#stanley writes stuff

[trekkerac]

Stanley's revival was a very sudden thing because no one wanted to check up on how the revival was going

[blu-engineer]

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

[madbard]

I was just thinking about post-canon Gravity Falls and imagining what would happen if someone mixed up Stan and Ford’s names. (They’re twins and traveling around a lot, it’s bound to happen eventually.)

I think Stan would take it in stride. It’s not his favorite feeling in the world but he spent 30 years going by ‘Stanford’ so he’s used to it by now.

But imagine Ford being called ‘Stanley’ and suddenly remembering the last time he was ‘mistaken’ for his brother. The last time anyone would have associated him with that name - standing in the pyramid, gun in hand, pointed at his brother’s head.

Whoever mixed up their names feels a chill go down their spine as Ford’s features harden, eyes darkening with that memory. His fingers twitch.

Then, just like a storm disintegrating into the sea, the expression is gone, and the two brothers are walking away. They’re talking cheerfully, and from an outsider’s perspective it would seem like nothing’s changed.

But they’re walking a bit closer together than before.

[suck-too-hard-on-your-jaskier]

My partner and I have a funny little AU where Stan tames Bill with good soup and hot chocolate.

Stan also gets a tattoo of a Possum wearing round glasses and a lab coat because it reminded him of Fidds.

Ford has a journal observing how Fiddleford and Stan are around eachother. It's his idiots to lovers journal.

Bill possesses Fiddleford to try and get him to tell Stan he likes him. Ford catches Bill and stops him thinking Bill is going to do something bad. Stan punishes Bill by eating the whole roast chicken, he cooked for him, in front of him.

[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!

[inkyrainstorms]

The Totally Canon Ultimate Friend Group

[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.

[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."

[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

[darlingdaisyfarm]

i think it’s Stan’s time to shine (he deserves more love and i’m here to fix that)

[skeleton---arts]

College boyzzzzzz + a fiddleford in one of my outfits

[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]

Stanuary '25 - Week 4: Healing

I'm a day late but I'm still here! I figured I'd set this one in my Purposeful Abduction AU, in which Ford insists on being abducted by aliens and starts a life on an alien planet as a doctor. Meanwhile, Stan gets abducted by alien traffickers, and manages to escape, but is in very poor shape when he winds up at Ford's hospital.

This prompt is perfect for the AU, and gives me a chance to write Stan's recovery. Which, uh, I wrote a lot of. A lot more words than I thought I would.

Enjoy.

———————————————————————————————————–

              Stan hunched over the sterile, futuristic toilet, trying to fend off another wave of vomit.

              “Are you doing all right in there?” Ford’s voice called. Stan retched again, but nothing came up. He groaned loudly. The door to the tiny hospital bathroom opened.

              “Didn’t say you could come in,” Stan mumbled. Ford pulled him up. Stan’s legs, weak from poison and malnourishment, buckled under him once he was on his feet. “I can make it back to the bed.”

              “Sure,” Ford said, infuriatingly patient. He helped Stan back to his hospital bed. Stan immediately curled up into the fetal position, shivering.

              “You poisoned me, I know it,” Stan muttered under his breath.

              “The opposite,” Ford replied. “The antidote for the toxins you ingested yesterday has strong side effects.”

              “Ugh.”

              “Press the call button if you need to be helped to your bathroom again,” Ford continued. Stan rolled over to glare at him. Ford didn’t react, annoyingly remaining in professional doctor mode. “I’ll increase your fluids to compensate for what you’ve been losing from vomiting.” Finally, Ford looked up from the hologram screen of his clipboard. “Get some rest.”

              “Not much else I can do.”

              “Then you should get very good at it,” Ford said shortly. He turned on his heel and walked out of the room. The door closed behind him. Stan curled up into a ball as his eyes drifted shut.

-----

              The mysterious liquid concoction in the cup in Stan’s hand was purple. A deep, rich purple. Stan looked up at Ford and the fish-headed alien that Ford had brought in as a “refeeding specialist”.

              “You said this was a chocolate milkshake,” he croaked. Like the rest of him, his voice had taken a beating from malnourishment and poisoning. He hadn’t smoked a cigarette in months, but sounded like he went through a pack a day.

