#young ford pines writing

[arttsuka]

Au where this happens instead of the portal incident

Edit: someone did write a fic about it. Wow. Here

Original image:

[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

[melancholypolywog]

i had this idea a while ago where ford invites shermie to visit backupsmore but completely forgets about it. shermie is left stranded in the undulating thickets of hippies until fiddleford mcgucket saves the day by locating ford for him.

[dimonds456-art]

Chapter 1: The Mystery of the Missing Brother

Also under the cut for y'all without an AO3

Enjoy, leave me notes to give me powers

Summertime in New Jersey was meant to be spent outside. There were the beaches, the boardwalks, the sun, the trees to climb, the ice cream to eat- sitting inside doing nothing was eating Stanford alive. Typically, he'd prefer to be inside rather than out, but today itself wasn't typical. It wasn't a normal day and he couldn't keep still. He wanted to be doing something, but he wasn't sure WHAT to do. 

Typically, when he was inside, he could just read. He had plenty of fantasy books to get through. The thing was, though, that he'd tried that already, but he couldn't focus on the words. They kept fading into the background as worry overcame him instead. He wasn't even sure what was happening in the book anymore, despite having to reread paragraphs multiple times. He was pretty sure there was a chameleon? That was about it.

He was supposed to be back by now. Ma had said he'd be back before Ford knew it. So where was he?

Ford heard the grandfather clock in the house strike noon, and with a flurry of motion, he slammed the book closed beside him on the floor and sprang to his feet- out the door, through the hall, and over to the table their Ma always sat at when giving people fortunes. She was currently on the phone with someone, twirling the cord between her fingers. 

As soon as she saw Ford enter the room, her posture changed. She went from relaxed and casual to tense. She looked away quickly, grabbing at the cord while her foot bounced. Her tone remained exactly the same, and she tried to remain in the same casual, laid-back pose Ford had found her in, but one more glance at him had her stiffening.

Ford stopped, waiting for her to finish. He knew better than to interrupt her, despite the rolling anxiety doing flips in his chest. He crossed his arms, tapping his fingers at the sleeves on his jacket as he studied the floor. 

Wood. Dark oak, maybe? No, that'd be too fancy. Maybe he could ask Ma? Well not right now but at some point later? Maybe? He heard somewhere once that you could tell how long a tree lived based on the rings it had, so would he be able to figure out how old their flooring was? Maybe he could figure out the exact birthday of the trees themselves, wouldn't THAT be something? 

"Yes, I predict your date will be much better now," Ma said into the receiver. "Good day to you." She reached over and set the phone down with a little click! before turning to Ford. "Stanford, did you need something, hon?"

"Yeah." Ford grabbed at his sleeves. "You said Stanley would be back soon," he exclaimed. "It's noon, Ma, and he's still not here! Where is he?"

Ma took in a deep breath, looking away. "I… I'm sorry, Stanford. Stanleys not here. He's…" She trailed off. 

"What? He's what?" The anxiety was only climbing. She knew something, didn't she? Why wasn't she telling him?

Last night, she'd told Ford that Stanley was going off with a friend to make Ford a surprise, and that he'd be back early this morning. When Ford had woken up and Stanley wasn't there, he'd initially assumed his brother was playing hide and seek to scare him or something. But then Ford couldn't find him. He'd searched the whole house, and nothing. Ma said he just needed extra time. How much time did he need?

Ma sighed. "I needed to try and find some way to tell you. He's… Stanley's not coming home."

Ford blinked up at her. "WHAT?!" Did he run off with that new best friend he has, apparently?? Did he get stuck in a sewer somewhere? Fall out of a tree? Did someone come and take him away? Did he get kidnapped by a time traveler?!

"I know, I know, I shoulda told you before," Ma continued. She looked… sad. She wouldn't look at Ford, instead opting to examine a picture on the wall. Well, a picture frame. It was empty now. "He's not coming home and I didn't know how to tell ya." She paused, then took a deep breath. "Stanford, your brother-"

"Ran away." Heavy footsteps entered the room. Ford turned to look as his father stepped through the doorway. He was still wearing those glasses of his, dressed up nice for the shop. His stern expression hadn't changed at all- he could have been telling them it was storming outside, the neighbors came to visit, or that they got a new puppy and that face never changed. "He left last night."

"No…" Ford shook his head. "No, that's not true! If he was gonna run away, he would have told me about it." He balled his hands into fists, swinging them up and down anxiously. "We'd have gone together!"

Pa didn't react aside from tilting his head down a bit more to look at his son. "Well maybe he got tired of always sticking up for you." 

Ford shrunk back in on himself, subconsciously tucking his fingers away under his arms in a self-hug. 

"Filbrick!" Ma shot him a glare. 

Without a word, the man turned and walked back out of the room, footsteps retreating down the hall. Ma moved to stand, but a sharp ringing gave her pause. The phone's shrill cry was loud, but Ma ignored it. She pushed herself up and stormed after her husband instead. Ford watched as his mom passed, watching her with wide eyes.

"Filbrick Pines, you do not get to talk about our little boy like that!"

"He's not our kid anymore, Caryn." 

"That's not true."

"Not our problem anymore, either." 

"Filbrick!"

That was it. Ford spun around and bolted back to their room. Not his. It would always be their room. Unless…? 

No. No, it didn't make sense. Stanley wouldn't just run away without saying anything! That didn't sound like him at all! 

Ford slammed the door, stomping over to the bed and throwing himself on the bottom bunk- Stan's bunk. It was neat- the pillow was fluffed and where it was supposed to go, the blankets were made, and most of the toys had been cleaned off of it. Stan almost never cleaned his bed, and he certainly wouldn't have fluffed the pillow. Ford grabbed at it, burying his face in the fabric. He looped his arms around it so it covered his face, then grabbed at his hair instead.

