painful pit in Ford’s stomach.

              She really has been acting as our manager for far too long.  A yawn escaped from him.  I should go to bed as well.  Ford began to gather up the paperwork.  I’ll have to figure out a way to make it up to Angie for all her help.  Perhaps I can purchase a gift of some sort for her.

-----

              “I can’t believe he brought us here.”

              “I can’t believe he suggested it.” 

              Ford cleared his throat, drawing Stan and Angie’s attention.

              “Well, we have been cooped up in the house and more importantly I was stuck in my tank for most of last week, so an outing seemed appropriate. Besides...” He turned to Angie. “I thought we all could use the distraction.”

              Angie nodded knowingly. To Ford’s relief, the bags under her eyes weren’t as prominent as they had been a few days ago. After their discussion in the kitchen, he had decided to seek out an activity to improve her mood and energy. Thankfully, he stumbled across this activity the three of them could enjoy, a town over.

              “Yeah, but why a zoo?” asked Stan as they stepped toward the archway entrance.

              “It’s actually a sanctuary for unwanted animals,” Ford explained. “The animals here are generally exotic pets that the owner couldn’t take care of, old circus or zoo animals, and rescued wild animals that couldn’t be released after being healed.”

              “Why not an amusement park? Or a fair? Or even, I don’t know, the lake?”

              “Are ya serious?” sighed Angie. 

              “What? It could- oh right. Yeah, after you got nabbed there, the lake might not be a great idea.” Stan looked away, scratching the back of his neck. Ford walked up to him and patted his shoulder.

              “It doesn’t matter. I admit that I might, ah, not yet be ready for the lake, but what happened is in the past.”  He offered a reassuring smile. Stan returned the expression.  Angie stood on her tiptoes to swing her arms across the twins’ shoulders, a grin of her own spread across her face.

              “Then let’s get going, boys!” she exclaimed as she gently pushed them toward the entrance. 

-----

              The start of the sanctuary visit went smoothly. They began with the big outdoor animals. The place was clean and had undergone a recent makeover, as a volunteer explained to them. The enclosures holding the animals they oohed and ahhed at were now bigger and offered more stimulation and enrichment. 

              There was a bit of everything. Raccoons and skunks that people thought would make great pets. A bobcat that had been caught in a trap and lost a leg. An old retired elephant. A trio of young brown bears whose mother had sadly perished a few months prior. A pond with crocodiles that made a voice in Ford’s head tell him to stay clear. They were even given the opportunity to feed some of the giraffes and birds. 

              Ford couldn’t remember the last time he had seen Angie this happy and excited. He smiled at his friend, then glanced at his twin. Stan too had a broad smile and a spark in his eye.  A spark that Ford recalled well from when they were younger. He smiled back and kept walking with them. 

              Everything was going great.  The trio was headed to the final stop of the tour: the reptile room. Angie’s smile got twice as big as she rushed for the door. Both twins were right behind her. 

              As soon as Ford crossed the double doors, he was assaulted by an onslaught of tiny voices talking all at the same time. 

              “Food! Dislike strangers. Want water. Too cold. Too hot. Sleepy. Bored. Like strangers. Strangers fun! Look at me! Don’t look! Look! Look! Sad. Happy!”

              Stanford looked for the crowd of people that clearly had to be in the reptile room.  But he, Stan, and Angie were the only ones there.  All he could see were the many aquariums housing reptiles and amphibians. His ears started to ring. A muffled voice came from his left.

              “Ford, are you all right?”

              He spun around to see his companions watching him with worried expressions on their faces.

              “How are you so calm?” he asked.  “Can you not hear it?” His own voice felt distant and overshadowed by everything around him. 

              “Hear what?” asked Stan. Ford opened his mouth to respond, but the voices were increasing in volume, overwhelming him.  He covered his ears in vain. His breath came in and out faster, on the brink of hyperventilating. He closed his eyes, trying to reduce some of the stimulus overtaking him.

              “Oh my gosh! Stanley, help me get him out of here now!” Angie shouted. 

              Soon, Ford felt two hands on his arms guiding him somewhere. He was too overcome to fight as he was led away. Fresh air hit his face.  Ford opened his eyes.  They were outside.  The cacophony of voices was slowly starting to die down. Stan lowered him to the ground, his back leaning against a wall. 

              “All right, Sixer, deep breaths, take it easy,” said his twin as Ford gasped for air.  Stan rubbed slow circles on Ford’s back, but despite their close proximity, he still sounded distant. “What happened back there?”  Ford shook his head, unable to say anything.  Thankfully, Angie spoke up.

              “A few weeks ago when we went to a pet store, he talked with an axolotl there,” she said.  “I’m guessin’ he heard all those critters in there.  All at once.  Which would be a lot.  Am I right, Stanford?”

              “I believe so,” Ford croaked. He could feel bile rising in his throat and swallowed to keep it down. 

              Another “fantastic perk” of my…condition.  After a few minutes of breathing in the fresh outdoor air, Ford had calmed enough to regain control.

              “How are ya feelin’?” asked Angie. Ford glanced up to see his friend looking at him, her blue eyes filled with worry. 

              “Drained and exhausted.” Stanford sighed. “It feels like my head is about to explode.”

              “All right, I think we’re gonna cut our trip short,” declared Stan. He lifted Ford’s arm, helping him back to his feet. “Come on, Ford, let’s get you home.”

              “And get ya somethin’ to drink when we get there,” Angie added.  Stan looked at her with interest.  Angie rolled her eyes. “I was referrin’ to water, not alcohol.”  Stan rolled his eyes right back at her. 

              Ford grumbled, upset to be leaving so soon, but obeyed, even as his legs threatened to buckle at any moment. Stan supported him as they slowly trekked back to the car. When they got to the car, Ford leaned heavily against it until Stan unlocked the doors, then crawled into the back seat.

              “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. 

              “About what?” Angie asked as she sat next to him. 

              “I ruined our outing because of my…episode.”

              “Don’t worry, Sixer,” Stan said with a shrug. “It could have happened to anyone.” He turned the engine on and slowly drove them away. 

              No, it couldn’t. Ford leaned his head on his hand and watched the scenery pass by. Only my curse could have ruined such a perfect outing. 

-----

              The light of the first full moon since Stan had come to stay lit a path for Ford to follow home.  There was a bounce in his step as he walked.  He had heard about the legendary underground black market for magical creatures in Gravity Falls, called the Crawlspace.  In fact, it was one of the first things he learned about the magical creature culture when he started his research.  But humans were not allowed, and the ban was strictly enforced.  Now, however?  He had been able to locate the market and walk in without a problem.

