#young man mcgucket actually

[abyssal-author-and-artist]

Brief Little Drabble

Mabel you've made me want to do something again. How dare you/lh

Mabel -- @drifting-stars-mabel Dipper -- @drifting-stars-dipper (me actually, go check it out) McGucket -- @it-is-unseen (sorry for the ping i just got inspired)

Dipper's not sure why he's running or why his heart is beating so fast. He's panicking, and it's a familiar feeling at this point, spurred on by months of wandering the multiverse, months of seeing horrible things and not sleeping due to the pervasive nightmares.

But whatever he's running towards is worse, and he can't explain why it is, but he also can't shake the feeling.

Mabel, Mabel, Mabel, some part of his brain is whispering, the part that tells him when there's a monster behind him or when he's going to have a particularly bad nightmare. Mabel, Mabel, Mabel. She's in danger, isn't she? She has to be. He wouldn't be able to hear his heartbeat in his head if she wasn't.

And she's been so bad recently. So stressed and uncomfortable. She won't tell him what's wrong and it hurts because even if she says she trusts him, it doesn't feel like she does. It briefly crosses his head that she's protecting him, but he shakes that thought away. It's not that it's wrong - it's that he can't afford distractions right now.

The communicator in his vest screeches with feedback, and he follows it, turning it down slightly as it gets louder and louder, more staticky and more staticky, more and more persistant and keeps just getting loude-

Mabel.

She's standing in front of a man who looks like Fiddleford McGucket when he was younger. On the memories they watched. He's holding the memory gun to her head.

"Ready to forget, little lady?" he's asking, and Dipper's running, he's pushing himself as hard as he can go.

Mabel swallows audibly, or maybe she doesn't and he's just imagining it based on the little lump in her throat and the minute bob of her head. Her hands are shaking so badly he can see it as he runs towards her.

"Y-yeah. I think I-"

"MABEL," he's screaming, wedging his body between her and the young man McGucket, batting the gun away with one hand. His chest is facing her and he turns slightly to fix McGucket with a glare with all the rage in his tiny little body. So, so tiny, so helpless, so pathetic.

"Dipper?" Mabel asks, her voice breaking in a way that her voice never does. "W-what are you doing?"

"What am I doing? Mabel, what are you doing? That's the memory gun. Were you really gonna go behind my back like that? Just wipe your memory?"

"Dipper, you weren't supposed to be here, I-"

"

I wasn't supposed to be here? Oh, so you're upset at me for stopping you from wiping your memory? Mabel you know what that thing does to people. You were there when we got McGucket's memories back. That- that thing drives people insane! It does the same thing that drugs in movies always do. Do you wanna end up like Old Man McGucket? Mabel, I-I can't believe you. You went behind my back to do this. To wipe your memories. Would it have stopped here?"

"What are you-"

"Would you have just wiped this? Would you have wiped something else next?"

"No, Dip-dop, I was just gonna wipe this one thing."

"Oh, really? And you wouldn't wipe anything else? Bill possessing me? Gideon kidnapping you in a giant robot? Anything?"

"No, really."

"I don't believe you."

"Dipper, you don't understand," she pleads, her voice cracking. "I'm a wreck over this. I-I can't sleep, I can't eat, I can barely think." She lifts her shaking hands. "I'm a mess, Dipper, I need this. I just, I just need it this once. You don't understand what I've been through, what I'm struggling with."

"I don't understand? Mabel, I've seen shit too," he says, cursing without even thinking. Her eyes go wide but she doesn't stop him. "Do you know what I've been through? I haven't slept in literal months. Sure, I've tried, but that's no excuse for actually doing it. Mabel, I can't even touch you without being terrified you'll turn to bugs in my hands."

His hands shake as he lifts them, nearly as much as hers do, and a flash of panic rushes through him, the intrinsic fear of her dissolving into a mass of wriggling creatures, writhing in his hands.