"Not true," he grumbled to himself, muffled by the pillow. "He wouldn't just disappear like that. He wouldn't!"

He groaned. This wasn't helping. He had to think this through.

Pushing himself up, he moved his hands under his glasses to run them down his face. "Okay. Okay, logic. Stanley got a bad grade in school, and Pa yelled at him for it. Grounded him. He was sent outside to wash the windows all weekend, and I wasn't allowed to help him."

He began to pace, making his way around the room as he rambled aloud to himself. He'd found that speaking like this helped him get his thoughts in order, especially if he was overthinking something. Stan always told him to talk through it, and it seemed to help. Made the thoughts more real- and if they were real, they could be studied. Made it easier to see which were more likely. 

Now, he walked circles around the cluttered room, eyes scanning their shared collection warily. "Pa didn't say why- he never does, why would he now- and then…" he stopped. "Maybe he's mad at Pa? So he ran off to make him feel bad?" That had some logic to it, but Stan had been mad at their father before and he'd never done anything like this. It didn't really seem like something he'd do. 

"Or," Ford began, circling again, "he was washing the windows and that friend Ma mentioned came by and distracted him, and he got in trouble, so when he was given more work, he decided running away was easier." That was more like Stan. He was usually quick to drop responsibilities or take shortcuts, and without Ford there to stop him, he probably got carried away.

"Or maybe," Ford continued, holding up a finger, "someone saw him in the window and thought he was for sale, and when they went to buy him he ran away! Then Pa saw him running and he thought Stan just ran away." He snapped his fingers, as if he were really onto something here. "Then, he got taken by a griffin!" 

Yeah. Logical. 

Ford sighed, pausing his pacing to push the butts of his palms into his eyes. This wasn't helping. "It doesn't matter," he reasoned. "Stan's gone. He's gone and that's that. It doesn't matter how it happened, right?" He stopped, eyebrows raising. He looked up, eyeing the singular backpack hanging on the wall. Stan's was missing. 

Ford dashed over to the spot, grabbing his own backpack and unzipping it. It was full of school supplies and books, including the sequel to the book he was reading now (in case he finished early), a different book (in case he couldn't focus on this one), that book's sequel (what if that one was more interesting or easy to read? Can't be too careful), and a notebook. 

Quickly, he dumped everything out as cleanly as he could on the bed. He made sure the books landed upright with no damage to the pages, but that was about as far as caution went. He rifled through it, looking for a note or anything out of place. Paper, paper, homework, pencils, pen, pencil-stabbed erasers- nothing out of the ordinary. 

Fine, then. If Stan didn't leave him a note, he'd write one of his own.

He ripped out a piece of notebook paper and grabbed one of his pens- a sharpie. Old reliable, honestly. He'd used that pen more than Stan chewed on his pencils, and considering that half the trashcan in the corner was full of broken writing utensils, that was saying a lot.

"He wouldn't wanna do this alone," Ford reasoned to himself as he wrote. "So he must be waiting for me somewhere. And I'm gonna find him."

Mind made up, Ford rushed around the room. He grabbed his notebook and all his pencils and pens again, stuffing them in his bag. Sadly, he bid goodbye to his books. He could always find them again in a different library, anyway. Instead, his backpack was to be filled with only the essentials.

He opened their clothes drawer to find more things missing- Stan's favorite shirt, a pair of shorts, some socks, and underwear were all gone. Ford grabbed his own favorites, giving himself an extra change of clothes in case he needed it. 

From there, he sat down. What would he need out there? He had clothes, he had shoes, he had notebooks, uhh…

Tools! 

He knew his father had tools in the house somewhere, and he also knew that the guy never actually used them. Unless Stanley broke something, there was never any need, and, well, that wasn't happening any time soon, it seemed. So he wouldn't even notice. Yeah. 

Ford quietly opened the door. He could still hear his parents down the hall, and quickly shut out whatever they were on about. He didn't wanna hear it.  Besides, he had a mission. He gently lowered a foot forward, and when a bomb didn't go off, he took another step, then another, then another. Slowly, he crept down the hall towards the stairs.

Before he got there, though, he passed the bathroom. He paused, looking in the open door. Of course. Toothbrush. 

He pushed the door open all the way before shutting it again. He grabbed his toothbrush (noticing again that Stanley's was missing, which was… weird. Did Stan take it with him?), toothpaste, and a hairbrush. Before turning back around, though, a thought occurred to him. They were gonna be outside, and they were gonna get hurt a lot. Ma always kept the band-aids nearby, and when Ford opened the cabinet under the sink, sure enough, there was a box right there.

He tucked it into his backpack and began picking his way closer and down the stairs once again. 

Now on the bottom floor, Ford worried less about making noise. For all his father knew, he was just a customer wandering the display cases. He quickly made his way over to the office, where he knew the toolbox was. Sure enough, tucked onto a shelf, was the last thing he needed before they left. 

Reaching in, Ford quickly grabbed out a hammer, a screwdriver, and a flashlight. Hammers were good for hitting stuff, screwdrivers could be used like a pick, and flashlights were always good to have. The other tools didn't seem as important. What could they use a tape measure for? Not much, he thought.

Was that everything? Ford closed the door to his father's office behind him as he mulled the question over. He tried to picture himself and Stanley, roughing it out on the open road with nothing but their backpacks and each other. He was pretty sure Stan knew how to light a fire (he'd been near them enough for some of them to be his doing, right?), so from there they'd just needed… uhh…

Oh, right. Ford smacked himself in the forehead. Food. 

Quietly, he crept back upstairs. His parents were still going at it, though it sounded like Ma was becoming more and more sad. Pa just sounded the same. Inwardly, Ford's anxiety surged. Sounded like they were almost done.