              And I finally got Angie that gift she deserves. It, along with something Ford had purchased for himself, was nestled snugly in a crossbody bag Angie had given him before he left for the Crawlspace.  Ford was nervous about trying the potion he’d got for himself.  Though part of me is excited to see what it will do.  Ford arrived at the house.  He opened the front door.

              “Hello?” he called tentatively.  The Stanmobile wasn’t in the driveway, so Stan was presumably out.  But Angie was more of a homebody, so she wasn’t likely to have left with Stan.

              “I’m in the living room!” Angie’s voice called.  He walked into the house and made his way to the living room.  Angie was sitting on the couch reading a book.  As Ford approached, he could make out the title: Journey to the Center of the Earth.

              “Why are you up late reading Jules Verne?” Ford asked.  Angie chuckled.  She patted the couch cushion next to her.  Ford climbed up.

              “I’m actually quite the fan of science fiction,” she said, sounding almost shy.

              “I had no idea.  I always see you reading field guides or other informative literature.”

              “That’s fer research.  Lately, I’ve been too busy to read fer reg’lar enjoyment.  I decided to get some fun readin’ done while Stan was out of the house.”  Angie slid a bookmark into the novel and set it aside.  “Did ya find the watchacallit?”

              “The Crawlspace?” Ford asked, amused.  Angie nodded.  “Yes, I did!”

              “Oh, excellent!”  Angie clapped her hands.  “Did ya enjoy yourself?”

              “Yes, it was most informative,” Ford gushed.  Angie beamed at him.  “I’m glad to have finally found a silver lining for the thundercloud that is my curse.”  Angie stroked the top of Ford’s head.

              “I knew you’d find a benefit somewhere.”  A twinkle entered Angie’s eye.  “Since it’s a market, did ya do some shoppin’?”

              “Yes.”  Ford smiled at Angie.  “And yes, the bag you gave me came in handy.  Thank you.”

              “I’m glad.”  Angie leaned in.  “What did ya buy?”

              “I’ll show you!”  Ford opened the bag and took out the two potions.  They were in nearly identical dark green bottles, as Ford had procured them from the same seller.  But Ford knew which one was which.  He handed over the one he had purchased for Angie.  “This is for you.”

              “Aw, you didn’t need to get me anything!”

              “Yes, I did,” Ford said firmly.  “You have been a rock as of late.  This is the least I can do.”  Angie smiled.

              “Thank you.”  Angie looked down at the label, written in the language of the magical creatures.  “Uh, what is it?”

              “It relieves muscle aches and cramps,” Ford said.

              “Oh, that’s perfect, I been strugglin’ with that,” Angie said softly.

              “It’s also apparently a sleeping elixir.  It should give you peaceful, dreamless sleep,” Ford continued.  Angie set the potion by her book and wrapped her arms around Ford.

              “Honey, that’s exactly what I need right now, thank you!”

              “It’s no problem,” Ford said, returning the hug.  Angie squeezed him, then let go.  “You should get some rest.”

              “I don’t know.”  Angie looked over in the direction of the front door.  “Stan ain’t back yet.”

              “I’ll stay up for him.”  Ford patted Angie’s hand.  “Go to bed.”  Angie chuckled softly.

              “All right, all right.”  Angie kissed the top of Ford’s head.  “I’m goin’ to try this here potion out and get some shut-eye.”

              “Good night.”

              “Good night.”  Angie got up from the couch and departed for her room, leaving her book behind.  Ford pulled his potion out of the bag.  He stared at it.

              No.  I should wait.  After a moment, he shrugged and picked up Angie’s book, opening it to the first page.  The font was maddeningly blurry with his poor amphibious eyesight.  …Never mind.  Ford looked around, spotted the TV remote on the back of the couch, and grabbed it.  Television it is.

-----

              “Is the coffee done yet?” Stan asked tiredly.  He yawned.  “I really need a cuppa.”

              “It should be ready soon,” Ford replied, stifling a yawn of his own.  He was feeling the effects of his late night.  “Is Angie still asleep?”

              “Dunno.”  Stan stretched.  The motion pulled the edge of his T-shirt up past his belly button.  “If she is, that’s weird.  She’s usually up at the ass crack of dawn.”

              “Yes, well, she comes from a farming family,” Ford mumbled.  Stan grunted wordlessly.  There was a shout from upstairs.  Stan and Ford locked eyes.  “That came from Angie’s room.”

              “But that wasn’t Angie,” Stan said.  “That was a guy.”  A second passed.  The twins abruptly bolted from the kitchen, coffee forgotten.  They sprinted up the stairs to the attic.  A strange man stood in front of Angie’s mirror and dresser, staring at his reflection.  He looked at the two.  Ford came to a stop.  The man looked eerily familiar.

              “Fiddleford?” Ford asked.  The man, panic in his eyes, looked over at the mirror again as though not familiar with his reflection.

              “I- I reckon I look awful sim’lar to him,” the man said in a quavering, heavily accented voice.  “But I-”  Whatever he was about to say was cut off by Stan slamming him against the wall.  “What in the sam hill-”

              “Who are you?” Stan snarled.

              “I’m-”

              “What did you do with Angie?”

              “What?” the man asked, sounding both perplexed and terrified.  Ford glanced over at the dresser.  A dark green bottle sat next to Angie’s moisturizer and sunscreen.  Ford frowned.  He picked it up.

              “I’ll ask a second time, but I won’t ask a third,” Stan ground out.  “Where.  Is.  Angie?”

              “I’d tell ya if ya let me get a word in edgewise!” the man snapped.  Ford read the label on the bottle, his mouth silently forming the words.  He felt the blood drain from his face.

              “Talk faster, then!” Stan shouted.

              “Stan,” Ford croaked.  Stan looked over.  “Stan, leave him alone.”       

              “But-”

              “Come here.  You need to read this,” Ford said firmly.  Stan shot a glare at the man, but let him go.  He stalked over to Ford.  Ford held out the bottle.  Stan squinted at the label.

              “What the hell does this say and what does it have to do with some guy in Angie’s room?” Stan asked.

              “I forgot you couldn’t read the language of magical creatures,” Ford mumbled.  He adjusted his glasses.  “This is a potion I purchased in the Crawlspace last night.  One of two, actually.  I bought one for Angie as a pain and cramp reliever.  I bought the second one to, ah, study at home.”

              “Which one is this one?” Stan asked.

              “Not the one I intended to give Angie.”

              “So it’s not to help with pain,” Stan said.  Ford shook his head.  “What does it do?”  Ford rubbed the back of his neck.  “Stanford,” Stan said, a dangerous edge creeping into his voice, “what potion did you give her?”

              “It- it purports to be a, ah, transformative elixir,” Ford stammered.  “It can transform men into women.”  He winced.  “And it can also do the reverse.”  Stan and Ford looked at the strange man.  The man blushed, his entire face beet red.  He was wearing Angie’s typical choice of pajamas: an old T-shirt and athletic shorts.  Though he was holding up the athletic shorts, as they were loose on his narrow hips.