              “It is,” Ford said. Stan shook his head.

              “Nuh-uh. You put blueberries in this or something.” After a day in intensive care, he’d been moved to a general care room, to begin treatment that would help him recover properly. Now that he was no longer in danger of dying.

              “Blueberries don’t exist on this planet.”

              “But chocolate does?”

              “Yes!” Ford said, sounding exasperated. “Centuries ago, visitors to Earth collected chocolate plants and brought them back here. The different environment, however, results in cacao beans that are blue, not brown.”

              “This is purple.”

              “The roasting process turns- oh for the love of-” Ford pinched the bridge of his nose. “Just drink the damn thing. Dr. Quartir is a very busy fish who took time out of its day to observe you consume something for the first time in months.”

              “Not the first thing I ate in months,” Stan said under his breath. “I ate that poison hot dog. That’s why I wound up here.”

              “Stop being difficult. You know what I mean. If you keep this down, it will be the first step in being able to eat properly so you can get back to normal. Don’t you want that?” Ford snapped. Stan stared down at the milkshake again. He swallowed.

              “Yeah, I do.”

              “Then drink the damn thing. Slowly.”

              “Bottoms up,” Stan mumbled to himself. His stomach churning, from either nerves or anticipation, he didn’t know which, he brought the cup up to his mouth. The taste was heavenly. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d tasted chocolate so rich. Stan’s eyes widened. He tilted the cup back at a higher angle.

              “Slowly, Stan,” said the fish doctor in its papery thin voice. Stan reluctantly took a small sip instead of the massive gulp he wanted. “Good.” Stan finished the rest of the drink. When he was done, Ford took the cup from him. Dr. Quartir tapped the watchlike band on its wrist. “I’m going to set a timer. If you don’t vomit before it goes off, we can officially introduce ingestible fluids into your diet.”

              “Excellent. Dr. Quartir, should we talk in the hall?” Ford said. “Perhaps give Stan some privacy in case he doesn’t keep it down?”

              “Yes,” Dr. Quartir said. The two exited the hospital room, leaving Stan alone.

              Stan laid back on his bed to stare up at the ceiling. The possibility that he might finally keep something down at this point felt as likely as summiting Mt. Everest.

              But as the minutes passed by and Stan’s stomach didn’t eject its contents, his hopes rose.

              Finally, the door opened. Ford and the fish walked inside.

              “Well?” Ford asked. Stan sat up, unable to fight the grin spreading across his face.

              “Keep the milkshakes coming.”

-----

              Stan grabbed the twin rails. Taking a deep breath, he pulled himself up out of the hover chair to wobbly stand on his feet.

              “Excellent, Stan, but remember, you have to use your upper body and lower body strength,” said the physical therapist, whom Stan had mentally dubbed Dr. Hardass because he couldn’t remember her alien name. Her voice was robotic, thanks to the translator Stan had to wear to understand and be understood. She was green-skinned, and like the other members of this planet’s dominant species, over seven feet tall.

              Stan had to use the physical therapy equipment designed for children.

              “Even before everything happened, my arms were stronger than my legs,” Stan argued. Dr. Hardass shook her head.

              “Perhaps. But I imagine that your legs could still bear your weight and move you forward,” she pointed out. Stan grit his teeth. “We are focusing upon getting you walking. You cannot rely upon your arms. Now. Come towards me.” Stan muttered a few choice words under his breath. “Stan. If you do not start now, you may never do so.”

              “Fine,” Stan griped. He took a deep breath.

              Your arms are there to help, not to be the only way you stay up. Stan lessened how much he was reliant upon his arms. Immediately, being upright became a lot harder. Fuck. C’mon. You can do this. One foot in front of the other.

              The first step was agonizing. Stan felt like his knees were going to buckle. The second step wasn’t any better. He could practically hear his ankles screaming at him.

              Ultimately, Stan only made it halfway to Dr. Hardass before he had to call it quits.

              “You are doing better,” Dr. Hardass said as she helped him back into the hover chair. “You have a great amount of resilience. Much more than I usually see from my patients.”

              “...Really?” Stan said doubtfully. Dr. Hardass nodded.

              “Before you know it, you will be jogging again.”

              “I wasn’t a runner.”