Quickly, as quietly as he could, Ford scampered over to the dining room table. On it was a little bowl of apples- green ones, specifically. Ford quickly grabbed a couple and then tied them up in a tablecloth. Then, finally, he ran to their room, grabbed the mast from a homemade boat model they'd been building on and off, and tied the little bag to the top. 

One last thing to do, then. He clutched the note close as he left the room, tip-toeing to the table one last time. He left it next to the apples, then scampered down the stairs and out the door.

If Stanley was gonna run away from home, then so was Ford. All he had to do now was find him.

Dear Ma and Pa, 

I know you said Stanley ran away, but I can't let him do that by himself. I'm gonna go find him, so we can run away together! We're probably gonna go sailing, so if you need us, check the ocean first. Lots to discover out there!

I had to leave my books here. Tell Mrs Dunn I'm sorry in case I can't return them myself. I'm also gonna try to keep going to school, so don't worry about that! I'll get Stanley to go with me, too. 

Love you! - Stanford

Notes:

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[deviantplum]

No you were up too late writing smut about a reclusive, old man and his Abusive Triangle BF

[localcanadiancreature62]

Hey y'alls. The BillfordWeek2024 event starts TODAY!. And i don't want to be the only entry right now so pspspspsps @cecilscribbles @agothorn @nico-the-overlord @antonymziie @aaabatteryy loook.

[dialoguedailyish]

Mabel: <listening to music, drawing, singing> “I wanted to help people, I did my best to save the sick…”

Ford: <walks in> “What might this be?”

Mabel: “Oh, I’m just listening to some Penelope Scott!”

Ford: “Oh, alright.”

<time passes, Ford is working>

Ford: <humming> “and with god as a my witness… I will not suck the devil’s dick…”

Stan: <passing through> “Too late Poindexter, can’t change the past that easy!”

Ford: <stammering> “I- STANLEY!”

Stan: “I ain’t wrong.”

[ifwebefriends]

Okay so like what if Gravity Falls was like The Magnus Archives and instead of journals Ford took tape recorded statements from townsfolk about the strange shit in GF and he’d get into trouble with local creatures and it slowly made him more paranoid and antsy hey hey look at me and like Bill Cipher was there and let Ford borrow some of his power to use and Fiddleford would be his assistant can you hear me and they would work together on shit but when Ford leaned more on Bill and his powers he would start to erase some of his memories and get in with some other powerful being or beings and Ford had to go save him and hello can anyone hear me

[comicdez]

im going as a monster for halloween

[nowimjustastranger]

Question! I was playing around with the idea that this post (which also includes this post) could become a mini-series that is directly connected to the stcmo universe. But I want to see how many people would be interested in seeing the Dad Stan AU fleshed out more?

Also, I'll need help coming up with a series/au name. So if you guys have any ideas, let me know in the comments!

[st7arlight]

what are they looking at over there…..

[arttsuka]

The neurodivergent brothers 🔥

[sleeplessdreamer14]

𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌 (𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓉 𝐼𝐼)

fandom: gravity falls

relationship: stanford pines x reader

summary: the moment Ford realized he loved you.

contains: fluff, pining, a few little references, no dialogue

some folks who loved part I: @thistrashisreadytobash @allies-diary @gravity-falls-fanatic89 @nelson-and-murdock

It had been a few months since Ford realized he liked you, and he was handling it… relatively well.

Upon fully registering the fact that he had a thing for you, Stanford decided to give it some time just to see if the crush would fade and things would go back to normal. But as weeks passed, it gradually became clear that these feelings weren’t going anywhere. Especially since a lot of cheesy love songs were starting to make a lot of sense to him all of a sudden.

That being said, he had found a way to make the best of the situation. Ford still spent time with you, fortunately still feeling comfortable in your company. 

Though he had to admit, even the littlest things you did, like looking in his direction with those soulful eyes and saying his name, had a habit of getting his train of thought lost for a good second, resulting in him having to catch himself before he could say something stupid. 

Now, strolling along the boardwalk, he found himself lost in thought. Whenever the two of you would part ways at the end of the day, even if you had just spent hours together, it always felt like he was leaving your side too soon. Like he always wanted just a few more minutes with you. 

If Ford were to be completely honest, it was a bit frustrating, liking you. He had only had a select few crushes in the past- all of which seemed to go awry in some way or another- and none of them measured up to what he felt for you. Whereas he would feel little bouts of giddy excitement at the thought of his previous objects of infatuation, his crush on you was a whole other ball park. The joy was still there, of course, but it was evenly accompanied by a tightness in his chest that would have him distracted during the day and restless at night.

And as if on cue, the sound of your voice pulled Ford out of his thoughts, prompting him to lift his gaze from the old wooden planks of the boardwalk so he could see you walking in his direction and the distant clouds suddenly make way for the afternoon sun. He walked with you across the dock, sharing how your days have been and other such whatever.

Despite its difficulties, Ford liked this part of spending time with you. Ultimately, conversation with you has always been as easy as breathing. You understood each other's idiosyncrasies, and even liked each other all the more for them, and you just passed the time together so well.

For most of his life, Stanford had been brought up to meet certain expectations set up by those around him, thanks to his higher-than-average academic smarts.

But standing at the edge of the pier, leaning against the railing, staring out at the plum tinted sea with you, all of those things were put on the back-burner, and he wasn’t the six-fingered freak or the de facto smartest kid in the room. He could just indulge in simple whimsy, like when you two would watch scary movies and judge the quality of the acting and the special effects, or get drinks together after school and hang out until it got dark.

It was rare for him to meet anyone who made him feel so comfortably… human. 