              “…Angie?” Stan asked.  The man somehow turned even redder.

              “Y-yes,” he squeaked out.  Stan pinched the bridge of his nose.

              “Holy Moses, Sixer.  You turned her into a guy!”

              “I know, I-” Ford started.  He took a deep breath.  “I must have mixed up the bottles.  My vision in my other form is too poor to make out small lettering.”  He looked at Angie.  “Don’t worry, we’ll figure this out.”  Angie nodded.  “Get dressed, then you can meet us downstairs.”  Angie glanced over at his closet doubtfully.  “Ah, get dressed as well as you can.”

              “We’ll get you something to fit you better later,” Stan added.  He shot Ford a look.  “Ford’s paying.”  Ford resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

              “S-sounds good,” Angie mumbled.  He cleared his throat.  “K-kindly leave so’s I can, uh, get- get ready ‘n whatnot.”

              “Yes, of course,” Ford said with a nod.  He grabbed Stan and pulled his twin downstairs.  When they got to the ground floor, Stan looked back up the stairs, a pensive expression on his face.  “What?”

              “Is it just me, or does Angie make a damn cute guy?” Stan asked softly.  Ford thought back to the brief glimpses he’d gotten earlier.  His ears grew warm.

              No, it’s not just him.

-----

              “I still can’t believe you turned Angie into a guy,” Stan muttered as he flipped a pancake on the stove.  Ford sighed.

              “It was an accident and I’m incredibly distressed this happened as well.”  There was a polite cough.  Stan and Ford looked over.  Angie stood in the doorway.  While his shirt was the appropriate size, if fitting oddly, the jeans he wore were a few inches too short and loose around the hips, needing a belt.  “We need to get you some new clothes.”  Angie’s face fell.

              “I’m guessin’ that means ya won’t be able to get me back to normal any time soon,” he said softly.  While lower than before, his voice was still higher than average for a man, and had a melodic lilt to it, likely due to his accent.

              “Unfortunately, no,” Ford confirmed.  Angie sighed and sat next to him at the table.  Ford silently noted, to his amusement, that despite Angie’s visible distress, he had made sure to follow his regular morning hygiene routine, with his face clean and his hair carefully styled.  “I looked more closely at the label and instructions.  You drank enough of the potion to keep you in this form for three days.”  Angie stared at him.

              “Three days?!”

              “Don’t worry,” Ford said quickly, holding up his hands.  “I’ll return to the Crawlspace tonight and speak to the seller.  He may have something to reverse the effects of the potion early.”

              “I’m comin’ with.”

              “Humans aren’t allowed.”

              “I can wear some of those Star Trek ears ya got in yer closet and pretend to be an elf,” Angie scoffed.  “Maybe throw some pixie dust over me to get that supernatural sparkle.”  Stan snorted.  Ford frowned.

              “I suppose that could work.  But why do you want to come?”

              “Ya mixed stuff up from yer bad axolotl vision.  I don’t want to risk another mixup.”

              “Ah.”  Ford shifted uncomfortably in his seat.  “…Fair.”  Angie sighed.

              “I weren’t tryin’ to hurt yer feelin’s…”

              “No, I’m- I’m fine,” Ford said quickly.  Angie gave him a look that suggested he didn’t buy it.  Stan cleared his throat.

              “By the way,” he drawled, “I heard the toilet flush.”  Angie covered his face with his hands.  “Whattaya think of the new…equipment?”

              “You don’t need to answer that,” Ford said quickly.

              “Oh, I weren’t plannin’ on it,” Angie said, his voice muffled by his hands.  “Stanley, ya can’t just ask someone that!”

              “Aw, come on.  We’re all guys here!”

              “Stan…” Ford said in a warning tone.

              “Fine, fine.  I’ll shut up.”  Stan placed a plate of pancakes in front of Angie.  “Eat up, Angie,” he said.  He frowned.  “Uh.  Should we call you something else until you’re back to normal?”

              “That sounds like a good idea,” Angie said.  He rubbed the back of his neck.  “It- it feels awful odd to be referred to as Angie when I’m, um, this.”

              “Banjo, perhaps?” Ford suggested.  Angie nodded slowly.

              “I like it.”  Angie- Banjo looked at Stan with a frown.  “Somethin’ wrong?”  Stan was watching with a frown of his own.

              “Why the hell did Ford suggest Banjo and why the fuck did you agree to it?”

              “Oh, that’s right, I ain’t told ya what Angie is short fer yet,” Banjo said.

              “I thought it was short for Angela.”

              “No.  It’s short fer Banjolina,” Banjo said, beginning to cut up one of his pancakes.  Stan raised an eyebrow.

              “What the hell kinda name is Banjolina?”

              “A McGucket one,” Ford and Banjo said together.  Banjo shot a grin at Ford.  Ford felt butterflies in his stomach.

              Oh, no.  Please don’t let this be a pattern.

-----

              Banjo laughed goodnaturedly.

              “No, I ain’t wearin’ the hat!” he said, playfully shoving Stan.

              “C’mon!” Stan wheedled.  “I paid for it with my own money!  You’ve gotta wear it!”

              “I believe I was the one to pay for it,” Ford said.  Stan rolled his eyes.

              “You pay me, so I paid for it.”

              “That’s not how it-”  Ford cut himself off, shaking his head.  “Stop bothering Banjo.”

              “He’s laughing, he’s having a good time.”

              “I ain’t annoyed, Stanford,” Banjo said.  “I’ll let Stanley know if I reach that point.”

              “Hmph.  Very well,” Ford muttered.  After breakfast, they went shopping for clothes for Banjo.  At first, Banjo insisted that they spend as little time as possible out and about while he was in his current form.  But once he was wearing clothes that fit him, he calmed down significantly, even allowing Stan to talk him into going out for lunch and walking around Main Street after.  Now, Stan was desperately trying to convince Banjo to wear the cowboy hat he had Ford purchase a few minutes ago.

              I didn’t even realize there was a western store in town.  But they had passed it while walking down Main Street, and when Banjo slowed down to admire the clothing in the display window, Ford insisted they go inside and find something for him.  I feel like I need to make up for what happened.  Though he seems remarkably unperturbed by this experience.  A tendril of frustration began to uncurl in Ford’s gut.  Why is he so blasé? 

              “You already got me to wear the cowboy boots,” Banjo said.

              “But your jeans completely cover them up!” Stan protested.

              “You should’ve considered that when ya told me to wear ‘em now,” Banjo retorted with a grin.  Stan huffed.  Banjo tossed his head, laughing.  His caramel-colored hair bounced from the movement, drawing Ford’s eye.  It was agonizing how much Banjo resembled Fiddleford.