              “But you did do some form of exercise recreationally.” Stan looked at her, surprised. “I can tell by how easily you understand my instructions.”

              “Oh. Yeah.” Stan looked down at the floor. “Yeah. I did boxing.” He sighed. “And I’d give anything to get back to it.”

-----

              The doors opened with a loud woosh.  Stan stepped inside and looked around, his eyes drinking in the sight of a gym on an alien planet.  Most of the equipment looked similar to what was on Earth, probably because the dominant species of the planet was very similar to humans.  But there were a few things that Stan couldn’t even begin to imagine how they’d be used.  Equipment that looked like bench presses or leg presses, but were in shapes that a human couldn’t physically make.

              The alien accompanying him, Ford’s brother-in-law Lute, chuckled.

              “Your brother had a similar reaction the first time I took him here.”  That got Stan’s attention.  He turned to face Lute.

              “You took Ford to a gym?” Stan asked.

              “He asked.  He was curious about how it would compare to one on Earth.  According to him, it’s very similar.”

              “Yeah.”  Stan looked at a nearby alien doing chin-ups.  The alien looked a lot like Lute to Stan, but he wasn’t sure whether that was because they were both blue. “Yeah, I’d say so.”

              “Ford told me that you have some experience in gyms.”

              “I was the sporty one,” Stan said.  He looked down at himself.  “I guess you’ll just have to believe I’m telling the truth,” he mumbled.  He was still in physical therapy, but now that he was just about fully functional again, his appointments were slowly being phased out.  Fully functional, however, wasn’t good enough for Stan.  Which was why he wanted to go to the gym.

              My legs and arms haven’t been this twiggy since I was five.  I’ve gotta get back to normal.  Or at least close to it.

              “Since you have some experience, I’ll let you lead the way,” Lute said brightly.  “You can suggest what exercises you’d like to do and I’ll let you know if you can do them safely.”  Lute, whose human nickname was apparently from him mishearing Ford’s attempted nickname of “Luke”, was a physiotherapist.  He wasn’t on Stan’s medical team, but due to his expertise, he was the only reason Ford was even allowing Stan to go to the gym.

              Stan didn’t respond well to Ford initially outright telling him he couldn’t go.  Luckily, Ford’s husband, Fiddleford, stepped in to suggest his brother going with Stan.

              I’d probably be lost without a guide anyways.  But it’s the principle of the thing.  I’m not a fucking kid.  Ford shouldn’t treat me like one.

              “Stan?” Lute said, breaking through Stan’s frustrated thoughts.  Stan looked at him.  “Where would you like to start?”

              “Uh…”  Stan rubbed the back of his neck.  He looked around again.  “It looks like most of the equipment here is too big for me.”

              “I would agree,” Lute said with a nod.  He put an arm around Stan’s shoulders.  “Don’t worry, I run into the same issue all the time.”  Though Lute was more than a foot taller than Stan, he was considered abnormally short for his species, as was his twin sister.

              “I was gonna ask if you guys have any boxing equipment, but that would probably be too big anyways,” Stan muttered.  Lute frowned at him.

              “Boxing?” he asked.  Ford had taught all his in-laws English, so Stan and Lute didn’t need to use a translator to communicate.  But every now and then, Stan would use a term that Ford hadn’t bothered to teach.  Stan sighed.

              “It’s the sport I did back on Earth.  It involves a lot of punching.”

              “Punching?!”  Lute looked shocked.  “That’s a sport on your planet?”  Stan nodded.  “Ford didn’t tell me that.”

              “Yeah, well, he wasn’t very good at it,” Stan said under his breath.  Lute snickered softly.  “I’m gonna guess you don’t have anything I could punch.”

              “Hmm.”  Lute frowned.  “No, there’s some equipment I can think of that would be beneficial to working the muscles involved in a punching sport.  Some of it is even accessible to your size.  This gym caters to multiple species, after all, and while my species doesn’t engage in bloodsport, some of the smaller species on this planet do.”

              Bloodsport?  Okay, whatever.  Focus on the important thing.

              “There’s stuff here that would help me get back to boxing?” Stan asked.  Lute tilted his head one way, then the other.

              “I believe so.”