As the sun got lower, the skies grew darker, and the carnival lights came on, the full weight of the situation gradually dawned on Ford as he took a couple of small side steps to be closer to you, fumbling curtly with his hands. He loved to see you, to talk to you, hear you laugh, to be next to you. He just… loved you.

[ryemiffie]

Update five,

Having fun making Bill more pathetic, this man is desperate for his man back lol

[dimonds456-art]

Chapter 2 of the Runaway Ford AU is up! Also below the cut for you guys who don't have an Ao3

Seagulls screeched nearby, and voices could be heard muttering to each other from every direction. It was a beautiful day to get out and enjoy some sunlight, but Ford had other priorities. 

Taking in a breath of fresh air, Ford paused. He'd only just made it outside the pawn shop, stopping to take in the bright midday sun and the clear blue sky. 

First up, he had to find Stan. Then, they were gonna run off together. After that? They'd go live on the Stan'O'War, probably. It couldn't float yet, but they could fix that easy-peasy.

The issue was trying to find Stan, though. Ford's first thought was the Stan'O'War, which was down by the beach, but there was a chance that Stan was waiting somewhere closer, and if Ford left now, he'd miss him. Then, he'd double back, and Stan would go to the boat, and they'd just keep passing each other while never actually finding each other, and that sounded like a mess waiting to happen. Best to be methodical about it.

He knelt down, unzipping his backpack to pull out his notebook and a pen; his sharpie- old reliable once again. Unfortunately, he knew first-hand that it would bleed through the pages, so he set it aside for now. Instead, he pulled out a smaller ballpoint pen. 

Quickly zipping his bag back up and slinging it over his shoulder, he sprinted off a little down the road. If his parents found his note too fast, they'd be able to catch him before he made any progress on finding Stan, and if that happened, he probably wouldn't be allowed out for the rest of the summer- a summer which just started. There was so much sun ahead of them, he couldn't get cooped up too fast this time. 

Once he was a couple buildings away, he ducked into a small alley and opened his notebook again. He started writing down as many places as he could think of, before going back and starring the ones he thought were most likely.

List of places Stanley could be: - Somewhere around Pines Pawns *! - Hot Belgian Waffles - The Stan'O'War *! - The park - The boardwalk - That once ice cream store I can never remember the name of *!

Ford read it over again, trying to think of more. There was also a chance he was in places Ford liked to go, like the library, but he'd check those later. 

Now, where to start? Ford was willing to bet his allowance that Stanley was on the Stan'O'War, but in case he wasn't, Ford didn't want to keep running around in circles. So, starting at the closest place and going from there made the most sense. 

Back to Pines Pawns it was. Hopefully they hadn't found the note yet. 

Ford stood in front of his previous residence of not even a half an hour ago, tapping his pen against his chin. 

Nope. Still looked the same as it ever did. 

The building was shorter than the other ones around it, which was bound to draw eyes, so his father had basically taken advantage of it. He'd put up all kinds of eye-catching paraphernalia around the place, like pointing hands and bright colors, to advertise the shop. The dirtied window showcased watches, a chandelier, a trophy, and stuff of a similar caliber. Up above was a giant chess piece as suggested by Ma, since it was weird- making it stand out. No one had giant pawns on top of their roofs.

The sidewalk was covered in tiny flecks of sand and dirt and trash, the streetlight was just off-center enough to drive Stanford nuts, and the silver bin they kept in the alley looked full. Same as it ever was. 

After taking a moment to just drink it in, Ford darted off to the left-side alley. There wasn't much down there, just brick walls and trash. And no Stanley. 

Same with the right side. Ford crossed his arms, scrutinizing the alley as best as he could. Candy wrappers crunched under his shoe as he tapped his foot. See, he wasn't an expert by any means, so trying to figure out what was a clue and what wasn't was hard. Like, he didn't know what to look for. Did that mean there were no clues, or they were just going over Ford's head? 

A small gust of wind blew by, rustling the half-crumpled cardboard sticking out of the trashcan. It didn't blow out, but it was enough to make Ford realize that this was probably a dead end. 

He crossed off Pines Pawns. 

The bell rang as Ford stepped into the restaurant. The next-door business, Hot Belgian Waffles, was always a favorite of Stanley's when they could afford to eat there. Their pancakes were fluffy as a cloud, butter smooth and melt-y, and their syrup was sweet. Of course, the best meal was the waffles, which were just cooked enough to be crunchy on the outside and soft and fluffy on the inside. Add some strawberries on top with some butter and syrup and you were golden. 

Ford took a couple steps inside, trying not to get too swept up by the smells. This was probably a bad time to realize he hadn't eaten anything before leaving the house. The aroma was positively divine. 

While he loitered by the front door, most of the patrons continued eating and chatting. However, he did see a few glance his way, who were quick to squint at him disapprovingly. He looked down at the floor. More wooden flooring. Cozy.

A waitress spotted him. She was a taller woman, with dark curls circling her round face. She took care of the couple she was serving, jotting something down, before walking up to Ford. She smiled widely, just enough to look friendly but not enough to look genuine.

"Well now, if it isn't one of the Pines Pawns boys!" she greeted, voice syrupy sweet. "Just you today, sugar?"

"Oh, um, I'm not gonna order," Ford told her somewhat sheepishly, pretending he didn't see her smile falter. "I'm looking for my brother." 

"The other one? Can't say I've seen him today." She placed her hands on her hips. "Say, what's with the outfit? You playing handyman or somethin'?"

"Oh," Ford looked down at himself, realizing how out-of-place he looked now with his belt, backpack, and bindle. "No, I'm… treasure hunting." He shrugged, making eye contact and smiling and remaining calm and not sweating. "You never know what you'll need for that." 

The waitress looked like the impossible cross between disappointed and overjoyed to hear that. "I see. Well, if he comes around, I'll put in a good word for you."