              I didn’t realize how much I missed F until I was reminded of him every time Banjo did something.  Hopefully, the painful reminders would slow, now that Banjo was dressed.  His fashion sense was different from Fiddleford’s, other than the same predilection for flared jeans.  At the moment, Banjo was wearing a green flannel shirt with a simple orange undershirt.  A far cry from F’s flamboyant tops.

              “I reckon we should head back soon,” Banjo drawled.  He tucked his hands into his back pockets.  “The full moon will be risin’ ‘fore we know it.”

              “Please, we’ve got plenty of time,” Stan said dismissively.  “I think we should go get a drink.”

              “Hmm.”  Banjo titled his head and smiled at Stan.  “I don’t know ‘bout that.  I ain’t in the mood to deal with two drunk fellers on my own.”

              “You don’t drink?”

              “No, I do.”  Banjo’s smile broadened.  “I do it very well.”

              “Oh, I get it.  You think you could outdrink me.”

              “Wrong.”  Banjo leaned in.  Thanks to his new height - which he seemed very pleased with - his face was mere inches away from Stan’s.  “I know I can outdrink ya.”  A goofy grin spread across Stan’s face, accompanied by a faint flush.  Ford recognized the expression.  It was the same one Stan made every time Carla McCorkle ran her hands through his hair or kissed him on the cheek.  Ford thought back to what Stan had said earlier that day.

              “Is it just me, or does Angie make a damn cute guy?”

              Oh, no.  No.  Please tell me Stan isn’t developing a crush on Banjo!  Sweet Moses, this could turn messy fast.  For one thing, he won’t stay Banjo, he’ll return to being Angie!  Ford cleared his throat.  Banjo and Stan looked at him.

              “I believe we have enough time to make one more stop before returning home,” he said.  Stan punched the air.

              “Yes!  We can get wasted.”

              “No, we cannot,” Ford said firmly.  Stan blew a raspberry at him.

              “Killjoy.  What are we gonna do, then?”

              “There’s a bakery a few blocks from here,” Banjo suggested.  Stan perked up.

              “Bakery?  Hell yes!”  Stan sped up his pace eagerly.  Banjo chuckled.  He and Ford fell into step alongside each other.

              “That brother of yours is quite the character,” he said with a smile.  “Luckily, he’s the kind of character I tend to be fond of.”

              “Really,” Ford said flatly.  With the continuation of Banjo’s casual attitude, the frustration Ford felt earlier was beginning to fester.  Banjo looked at him, bemused.

              “Somethin’ wrong?”

              “I’m just-”  Ford took a steadying breath.  “I’m just perplexed at how easy going you are being about- about-”

              “About bein’ Banjo?” Banjo asked.  He frowned.  “Look, I ain’t happy ‘bout it.”

              “Could have fooled me,” Ford said under his breath.  Banjo ignored his comment.

              “I just reckon it’d be a waste of my time ‘n energy to be overly upset,” he continued.  “I can’t do anything ‘bout it right now, so why get all worked up?  At least, now that I’ve had some time to adjust.”  Banjo put his hands on his hips.  “And what’s with that lil remark ‘bout me not seemin’ unhappy?  Didn’t ya hear me shout this mornin’?  Didn’t ya see how distraught I was?”

              “And yet you don’t appear upset at all,” Ford said snidely.  Banjo clenched his hands into fists.

              “It’s called actin’, Stanford!  Actin’ like I’m fine to make sure the boat don’t get rocked!  It’s a skill I’ve developed while I take care of you ‘n Stanley!”

              Ford scowled at him. “We don’t need babysitting,” he said shortly.  Banjo stopped walking to face Stanford squarely.

              “Really? Might I remind ya of the argument you and Stanley had not a month ago?” he retorted.  Ford’s brow furrowed further.

              “I was stuck as an axolotl for a week at that point! I had been to the vet on two separate occasions and was completely useless at home! I was getting frustrated and needed to vent!”  As he spoke, his voice rose without his noticing it. 

              “So what’s frustratin’ ya now?! Yer not an axolotl and ya won’t be for another hour, so what’s eatin’ at ya?”  Banjo’s voice was beginning to rise as well. The few passersby slowed down to stare, bewildered by the odd conversation.

              “YOU are INFURIATING me!” shouted Ford. “For Pete’s sake! You’ve been a man for less then a day and are already comfortable in your new skin! You’ll be back to normal in a few days while I’ll still be cursed to be an amphibian for the rest of my damn life!”

              An eerie silence circled them. 

              “Son of a-  I’ve been cursed for half a year and I’m still uncomfortable in my second skin! I have to eat bugs! I have to sleep in water! My skin itches! I hate it! And here you are in the middle of town having the time of your life!”  Ford was panting by the time he was done, looming over Banjo.  Waves of heat washed inside of him, crashing against rising shame.

              “Stanford?” came Stan’s voice behind him.  He must have come back after he realized Ford and Banjo weren’t following him anymore.

              “What?”  Ford turned around to face his twin.  He didn’t want to look at Banjo, not with the mist in the other man’s eyes.  Stan gestured to the sides of his head.

              “Um, your, uh, your gills are- are out.”

              Panic washed over Ford as he raised his hands to the side of his face.  He could feel the gills, six in total with three on each side, squirming.  His ears were already gone. He then heard it before he could feel it. There was a pop and rip followed by a burning sensation at the base of his spine when his tail, big, round, and pink erupted.  Ford fell to his hands and knees.  The entirety of his body was aching and tingling.

              What’s going on?  The full moon hasn’t risen yet!  A new worry filled Ford with horror.  We’re in public!  People could be watching!  He looked around, but already his vision was worsening. Soon he felt his glasses slipping as his nose disappeared.  From what he could make out, it appeared that only Stan and Banjo were currently present.  But they were on Main Street.  At any moment, someone could stumble across them.

              “Banjo, what should we do?” Stan asked.  Banjo stayed silent.  “Banjo?”

              “The two of ya can figure it out,” Banjo said, his voice thick.  “I’ll meet ya back at the car.”  Ford watched Banjo’s blurry figure walk away.

              “...Great,” Stan sighed.  He looked down at Ford on the ground.  “I’m gonna, uh, move you out of the way, okay?”  Ford nodded weakly.  Judging by how loose his clothes had gotten, he had already shrunk to half his size.  This conclusion was proven accurate when Stan picked him up and carried him into a nearby alleyway, both of them ducking behind a large dumpster. As soon as Stan dropped him to the ground, Ford fell on his side, his body continuing to morph into a new form. He struggled to his shifting feet.

              “How are we going to get back to the car?” Ford asked, his voice breaking into a higher pitch. He hugged his sides and hissed through his teeth as waves of heat washed over his body. His tail curled around him, grazing his calf.