              “Great.  Take me there,” Stan said eagerly.  Lute shook his head.

              “It’s too rigorous for you right now.  You need to start off doing something that you can do slowly and gently.”

              “Like what?” Stan grumbled.

              “Swimming, perhaps.  Do you like to swim?”

              “…Yeah.”

              “Great!”  Lute beamed at him, showcasing the haunting needlelike teeth that his species had.  “Then let’s go swim!”  He leaned in.  “Ford told me that our swimming pools are different from those on Earth.  Apparently yours aren’t on the ceiling?”  Lute shook his head in disbelief.  He began to walk away.  Stan stood still for a few moments, processing what he had just said.  Finally, he gaped and chased after Lute.

              “Your swimming pools are where?!”

-----

              “Yeah, Uncle Stan, punch that thing!”  Stan grinned at the encouragement from Ford’s oldest child, Proteus.  He slammed his fist into the punching bag, eliciting a cheer from his nephew.  “Wow!”  Stan stopped to catch his breath.  He wiped the sweat from his face and turned to face his small audience.

              “You’re good,” said Lee, Ford’s nephew via his sister-in-law, Angie.  And, depending on how things went, one day via Stan.  Lee looked like the other members of the dominant species on the planet, with the exception that he had human-looking eyes, a trait randomly inherited from his human great-grandmother.

              “Can you teach us?” Proteus asked.  He was technically adopted by Ford and Fiddleford, but thanks to his shapeshifting abilities, often looked like he could be their biological child.  That was the case today.  Stan had insisted if they came to Human Town with him, Proteus couldn’t take his natural shape.  Too many of the inhabitants of Human Town, a part of the capital city inhabited by abductees from Earth and their descendants, had negative emotions related to Proteus’s species.

              Including Stan.  The trafficker that had abducted him years ago was the same species as his nephew, currently staring up at him with starry eyes.  Stan would die for his nephew.  But still, seeing him in his natural state was too much.

              “I might be able to show you two a couple things,” Stan said idly.  “I mean, I’m the only one on the planet who can teach you.”  He winked at Proteus and Lee.  “I’ll even do it for free.”  Proteus and Lee giggled.

              After Stan had become healthy enough to get back into boxing, he’d run into the issue of there not being anywhere he could train.  The lack of opponents was another potential problem, but the more pressing one was Stan not being able to get his hands on a speed bag.  Luckily, one of Ford’s brothers-in-law was a carpenter, who knew someone that made custom exercise equipment and furniture.

              Then, one day while at a bar in Human Town, Stan mentioned his boxing equipment to someone.  That person happened to own the only gym in Human Town, and insisted Stan set up some demonstrations for any humans interested in learning about an Earth sport unheard of on this planet.  Things snowballed from there, and now, Stan had a steady job as a boxing trainer at the gym.

              Lee handed Stan his towel.  As Stan was drying off, there was a polite cough.  Stan dropped the towel and looked over at the doorway to the room.  Ford stood there, a wistful look on his face.

              “Hey, Sixer,” Stan greeted him.  Ford nodded his head.

              “I see the boxing is still going well.”

              “Oh, yeah.  Being an ‘exotic’ human that knows things about ‘exotic’ human culture is a pretty big draw around here,” Stan said.  Ford nodded.  “Have you told your kids you used to box, too?”

              “What?” Proteus said eagerly.  He looked over at Ford.  “Really?”

              “Our father signed us up for lessons when we were young,” Ford said.  “But Stanley was always better than me.”

              “Yep.”  Stan raised an eyebrow at Ford.  “We should put on an exhibition match.”

              “Ah.  No.”

              “Oh, c’mon!  We’d make a killing!”

              “I don’t have any interest in putting on an exhibition match with you,” Ford said firmly.  “You’ll just have to wait until one of your students reaches that skill level.”  He paused.  “Or until someone abducts a boxer.”

              “Second one would probably happen sooner,” Stan grunted.  “My students are too scared to put much power behind their hits.”

              “Such is the difficulty of teaching,” Ford said sagely.  Stan rolled his eyes.  “Proteus, Lee, are you ready to go?”

              “Yep!” Proteus said, hopping off the bench he and Lee had been sitting on.  Lee nodded and slid off as well.