Ford visibly relaxed. "Thank you, ma'am."

"Don't mention it. Though, per company policy, I am going to hafta ask you to stop loitering in the doorway." 

"Right. Goodbye, miss!"

"Good luck!" She waved him out as he reached up to the door handle and pulled. It was heavier than the Pines Pawns door- must be made of better materials. Either that or the gold handle really was gold. 

As Ford stepped back out, he crossed Hot Belgian Waffles off the list.

If his intuition was right, his next stop should be his last. 

Ford lifted up the tarp, stepping inside the rickety old boat with a smile. "Stanley! I…" he trailed off, face falling as he took in the empty expanse. "...found you." 

Nothing. The box of nails they forgot to bring home were still there, their footprints were untouched aside from the inarguable influence of gravity, and nothing looked more broken than it had yesterday. 

Ford pushed the tarp back all the way, slowly stepping inside through the broken side of the ship. Each noise he made didn't echo so much as it was immediately thrown back at him, amplifying it. It made the silence even thicker. 

"Stanley…?" Ford called out tentatively. "You in here?"

The crashing of the waves nearby served as his only answer.

Stepping back out, his eyes took a second to adjust to the light. Maybe he fell asleep on the deck? The stairs weren't usable inside yet, making it hard to get up there, but the boys had noticed that some of the planks on the side stuck out at just the right angles to form a makeshift ladder. Ford set his bindle down, taking each step carefully as he scaled the side of the craft. 

Up on top now, he had a much better view of the beach. No one was here, which wasn't surprising for this time of year, but it was still eerie. Ford found himself tensing his shoulders as he glanced around. 

Okay, logic. If Stanley wasn't at the boat, then he could feasibly be anywhere. Or, maybe he had been staying at the boat, got bored, and wandered off? That sounded like a Stanley thing to do. Or maybe he went to play in the ocean and got dragged out by the undercurrent again? Or maybe the Jersey Devil found him? 

The more he stood there and thought about where his brother might be, the more Ford found himself getting lost in worry. He gripped the straps of his backpack tighter, scanning again, slower this time, to see if he could see any trace of his brother along the shore. 

Waves lapped at the sand lazily, seagulls screeched. Cars drove by not too far away. The long, thin grasses further up the beach rustled against each other in the wind. But no loud whooping or sounds of destruction. 

"Okay, okay, this is okay," Stanford said to himself. "He's probably around here somewhere. He probably… went to go get ice cream. Yeah." That was reassuring! And delicious. 

His body didn't stop shaking. 

He groaned, throwing his head back. "When I find Stanley, I'm throwing him into the ocean myself," he grumbled.

Taking a deep breath, Ford walked over to the side of the boat where he'd left his bindle and jumped back down. He landed softly in the sand, having done this a couple of times now. It did send a shock up his joints, but it was nothing he couldn't handle. 

"Okay, Stanford, just think." He slung the little stick-bag over his shoulder again and began to pace around the boat. "If he wanted to meet you here, he would NOT be here." He threw his free hand out for emphasis. "He's too restless for that. So the best choice would be to stay and wait for him. But…" he trailed off, glancing down the beach. "...if he's not here, then you're wasting more time." 

He hummed, trying to calm the storm brewing in his mind. "Maybe…" 

Ford gasped, then smacked himself in the head. Duh!

There was one other place on the beach Stanley might be. Stanford quickly took off, heading north.

Let it be known that Stanford Pines did not give up easily. Heck, he still had a bunch of other places to be searching! But his earlier hypothesis of the two of them walking circles around each other was starting to become more clear. Which meant, one of them had to stand still and wait for the other to catch up. And since Stanley could not, for the life of him, stand still, it looked like Ford was going to be the one to do that.

He sat forlornly on his seat, gazing off into the waves. It was going on five hours since he started searching, and while adults would tell him that that wasn't very long at all, to Ford, it felt like he'd been going all day. Paired with the worry building in his guts that was slowly rising towards his chest, he was feeling exhausted. 

He'd already checked the park, and the boardwalk (he'd walked up and down it three times), and he'd made sure to find that ice cream place and ask about Stanley there. Nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing. No one had seen him, no one had heard him, no one had anything to tell! 

There were too many variables and not enough information. He could spend the entire day running around in circles and that would solve nothing. He just had to trust that Stanley had come looking for Ford now, too, and they were doing circles. They were both just being silly and overreacting. It was fine. He was fine. They'd see each other by nightfall, since Stanley would go back to the Stan'O'War to camp out for the night, right? Yeah, yeah that was it. 

But right now, Ford couldn't find it in him to move. Everything was becoming too much. 

His feet dug into the sand under him, and he lightly pushed himself back and forth in a slow swaying motion. His swing made low creaking sounds as he did. 

Stanley's swing was silent. 

Sunset was still about two hours away this time of year, so he had time to just… breathe. Calm down, refocus. Stanley was on his way.

"Oh, and now what do we see here?" 

Ford tensed at the sound of footsteps behind him. He didn't turn to face them yet; he didn't know what to expect. Last time he'd heard those voices, it didn't end well, but it also had been a while, so…? 

"Galloping gumshoes, I do believe that's one of the Pines twins! All on his lonesome, apparently." The second voice dripped with fake surprise. 

"About time, wouldn't you say, Dickie?"

There were suddenly hands grabbing at the ropes of Ford's swing. Jumping, he turned to look, and found himself sandwiched between the Sibling Brothers. The boys' golden, slicked-back hair shone brightly in the late evening sunlight, and their eyes gleamed with a fire just barely concealed under fake bravado.

The one on his left, who was wearing a blue sweater vest and a white, long-sleeved shirt, nodded. "That I would, Ascot!"