              “Uh.”  Stan looked around.  “There’s a big box here.  It looks clean enough.  Once you’re done, you can climb inside and I’ll cover you with your clothes.”

              “Okay.”  Ford grunted as he felt his bones shift.  “I really wish I wasn’t transforming in a dirty alleyway.”

              “Eh, I’ve seen worse places to turn into a giant salamander,” Stan said with a shrug.  He scratched his chin.  “You- you really tore Banjo a new one back there.  What was that about?”

              Despite the pain, Stanford felt his whole body freeze in place. 

              “How much of the argument did you hear?”

              “Only the end of it, really.  Something about him having the time of his life?”

              “I…”  Ford sighed.  “I let my temper get the better of me.”

              “No shit.  I figured out that much on my own,” Stan scoffed.  “Why were you angry at him?”

              “I’m just…frustrated.  He’s doing perfectly fine right now, and I- I’m not.”

              “What are you talking about?” Stan asked quietly.  “You think he’s doing fine?”

              “He’s joking and laughing with you.” Ford hissed as a particularly painful shift rearranged his jaw. 

              “Yeah, but it’s mostly anxious laughter.  He’s had that scared deer look in his eyes all day.  And he starts shaking if we stand still for too long.  My guess, Banjo’s roughly one dropped ice cream cone away from having a nervous breakdown.”  Stan looked over at Ford.  “You really didn’t notice?”

              “No!  I- I thought he was taking his current circumstance in stride.”  Ford winced, both from the pain of his transformation and the sting of just how poorly he had read Banjo’s body language.  “I should have consulted you earlier.  You were always better with people.”

              “Eh.  Neither of us have ever been good at the whole communicating thing,” Stan said.  Ford sighed.

              “Correct.”

              “So, uh, are you done?” Stan asked.  Ford moved his body tentatively.  His legs, arms, head, and tail responded.  The prickling that accompanied the end of his transformation had faded.  And he could barely see a few inches in front of him.

              “It appears that I am.” His voice was completely changed. 

              “Good.  Step outta your clothes while I get the box.”  Ford did as instructed and shimmed out of his now oversized sweater.  When Stan came back with the box, he climbed inside.  Stan covered him with his clothes.  “Eugh, they got all slimy!”

              “I produce a mucosal secretion from my skin during times of high stress,” Ford mumbled automatically.  It was one of the things Angie had noted during her time studying Ford’s amphibious form before Stan joined them.

              “It’s gross,” Stan said firmly.  Ford felt the box rise off the ground.  He curled up, his stomach churning from distress as he was carried back to the car.  After a few minutes of Ford bouncing and sliding around in the box, Stan came to a stop.  “Hey, Banj.”

              “Banj?” Banjo’s voice said.  Ford covered his eyes with his paws, overcome by guilt.  Banjo’s voice was weak, as though he had just been crying.

              “Short for Banjo.”

              “Banjo’s already short fer my proper name.”

              “Someone can have two nicknames.”

              “Hmm.  Fair enough,” Banjo said.  Ford mustered some courage and poked his head up through the clothes.  Banjo, blurry, stood a few feet away, leaning against the Stanmobile.  “Hello.”

              “Banjo, I-”

              “I’m goin’ to act as though the last fifteen or so minutes didn’t happen,” Banjo interrupted.  “At least, fer now.  We’ve got to head back to the Crawlspace to see if anyone can get me back to rights.”  Though Ford couldn’t see Banjo’s blue eyes, he could still feel them boring into him.  “Will you agree to act that way as well?”

              “Yes,” Ford squeaked pathetically.  Banjo nodded.  Stan unlocked the car and slid the box holding Ford into the back seat.  Ford waited for Banjo to sit next to him.  His heart sank as Banjo opened the passenger’s side door and sat up front with Stan instead.  Even without saying a word, his change in behavior spoke volumes. Ford curled up tighter, a soft whimper escaping from him.

              He’s furious. With me.

[creativesplat]

Inspired by the soul crushingly sad au by @yujateaandpi , Dipper visiting Stan during the thirty years Mabel and Ford were missing.

I would recommend it if you want to have a cry.

The design for Dipper is Yujanteaandpi's, but Stan hasn't made an appearance yet, so I did the best I could! (ps. I have just realised that drawing wrinkles is a lot of fun)

[bucketfullofstrawberries]

Today I shall be explaining how Edgar (Narrator), Mae (Curator) AND Inferos (TK) came to be.

Everyone buckled in? All ready? Alright! Here we GO—

The Creation Process / History.

Many millennia ago, The Universe was simply a mish mash of chemical compounds. Molecules weren't even established to be, they just simply.. Existed! It's unknown where the existence of everything had originated from. Now, there are many theories that hold up ideas of the origins of everything. Most Famously discussed being, of course, The Big Bang, estimated to have occurred 13.8 Billion years ago.

The Universe allegedly began as a tiny, high-density fireball, which spontaneously combusted and thus expanded as space. The Universe cooled in time, and with cooler conditions The First, simple elements began to form; Hydrogen, Helium and Lithium. Hydrogen being the main factor of the three. Gradually, gravity drew matter together which supposedly formed The First Stars & Galaxies. From here, Galaxies collected into into a mixture of Groups, Clusters & Superclusters, whereas some stars started to die within Supernova Explosions; their chemical remnants begun seeding new generations of stars, bringing their legacies to be long lasting but ALSO enabling the formation of New, rocky Planets. And one of those Planets, of course, just so happened to be Earth.

Now, somewhere, in-between all the kerfuffle, situated within the plentiful explosions and deaths of Stars and such alike , Larger Stars had begun to Collapse at the end of their Life Cycles. This brought into existence the first Black Hole. Now, A Black Hole, By Google Definition; A region of spacetime where gravity is so strong & nothing, including light & other electromagnetic waves, has enough energy to escape it.

The Theory of General Relativity predicts that a sufficiently compact mass can deform spacetime to form a black hole. At the time, obviously, these were a Rare Phenomena in the passing time of Space, and so contact with them involving an involuntary object had a slim chance of creating some Huge Reaction, seeing as Black Holes quite literally "Eat", in layman's terms, anything in its path. Nothing in existence, at that time, had ever had such a Strong Energy Scale to Escape, let alone Combat the likes of a Black hole. So nothing was capable of stopping them on their Daunting Path of Destruction. That is, until the introduction of an unfamiliar, foreign object in spacetime.

┈┈・୨ ✦ ୧・┈┈

Lucidae Ignis in Aeternum, L.I.A.