              “Excellent.”  Ford looked at Stan.  “Enjoy your date with Angie.  Where are you taking her?”

              “That hole in the wall place on Zerbz Street.”

              “Earthling Eatings?” Ford asked.  Stan nodded.  “I’ve never been.”

              “You’ve gotta go there sometime.  They’ve done some crazy sh- stuff with Earth food,” Stan said, barely remembering to censor himself.

              “It’s good!” Lee piped up.  Ford smiled at him.

              “Stan has taken you there?” he asked.  Lee nodded.

              “I went, too!” Proteus said.  Ford ruffled his son’s hair.

              “If it has the seal of approval from the two of you, perhaps we should go there for dinner sometime.”  Ford waved at Stan.  “I’ll see you after your date.”

              “Yep.  See you later.”

              “Bye!” Lee and Proteus called.  The kids and Ford left.  The large, circular door closed behind them.  Stan sighed.  He looked down at the electronic band on his wrist.  It almost completely covered the scar from his poaching cuff.  It was glowing slightly, signaling that he had a message.  He tapped the band.  A hologram display lit up above the band with the message from Angie.

              “I’ll be there in twenty.  I can’t wait to try food from your culture.”  Stan grinned.  He pulled up the hologram keyboard and typed out a response.

              “Make it thirty if you want me showered.”  After a few seconds, the reply came back.

              “Deal.”

              Stan waved away the hologram screen.  He grabbed his all-in-one soap and began to head for the showers, whistling.  His band chimed again.  He tapped on it.  The hologram screen popped up again, this time displaying a picture.  Stan froze.

              The bands required profile pictures for all users.  When Stan first got this band, it wasn’t long after he was discharged from the hospital.  Thus, the profile picture was of him near his lowest point.  His face was gaunt, his hair stringy, his skin pale.  He barely recognized himself then, and he barely recognized the picture as himself now.

              At the bottom of the picture was an automated message.

              “It has been two years since you set your profile picture.  Would you like to change it?”

              Stan went to press the button to open the camera.  He paused.  After a moment, he shook his head.  He closed out of the notification.

              “Nah.  I’ve got a date to get ready for.”

[st7arlight]

what are they looking at over there…..

[multi-fandom-hyperchondriac]

Carla McCorkle headcanons: (in my au) and maybe some additional Starla

She never really stopped dancing, however none of her dance partners were ever as good as Stanley.

She was raised by her grandparents, but she really longed for the love of parents.

It's why after her and Stanley's breakup she still visited Caryn, she's the kind of mother she wished she had in her life.

She would sometimes help Caryn out with the phone psychic business, turns out she's quite good at the hustling.

She also keeps a picture of her and Stanley in a pocket or her purse, she especially looks at it after she heard about Stanley's 'death.'

In school she enjoyed English and surprisingly PE, especially after Stanley gave her a few boxing lessons.

After the movie theater incident, even though she is grateful for Stan's help, she wishes she could have done more, so she basically demands Stan to teach her a couple of self defense moves (And Stan can't say no to her.)

She punched Stan once she found out he was alive after going to Ford's house to yell at him, because how dare he live near where Stan died and didn't tell anyone.

It takes about a year for them to get together again, Stan and Carla wanted it to be purely platonic at first, wanting to just stay friends while she helped him on the portal.

She reminds Stan of Ford a lot because she's so curious about all of the creatures in Gravity Falls, she fits so well into this town, she's friendly with the gnomes, her favourite is Shmebulock, despite him only saying one word, she learns how to communicate with him flawlessly.

She convinces Stan to start writing and drawing again, even if it's for his own personal thing and happiness, she disliked how many people told Stan that he was dumber and lesser than Ford.

She's Stanley's only marriage in this au.

Bonus:

When Ford comes back after all that time, she and Ford are the only one's apart from Mabel who enjoys Mabel juice.

Her, Ford and Mabel have pamper nights, she paints his nails, Mabel paints hers, and they all take it in turns painting each other's toenails.

She's the one that convinces Ford to reconcile with Fiddleford, basically saying. "If Stanley and I can get back together after I broke his heart by leaving him for a hippie and stay together of all things then you can get back your cowboy? Hippie? Whatever you call him."