The one on Stanford's right, Ascot, looked nearly identical to his twin in everything but clothing. He was wearing a red sweater with a yellow ascot poking out from beneath the collar of a white shirt. He smirked. "Say now, where is that brother of yours, freak? Not still grounded after the whole golden sticky-fingers incident, is he?" He turned up his brows in mock concern.

Ford shook his head. "N-no, he's- Stanley and I, we were just, uh…" he dug around for something to say. He did not have the time nor the patience for these two right now. He needed to march back to the Stan'O'War as quickly as possible and wait for his twin there. Hopefully he wouldn't be much longer, and if they did pass each other, they'd see it this time since it was getting late and there's no way Stanley wouldn't also be thinking that Ford was either at the swingset or the boat, right? "Just leave me alone!"

As Stanford moved to stand up, Ascot grabbed his jacket sleeve and yanked him back, not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to knock him back into the seat. 

"Oh no you don't, Pines," he glowered. "We still have some unfinished business." 

Dickie leaned into Stanford's view, arms crossed. "Yeah. You owe us for the Jersey Devil debacle." 

Stanford frowned. "I don't owe you two anything! You tried to get my brother in trouble, and you keep calling me a freak!" He stood up sharply, trying to run again, only to hit the sand as Dickie tripped him. It got under his glasses and in his clothes, but he hardly noticed. He spun around, eyes flicking back and forth between the two boys. 

"Outstanding work, Dickie." 

"Many thanks, Ascot." 

The two of them started towards Stanford. He scrambled backwards, but couldn't seem to get his feet under him. 

"You know," Ascot began, "I'm starting to think your brother isn't here, Stanford." 

"What, did you finally get tired of him?"

"No…" Stanford looked away, still scooching backwards along the sand. Hopefully they were far enough away from where the broken glass was, he didn't want to get his hands cut up. They only had so many bandaids. "No, he just… he… went to go get ice cream?"

"Ho ho ho!" Dickie placed a hand on his guts in mock laughter. "So he really is gone!"

"No, he isn't!" Stanford stopped, purposefully focusing on his feet as he shakily stood back up. "I'm going to find him!" 

"Find him?" Ascot raised a brow. "And he has been missing for…?"

Crap. "Nothing! I mean, never! I know where he is!" Stanford pointed at them both accusingly. "And you better get outta here before he gets back! You don't wanna mess with him, trust me!"

The two gave each other a long look before bursting out laughing. If Ford had to describe it in a word, it'd be "snooty." 

"And just what makes you think you can solve any mysteries?" Dickie put his hands on his hips. "If it weren't for you two following us, you would have NEVER discovered the Jersey Devil in the first place!"

"And," Ascot added, stepping closer, attempting to loom over a boy his same height, "you were working as a team. You're alone now, aren't you, freak?"

"Stop calling me that!" Stanford burst out. He jammed his hands into his pockets, hating the feeling of his face heating up. "He's my brother, of course I'll find him! We always find each other!"

Dickie tapped his chin with a finger, rolling his eyes in thought. "You know, Ascot, I've been struck with an idea," he mused, dragging out his words.

"Do tell," Ascot waved a hand at his brother in a grandiose fashion. 

"That troublemaker means a lot to six fingers, doesn't he? Perhaps, if we find him first, he'll thank us instead. We could get our reign as Glass Shard Beach's best mystery solvers back!"

"Hey, Stanley would never-" 

"I like the sound of that, Dickie!" Ascot turned to smirk at Ford again. "If we found him first, then we would be considered great detectives, cracking a case that not even the so-called Kings of New Jersey could solve on their own!"

"We could restore our reputation" Dickie seemed genuinely excited now. "And get payback at the same time!" 

"Righto!"  

"Shut up!" Stanford threw his hands up in the air before stomping towards them. "My brother and I can take care of ourselves! You stay out of this!"

"Hah!" Ascot scoffed. "What's the matter, Pines? Afraid you'll lose?"

Ford straightened indignantly. "That's my twin you're talking about! You go stick your noses somewhere else, this is none of your business!"

"Sounds like the game is on," Dickie grinned. He turned on his heel, walking back towards the nearby boardwalk. "Tah tah, Pines, we'll see you on the other side of the proverbial finish line!"

Ascot followed right behind him. "May the best detective win!" He whipped his head around and blew out a raspberry at Ford, leaving the both of them giggling their snooty giggles as they walked their snooty walks back towards civilization.

Ford huffed, hands clenched. He had sand in his hair and in his jacket and shoes and pants and speckled on his glasses and he didn't care. This wasn't some random competition, this was his brother.

Despite himself, Ford crossed his arms. "Oh you'll see," he growled. He marched back over to the swings, grabbing his bindle, and began storming off. He had a boat to catch. "You'll see."

[talekinesis]

Separated

Gravity Falls Timestuck AU fic

Summary: The Twins are sent back in time but not together

[Part 1] | [Part 2]

"WHERE DID THEY GO!?"

Stan was frantic. He had checked the whole house. Every room, every closet, every secret room, even under the couch cushions, desperate to find something.

"Why does something weird always happen with you around!?" He glared at his brother, who was pacing back and forth in the livingroom.

"First of all, you are the one who wanted me back so badly, Stanley, so stop acting like I just came in and intruded. Secondly, Dipper rolled the Infinity sided die so-"

"So you know what happened??" Stan looked at him, his eyes desperate, pleading that they could undo this.

Stanford sighed and took his glasses off to clean them on his shirt, an old anxious habit he's had since childhood. "That's the thing. Infinity Sided Die, infinite possibilities... We can only hope that wherever they are, they're safe."

-

Mabel found herself lying on the cold, hard ground. She groaned and sat up, dizzy and rubbing her head. Looking around, she realized she was outside and it was... winter.