[ ❝ Lucidae ❞,The term given the Brightest Star of a Constellation, Latin origins; the feminine singular of ❝ Lūcidus ❞, meaning ❝ Bright, Shining ❞ , ❝ Ignis in Aeternum. ❞, Latin origins; Meaning ❝ Fire Forever ❞, or rather ❝ Eternal Fire ❞ ]

This star-like-Giant of the Galaxian Empire was the largest existing ball of burning plasma known currently to Particular Knowledge of some, beating the Current Largest Known Star, UY Scuti, a Red Hypergiant standing at 1.188 Billion Kilometres, and somehow forming to be 156 Trillion Kilometres in size. That, in itself, is large enough to fit Five of our Solar System's within, and then some. It seems impossible, but at the same time. Existence as a whole is nothing far from what one would consider impossible. Yet here we are. Within Galaxies and Galaxies, Universes and Universes filled with who knows what.

Perhaps Stars even Bigger than LIA lie out there. Somewhere. LIA, as been theorised, has been said to of formed from Two Red Dying Hypergiants drawing close enough to one another at similar Low Levels of Combustion & existing at a Semi-Molten state to Weld Together, when Gravitational Forces between the two were strong enough to drawn one another in. This process of welding them to one another causes a sort of Infinitely Regenerative Source of Plasma Energy to power both stars and eventually merge them into one massive Hypergiant reaching lengths beyond general comprehension.

..............................................................................................................................

It just so happens that both LIA, and The Black Hole, which was later on dubbed Nexis, a relatively small black hole compared to ones that may exist today, co-exist in the same region of space, which would inevitably cause their paths to collide, one way or another. Time goes by, space goes on. And it's not long before Nexis's strengthening pull manages to catch LIA in its undefeated fury.

But, being such a large supply of energy, The Strength of Nexis must be pushed to its extremes to be able to reel in this Goliath for its own personal gain. And so, the two fought for their individual, eternal reign. Like warriors. Until both succumbed. They collapsed onto one another. And something new was born.

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In some Stories, Folk Law & Myths carried across galaxies, it's been told through generations that these two Beasts of the Dark may have not been just... heartless monoliths, doing what they did simply because that's how things worked. Without any true, meaningful purpose other than just. To be.

As a matter of fact, It's strongly believed, by the few that tell the tales of the Universe, that these Giants had souls. Souls that had driving motives. Souls that felt for one another. And some found that tale to be as beautiful as it sounds.

And, if those tales were to be found true.. then it surely was. Tales etched into stone, written in old Greek, are the best source we currently have that depicts such a story. After thorough translation, this is what story was once told to be, and laughed at by the faces of many other highly religious figures;

❝ In the Times of Dark and Treacherous, the Lights of the Night were Dark & the Skies were Scary, Humanity was yet to be shaped out of the mud, and everything was Unorganized and Frail. Before our figures of Hierarchy came to be and ruled over our land, Two only dwelled in the Blank Canvas of The Dark. Brave Warriors. Who fought to keep Balance.

Elpída, Guardian of Distant Hope and Eternal Life, she fought for honour, to keep Light burning so the Dark would be luminous.

Maraíno, Executioner of Decay and Damnation, she fought for Power and took Life to Reign.

The Two Warriors Danced a Deadly Dance to Glorify their Ambitions in an Infinite Ballroom. It was a Fierce Battle. It was a Valiant Battle. And it kept Peace.

Their Battle could have been Eternal, everlasting, but at a point they both grew weak. Energy was forced to be used sparingly. Both that once wielded power and thrived off of it had turned that power into a channel for spite, a fuel for meaningless rage, and thus was no longer fruitful.

And once she had become frail, The Light of Elpída was dim. And the Hope she sought out to keep alive felt dismissed.

Maraíno cried out to their rival as they both came to a halt;

' The Light I once seeked from you to take has dimmed. And so it holds no value to me. So tell me, Darling Light, Why do I still seek you? '.

The Guardian answered with but another question;

' The Destruction you brought onto the existence of life has long since stopped as you have grown weaker. And you concentrate your time on my defeat. Yet, Why do I still fight you? '.

The Executioner had no answer to offer. And pondered upon this riddling response. And The Guardian spoke once more.

' Perhaps we fought for our ambitions once long ago, but I don't believe that to be the truth as we speak. ' she said, drawing closer to The Dark. Yet The Executioner did not try to defend itself. She allowed the touch of The Light to meet its faltering visage.

' Perhaps we fight now because we do not wish to be alone. I am the Light that illuminates you. Your soul encapsulates me. I have fought against it.. but now I fight to stay beside it. '. Once again, The Executioner could not reply. But it seemed as true to the two of them, whether they were to come to an agreement on the matter or not.

The battle had ended as suddenly as it had sprouted. The two held a gentle embrace around one another and uttered . And with the last of what they had, a spark in the Universe lit. And The True Empress that breathed life into our bodies had been born d from their dying light. It was born from two set souls, souls that had found their true purpose. To make life flourish. And to leave the Universe with company. With Life. With Hope. ❞

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This tale has long since been forgotten, and remembering it at any point should be taken with a grain of salt. Believe it as simply a mystery of space, or as a story of great ambition. Either way, what remains true is that both entities collided. And with that collision birthed an unusual form of life, something that was capable of capturing, creating, controlling. It was a mighty force.

It's believed, but not confirmed, by some that the fusion of both Hypergiant's actually caused the LIA’s core to become a type of White Hole, or at the very least something similar, as it did not collapse onto itself but instead rebirthed as something entirely new, and phenomenal at that. But the interruption of Plasma from LIA’s outer surface prevented any sort of Wormhole from forming.

It, instead, forced remaining light nuclei to merge with one another simultaneously, forming dozens of heavier nuclei that released enough energy to be able to bond with early specimens of hard light collected together in a nearby nebula ; ultimately creating an infinite, solidified source of energy that had someone managed to become its own organism.

This Theory stands as The Theory of Everlasting Creation, and believes in the existence of an all-powerful, essentially living, thinking organism that holds the ability to create existing, and even non-existing, elements, substances, materials, mixtures and compounds at will, with no finite limitations on how much it may create or be capable of creating, as well as also being able to deconstruct and destroy the prior at the same time.

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With all of this established, we may now bring our focus on this ‘hypothetical’ organism, or some may even refer to it as a Deity of sorts.

In Theory, this natural phenomena has created a God. It cannot die. And it can exist for eternity. With its purpose being to keep balance, and create. If it so chose to take that path.Thus, making it the perfect candidate for a Godly Figure. And in the future, it might just have been considered one by a select few. Early Astronomers who sought out the mysteries of space, perhaps. Who’s to say?

This being would be referred to as “The Creator” when humanity caught onto its presence, which was certainly fitting, considering the circumstances. However, long before humanity even had a name, the being itself had already come to find an alias of its own. It called itself “Mae”. Which would later be established as a word that correlates to “God/Goddess”, or “Beautiful”, in Gaelic/Celtic meanings. Or “Mother” in Portuguese; also oddly fitting. For more reasons than one. Which brings us to our next point:

What she created.