It had just been summer, she had just been sitting with her Grunkle Stan watching Ducktective. She had just been making fun of Dipper and his nerd game.. Where was she now, what happened?

Suddenly blinded by two bright lights, she cried out and covered her eyes, stumbling and falling back into the cold, slushy snow. Tires screeched to a halt and suddenly some guy was yelling at her to get out of the road, but the child was so scared and overwhelmed that she just froze.

A car door slammed shut, and she barely registered the man getting out an approaching her.

"What the hell are you doing out here in the middle of the road during a blizzard, kid!? Go home!"

Her eyes snapped open and she uncovered her eyes. She knew that voice. "Grunkle Stan?"

The man before her definitely looked like him. Though, he was a lot younger, and a lot less put together.. which was saying something.

He stepped back. "How do you kind of know my name? Did Ricardo put you up to this? Is this a set up!?" He frantically looked around, looking like he was about to jump back into the car and leave.

"Wait, wait! Please don't leave me!" Mabel was surprised at her own voice, sounding strained. She hadn't even realized she was crying already. She sniffed and wiped her eyes on her sleeve.

"My name is Mabel Pines, I'm your grand-niece from the future."

The younger mullet version of her uncle scoffed and got back in the car. "Look, I know I'm not the smartest guy in the world, but I'm not that much of a sucker. Whoever put you up to this needs to learn how to scam people." He started the engine, causing Mabel to panic and grab the handle of his car door to prevent him from leaving.

"Please, please, I'm Sherman's granddaughter! Please believe me, I can prove it!"

This got Stan to pause. How did she know about Shermie? He narrowed his eyes and cranked the window down more so he could hear her better. "You got one minute before I drive away."

She had to wipe her eyes again and cough to clear her throat. "I'm from 2012, and in the future you're my great-uncle.. My brother and I traveled from California to Oregon to spend the summer with you-"

"Why the hell would I be living in Oregon? I know I'm traveling there now, but why would I stay-"

"Listen, Stan!" She snapped, not having the patience or the right state of mind to explain everything, "You're Stanley Pines, your twin brother is Stanford, and you have an older brother named Sherman. Sherman currently has a son named Matthew that your parents are helping raise-"

"How do you-"

"Because Matthew grows up and he's my dad! I know you're going to Oregon because Ford sent you a postcard asking you to meet him in Gravity Falls!"

Stan looked like he had seen a ghost. But these were all details she could have learned if someone was following him. "Tell me one thing I've never told anyone else before. Something only someone in my family would know."

Mabel rested her forehead against the car door, shivering violently. She was dressed for the summer, but now she was soaking wet in the middle of winter. She took in a shakey breath, thinking back to when her Stan was telling his life story.

"Y-You and Stanford had a boat.. The Stan-o-War. You were gonna sail the world together, but-"

She was cut off by Stan opening the door and pulling her inside, setting her in the passenger seat. He gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckles were white, and he was breathing hard, on the verge of something close to a panic attack. He felt like he was going to be sick.. Because he believed her. He hadn't told anyone that.

Mabel was curled up in the passenger seat, shivering. She felt better now that she was in a car with the heat on, but she was still cold. She didn't even look up when she herd the sound of a zipper, or when she felt him put his jacket around her.

"Okay.." He started, "So.. If what you're saying is true.. How did you get from 2012 Oregon to 1985 Utah?"

Her eyes widened and she sat up. "I'm in Utah!?"

"Okay so apparently you don't even know.." He sighed and started to drive. "Well, you're coming to Oregon with me. I can't leave a freezing wet child from the future alone in the snow. That good with you?"

Mabel nodded and buckled her seat belt. She pulled the jacket tighter around herself as the weight of everything finally set in. She was in 1985, in Utah. She didn't have the time measuring tape, she didn't have the journal, she didn't even have Dipper.

Dipper would have a plan of some sort, right? Where even was he? Was he still in 2012, or was he stuck in the past too?

-

Dipper pushed himself off the ground, the snow soaking his T-shirt and shorts. He shivered and breathed into his hands, looking around. Through the blizzard, he could barely make out the outline of the shack, so he started to run as fast as he could for it.

Once his sneakers hit the wooden steps he frantically pounded on the door. "S-Stan? Let me in, it's Dip-"

Before he even knew it, he was face to face with a crossbow.

"Who's there!? Have you come to steal my eyes!?"

The boy's heart stopped and he looked up at his grunkle.. or.. who his grunkle used to be?

He was staring at a younger, messier version of Ford, who looked exhausted and insane. It was scary actually. Seeing this man he was so familiar and comfortable with, but it was like looking into the eyes of a stranger. A version of his uncle who didn't even know who he was..

"N-No, I uh.. I'm Dipper-"

"I don't want any girlscout cookies. Leave." Then the door was slammed shut, and he heard at least three or four locks click shut.

Dipper knocked again, but the curtains were pulled shut.

"Darn Ford, why were you such a paranoid freak.." He muttered under his breath. Luckily he had lived here for an entire summer, so he knew how to get in. The real question was if he'd survive breaking into the house of a man with a crossbow who was more than willing to aim it at a child.

He ran around to the side of the house and to the cellar doors, starting to slam his body against them, hoping that the cold would have weakened the lock a little bit. He continued to ram his body again and again against the doors-

"What are you doing now? Stop that!"

Dipper was picked up by the back of his vest like a kitten, causing his journal to slip out. Ford picked it up and stared at it for a moment.

Without a second thought, he carried Dipper inside and shut the door. "So who are you, boy? A demon? Shapeshifter? Do you work for Bill? How did you get my journal!?"

Dipper was tossed down, grunting as he hit the floor. He turned onto his back and put his hands out as if to protect himself from the crazed man before him.

"N-No, I'm your nephew!"

"Nice try, Demon, my nephew is in New Jersey.. Though you do have a pretty convincing vessel of what he might look like."

"Your great-nephew! From the future! That journal is a future version of yours, if you don't believe me, go look!"

Ford paused. He looked down at the book in his hands. It did look faded and worn. The pages were yellowed and it looked all beaten up. He knew his was still in the basement, locked up.

"Did you say future? As in time-travel?"

Dipper let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. "Yes.. I'm Sherman's grandson.. My dad is Matthew Pines.. You were.. Surpisingly quick to believe me, I thought I'd have to like.. convince you more."

Ford helped him up, but kept the journal. "You think I haven't had my own run-in with the time police? Besides, we're in Gravity Falls, weird things happen. But just to be sure.. I'd like to ask some questions."

Dipper nodded, shivering again. The adrenaline had worn off, and he was feeling the effects of the blizzard once more. Luckily for him, Ford picked up on this and lead him into the livingroom, sitting him down in front of the fireplace.

"Right.. So.. How did you aquire this journal?" He asked.

"It was in this secret compartment out in the woods? My sister and I traveled to Oregon to spend the summer with Stan-"

"Wait, Stan? Why is Stan living in my house in the future? I called him here to make him leave."

Dipper's eyes widened and he anxiously rubbed the back of his neck. "Uh, I don't think it's a good idea to tell you too much about the future.. Like, there are certain things that happen, and need to happen in order for my present to remain the same.. If I tell you what happens, you could change it.. And if I manage to get back to 2012, and my life is completely different, it'll traumatize me and my sister.. Probably her more than me with how close she and Stan are. I can't do that to her."

Ford nodded and sat back. "That.. makes sense.. But do I tell you about my past at all? Things only I would know?"

The boy nodded. "Yes! You grew up in New Jersey, uh you and Stan had a boat... The.. man-o-war?"

"The Stan-o-War, yes.. Okay.. So you are my great nephew.. How did you get here from 2012?"

Dipper took his vest and hat off to let them dry, getting to work on his shoes as well. "You and I were playing Dungens, Dungens, and More Dungens, and I.. Well you have like this magical infinity sided die-"

"That's impossible."

"It is and it's not. I can't tell you how you get it, it would spoil the future, but when it's rolled, anything could happen. Our faces could melt into jelly, the world could turn into an egg.. Or I could get stuck in the past."

Ford listened, interested. He raised a brow. "If you knew the dangers of the die, then why did you roll it?"

Dipper groaned and buried his face in his hands. "I grabbed it by accident." He glared up at his uncle. "You're not very good at keeping dangerous items in secure places by the way, that's the one thing I will tell you. You kept that die in the same bag as the rest of our normal dice. Who even does that??"

Ford waved him off, mostly because he was unable to defend something he hadn't even done yet. "The real question is how we're going to get you back home.. Any ideas?"

Dipper thought for a moment before he perked up. "The Time Police! My presence here could alert the Time Anomaly Removal Crew and they could come and take me and Mab-.. oh.."

"What's wrong?" Ford could see the kid practically deflate, looking down at his feet.

"Well..I don't know where my sister, Mabel, is. When I rolled the die, it brought me back here, but I heard her yell too, so.. Maybe it also did something to her? But I was alone when I woke up outside, I don't know what happened to her, or if anything even did happen to her.. I feel so helpless not knowing where she is.." He hugged his knees.

"What if I get returned home but she's stuck here alone? We've never really been apart before, if she's out there in this blizzard somewhere, I don't even know what she'd do."

Ford frowned. The idea of a little girl being trapped in an unfamiliar year, by herself, in a blizzard was scary in itself, but it worried him more that she apparently would end up being his niece. But this kid was right, they had no idea where or when she was, so there wasn't much they could do about it.

He looked at the boy in front of him, who had stopped shivering, his clothes already drying from the fire. He rubbed the back of his neck. He had never been good with kids. Not even his own nephew. He nearly dropped Matthew when he first held him, and had to be reminded twice by his mother to support the head. Surprisingly, it was Stan who was better with kids. He handled Matthew perfectly the first time.

"Look, Ripper-"

"Dipper."

"Dipper.. You're right, we don't know where your sister is. She could be home in 2012, or she could be somewhere alone in the blizzard, freezing to death-"

"Is this supposed to help me feel better?" Dipper looked up at him, even more distressed.

"No, no- I mean yes, but.. Listen. Let's focus on what we can take care of now. Right now, I have a boy in my house who needs a place to sleep and probably food to eat."

Dipper looked back down at his feet. "I'm not really hungry.. But thanks.. I think I just want to go to bed.." in his own bed, in 2012, in the room he shared with his sister, but he didn't say that part out loud.

Ford nodded and stood up. "Follow me, you can stay in my room. I usually sleep in the lab anyway."

The boy got up and followed him, leaving his vest, hat, and shoes next to the fire, too mentally and emotionally exhausted to really care. He followed him up the stairs and into the 'secret' room he and Mabel fought over that one time. It was odd seeing it full of stuff with a desk and a bed.

"You.. don't mind me sleeping in here?" He asked, stepping in a bit more. The bed looked like it hadn't been slept in in a while. He yelped a little as Ford picked him up and set him on top of it, pulling the covers back.

"No, I don't mind. You clearly need it more than I do right now, and like I said, I usually sleep in the basement." He pulled the covers over him, and shut the lights off. "You get some sleep, Zipper. I have to go check all the locks at least three times each." With that, he left the room and shut the door.

"Dipper.." the kid muttered to himself.

He turned onto his side and looked out the window, the snow illuminated by the moon. He hoped wherever Mabel was, she was okay.