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Now, obviously, there came a point in time where living organisms had begun their own evolutionary pipeline. This was not brought upon the universe by the likes of she. As a matter of fact, this evolutionary advancement is something that fascinated her. Despite being an overpowering organism of creation, these life forms had formed themselves all on their own. She had no involvement with it whatsoever. And that alone caught her attention. In no time, she’d become fixated on this Planet and its independent growth. Even during the early stages of life, she kept a watchful eye on every little detail.

Single-celled organisms were fruitful and multiplied into multicellular life. From here, these organisms branched off into a vast variety of Chordata, which were primarily based in bodies of water and adapted to such in terms of diet and anatomical structure. Her attachment to these organisms grew further as she saw their development now leading into much more complex territory; Tetrapoda now becoming part of the equation as four-limbed vertebrate, which had not only become amniotes as they started to roam the land, but had also began to become more adapted to both aquatic and land based worlds in order to branch of FURTHER than what was initial expected.

The introduction to land brought upon more evolutionary expansion. The planet was now given Mammalia and Primates. They were full-on land dwellers at this point, roaming the Earth freely and seeking out new places to thrive and evolve further than they already had. And from there, amidst the rest of the world’s wonders, we were given the beginning of the Human Race… and they turned out to be a species the god had become quiet.. QUITE.. infatuated with..

She admired them.. From the way they came to be to the fact that they, too, were capable of creating things if they really set their minds to it..

They were interesting little things. She felt linked to them in ways that were difficult to describe.

And through keen observation, taking note of their strengths and their flaws, and discovering what exactly brought them such differentiating characteristics and experiences, she had an idea beginning to spark.

She wanted to create something like them.

She wanted to create an ideal model.. The PERFECT humane specimen..

Something that was so similar to their kind yet so completely different at the same time. Something that had their traits but something she could teach to achieve things like she could.

..............................................................................................................................

So, with that brewing idea in mind, she began to experiment.

Surprisingly, despite Mae being perceived as something to be high and mighty and capable of pretty much anything, there were a lot of failed attempts & mistakes in the process. Obscure looking body shapes, a multitude of mish-mashed limbs, misplaced facial features that made her creations look uncanny.

But the main problem was that despite the effort she put into each individual attempt – none of them were capable of living freely. Which was the beautiful thing about humanity; they had their own desires, thoughts, ambitions and feelings. They did what they wished to do of their own accord. Nothing held them back.

And it had nothing to do with having a functioning mind. Or a beating heart. If anything, things like that were a primary human set-back. She knew this.

But the question was what exactly CRAFTED them into their own, distinct person if it wasn’t the thoughts of the mind or the life pumped into their hearts.

Eventually, though, she discovered that indescribable something simply by digging deeper. Thinking outside of the box, so to speak.

Each life on Earth appeared to have their own respective source of internal light. It was an incomprehensible thing to most, undiscovered by man and embedded deep within the heart & mind. But somehow, Mae was able to wrap her head around its existence.

A soul.

A magical thing. Founded upon clusters of stardust cumulated together in the central core of billions upon trillions spread out across universes.

Every soul was unique to its bodily host. Not a single soul was the same. Each feeling and experiencing things differently to one another.

A soul was something ever changing, that may link with another soul if bonds were grown enough to pull them together. Once a soul had linked with another, it was almost impossible to separate them. Only if the negative forces of attraction between souls grew too fierce would a soul be forced to separate.

Mae had discovered this phenomenon to be Soulmating. And it came in a multitude of different forms. Alongside hundreds and hundreds of differentiating characteristics that made up what a soul was.

These souls were intricate. And beautiful. And it was something Mae came to find precious.

And thus, she set herself the task to try and replicate such a thing. Create that unique essence of life, thriving off of its own undying light.

And eventually, with perseverance, self-encouragement and a hefty amount of elbow grease (despite very much not having elbows),

She did it. She crafted a soul. A perfect soul. A soul full of brilliance and undiscovered mystery. And a body, to keep that soul alive, to give it a face and name. To let it grow as a person. A person. Her own, darling creation. Which she looked upon with pride. And held her hopes high for to achieve the perfection she had perceived. And so, she gave it a name. Amor Aeternus. Which was a mishmash or words curated by the Romans of Earth. Two words, in Latin; Meaning

“Eternal Love”.

That was what it was called. Eternal Love. She had no reasoning as to why she named it this way. But she felt compelled to do so nonetheless.

But oh,

How fitting that name would be… ♡

However that name would one day develop into the man we know now as Edgar Vincent Marlowe... not just a Narrator, but a storyteller...~

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Now, Highlighting THIS aspect;

Amongst all those failed attempts there was merely one out of thousands that was seemingly quite different. To say the least...

One that, miraculously, had a grown consciousness. The ability to live despite, by technicality, being categorized as the unliving. A small soul that formed on its own accord that would never of been noticed because of how fragile and simple it was. Attached to this unflattering malgamation of a body that was just BARELY keeping onto a humanoid figure.

...and yet, despite its perseverance to live; it never was noticed.

In fact, it was completely disregarded... and forgotton.

But this soul saw everything it could of had. And this soul never forgot. Never forgot how its chance at life was taken from hands of boiling flesh and instead given to another. Something more appealing. More successful. More putridly perfect.

And in itself it grew to hate. It grew to be full of jealousy. To be scornful, and full to the brim with resentment towards the being that he could of been. With a want to tear down everything that this Prince of The Stars had acquired and someday take his place. Show the universe that he WAS worthy of that status. He was special & capable enough to experience what this Brother of sorts of his had already experienced.

And so, he gave himself a name. To express his scorching, eternal flame of envious greed in bold. To overdramatize himself and show his self-proclaimed "upper status".

Stella Natum Inferos. (or "Inferos" for short.)

Meaning Star-born Hell Beast.

And this, ladies and gentlemen, is our Keeper of Time. The one who keeps the Wheel Turning and the one who could stop that Wheel at any given moment.

This is the Story of two Brothers, not bonded by blood but the eagerness & naivety of a joint Creator. One, Blissfully unaware and Blessed; Attune to the gift of Giving and a Heart of Gold, a Soul pure and true. The other, Scornfull & Painfully Aware; hateful and seething deep down only wishing for approval, and to be adored.

"The stars made you their own; you are adored and shine bright. I was cast out, sentenced to to be forgotten; denied acknowledgement and stripped of my life. You will always try to find a way to love. I dance with the tangled webs of resentment. You do not know me. I wish I did not live aside you."

And perhaps... this burning hatred held by one shall finally cut through the thin veil that keeps the two apart.

Their story is still being told, after all.....and a Story needs an Ending~

...and ending that may come sooner than possibly anticipated. You'll just have to wait and see.. ♡

☆ ⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂✦ ⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂☆

[sleeplessdreamer14]

Stan: What kind of a maniac wakes up an hour early to write erotic fanfiction?

Ford: Me.

Y/N: Are there any shows or movies left in the world that you haven’t perved up?

Ford: No. That’s why I’ve started writing erotic friend fiction, using people at school and cryptids.

Fiddleford: Oh, do the janitor and the vice principal! I think they’d have beautiful children.

Ford: I did, and they don’t.

[imaredshirt]

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Gravity Falls Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Fiddleford H. McGucket/Stan Pines, Ford Pines & Stan Pines, Fiddleford H. McGucket & Ford Pines Characters: Stan Pines, Ford Pines, Fiddleford H. McGucket, Dipper Pines, Mabel Pines Additional Tags: Diary/Journal, Experimental Style, Alternate Universe - Mystery Trio (Gravity Falls), Unreliable Narrator, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, POV First Person, Slow Burn, Getting Together, Enemies to Lovers Summary:

Herein lies supplementary journal entries presumably written by the Author of the Journals. The one who found these entries (hereafter referred to as The Discoverer) meticulously arranged and taped them all back together, and most of the dirt and dust has been brushed away to reveal notes on yellowing pages.

The Discoverer’s sister would like him to let everyone know that talking about himself in the third person is kind of weird (it’s not!!) and that she calls this whole thing an Old Man Love Story for the Ages. Which. Okay. Mabel, we’re moving on.

[spiritofboredom]

Stating the obvious, I know, but I really wanna say it anyway.

Bill hates Stanley because he sees himself in him. I mean, it's glaringly obvious that Ford and Bill are the same. (Smart guys with big egos, loved by their family but ostracized for their birth defects)

But like, past childhood, Stan and Bill had similar lives. All alone because of something that they didn't mean to do.

Where Stan did all that he could to get back to the family that kicked him out, Bill had nothing and nobody. With nothing to anchor him, what else could have been the outcome for him other than breaking? I mean, everything he's ever known is gone!

Bill and Stan even have the same coping mechanisms, burying away the bad things and moving on. (The secret shames and stuff...)

He can call Stan the lesser twin all he wants, but the fact is, Bill's jealous that Stan managed to get back everything he wanted even after everything that happened to him.

[simping-on-the-daily]

ngl is it like. a twin thing to do everything together??? cuz like the boat was a promise made by very young children, ford could've just. outgrown the dream naturally like how i outgrew wanting to be an astronaut or princess,, like did ford actually genuinely wanna go to west coast and just didn't know how to bring it up or did he just suddenly jump at that opportunity when the opportunity came?? did he feel pressured to keep to a dream he didn't want anymore??? is this just a twin thing cuz i love my sister but we've got many years apart so of course i wouldn't get it???

idk i just don't think ford should be pressured to spend all his life on a boat just to make his brother happy. i don't think you should drop your dream college just to make your brother happy, especially if you've wanted to go there already but couldn't say it because that would make your brother sad. does he want to go on the boat now because he genuinely wants to or purely because he wants to make stan happy???? cuz if he also isn't sharing that dream that just feels. idk. bad???

[earako]

Saw de-aged Stan stuff and wanna join the Ford realizing Stan was a baby when he was kicked out bandwagon

-/-

Their niblings had just celebrated their seventeenth birthday a week ago and Ford couldn't help but think about just how young his niblings are.

Babies...the both of them. It didn't matter if they would be old enough to start college soon, Mabel and Dipper were still children and the thought of either of them on the streets, cold, hungry, and alone filled Ford with a rage so intense he genuinely scared himself.

How anyone could look at a 17 year old child and think that they could survive just fine on their own without a home, friends, family, or a high school diploma truly baffled Ford.

Seventeen...it was right there in the name. Teen. A child. Not an adult.

Seventeen year olds still needed guidance and correction. They still needed to be taught what 'better' meant because how could they know better if they had no reference for what exactly 'better' looked like.

A seventeen year old kicked out on the street nowadays would result in steep consquences for the offending party. There would be an investigation, law enforcement, organizations that didn't really exist back when Ford and Stan were kids would get involved.

Stan...

Stan was seventeen when he was kicked out. Ford used to convince himself that Stan had left willingly. He was too old now to delude himself with that lie.

Stan, little seventeen year old Stanley, was forced out of his home.

Ford tried to imagine Dipper and Mabel out on the streets. He tried to imagine them with Stan's scars, he tried to imagine their niblings scared, paranoid, ravenous hunger making their little teenage frames shake-

"It was wrong."

"Ford?"

"What Filbrick did," Ford growled, turning to face his brother. "What our father did was beyond inappropriate-" Ford gestured to where Mabel and Dipper were passed out on the lawn, napping in the noon day sun.

They wanted to spend one more summer in Gravity falls before heading off to their final year of high school.

They were so young.

Stan was so young.

"You were Mabel and Dipper's age," Ford continued, "It was wrong." To Ford's dismay his brother just shrugged.

"Yeah, well. Different time and all that." Ford pratically bristled at Stan's nonchalant response.

"If what happened to you happened to the twins you'd be furious-hell, I would be furious!"

"Keep it down, pointdexter, you'll wake the kids!" Stan hissed, his eyes darting over to their still asleep niblings. Ford clamped his mouth shut, slowly exhaling, and closed his eyes.

He felt a hand squeeze his shoulder.

Stan.

"Look, I appreciate you going all big brother mode but honestly, what could you have done?"

"I could have stood up to Pa."

"After you thought I had betrayed you?" Ford was silent.

Stan...Stan had a point. Ford was angry and hurting and not thinking about the reprecussions of his fathers actions or of closing the curtains on Stan.

He could have done something though!

...Right?

"Ford, we were the same age. You were a kid too when that happened. We were kids raised with being angry and terrified of our dad as something normal. We couldn't do better then because no one ever showed us what better looked like."

'Like the twins,' went unsaid but Ford already knew thats where Stan's train of thought was headed.

Ironically, their great niece and nephew had to be the ones to show them what an actual loving family looked like.

(No offense to Ma, Ford adored his mother, but she was also a woman of her time...and a compulsive liar...hm...maybe he should take up Shermie on that offer for a therapist recommendation...)

"...I just...seeing now just how young you were..."

"Again, we were the same age, Ford." Ford huffed.

"I still say it was wrong. What Filbrick did."

"I know," Stan said, reaching up to squeeze Ford's shoulder. "Give yourself some slack too, bro. Both of us were young and hurting. But now we're old and making things better." Ford sighed and lightly tapped his fist against Stan's chest.

"And people called you the dumb one?" Stan rolled his eyes and groaned.

"You killed the moment. Good job."

"I try."