He grabs her shoulders, holding her arms as steady as his own trembling ones can manage.

"We're both suffering, Mabel. I may not know what you're going through, but I can. I can learn. I can listen. Just- just tell me, Mabes. Let me into your messed up head."

"I..." she glances behind him, and belatedly he remembers that he shoved McGucket to the side to get to her. He glances at him to see McGucket with his arms crossed, tapping one finger on the memory gun.

"Are y'all done yet?" He makes a pointed expression. "I offered to help, not watch whatever this slop was. Little lady, do y'all want yer memory wiped or not?"

"I..." she glances back at Dipper. He's so close to her, and it's terrifying him but he does nothing but hold her closer.

Mabel stops shaking.

"Thanks for offering, Mr. McGucket. I... I think..." she takes a deep breath in. Her arms wrap around Dipper and he's so happy she's chosen him.

Then she's pulling him to her chest, one hand on the back of his head.

"I think you should do us both."

The memory gun hurts. He forgets it in seconds.

[turtletoria]

the krampus incident from the book of bill if it was out of character and stupid

[lostrealities0]

Stan and Fiddleford would be mutuals on Tumblr

[zephrunsimperium]

Fic Recs!

Here's a list of my top five Gravity Falls fan fiction recommendations!

Jersey Boy (incomplete, infrequent updates) Ford-Centric, FiddAuthor, Teen & Up Audiences Summary: Jersey Boy takes place in 1969 and follows 18-year-old Stanford Pines, fresh out of high school with a hole in his heart that a twin brother used to fill. The story mostly deals with depression, the repercussions of abuse/trauma, and internalized homophobia, following Ford as he navigates falling in love with his roommate - Fiddleford McGucket, engineering major and anti-war hippie - under the shadow of the Vietnam War and a world riddled with anti-semitism and homophobia. Thoughts: Without a shred of exaggeration, the most beautiful, thought provoking writing I have ever come across. This fic changed my life and revolutionized my perspective on writing as a medium; an absolute must-read.

If You Love Me, Come Clean (complete) FiddAuthor, Mature Summary: A thorough overview of Ford and Fidds’ relationship from college to post-weirdmageddon. Thoughts: I totally consider this fic canon. It made me sob and I stayed up until 4 AM to finish it.

Sacrifice of Stanford Pines (complete) Stan Twins, Fiddleford, Bill, Teen & Up Audiences Summary: When Stan doesn’t answer the postcard, Ford must go to New Mexico to visit his twin himself. Thoughts: One of the very first fics I read and still one of my favorites. Just a darn good time.

Knowing Me, Knowing You (incomplete, infrequent updates) BillFord, Fiddleford, Mature Summary: Instead of inviting Fiddleford to help work on the portal, Ford builds a body for Bill and the demon is not so happy to be stuck under the confines of mortality. Rom-Com hijinks between the man and his muse ensue. Thoughts: This fic is absurdly long, but reading it was a delight; it had me laughing like crazy. It’s written and organized incredibly well with a refreshingly nuanced take on BillFord. The characterization of Bill is particularly amazing because he’s definitely a complete person, but he’s very clearly inhuman. All of Bill’s underlings have individual personalities and the sci-fi elements are out of this world.

O Brother (incomplete, currently updating) Stan Twins, Fiddleford, Teen & Up Audiences Summary: The young twins go forward in time to meet their opposite brother in 1982. Bill is a jerk, Fiddleford is an absolute mom to little Stanley, and Stan is Actually The Cutest as a 12 year old and a 30 year old. Thoughts: Some of the most genuine Stan twins cuteness I have ever seen. I’m just a sucker for the li’l kiddos.

[damnghouligans]

I find we don’t give McGucket his flowers often enough and I’m a little tired of us pretending young McGucket isn’t super fuckable and absolutely husband material.

Mind you, this is all coming from a lesbian’s perspective, so I might be missing something…. But idk I don’t think I am:

He’s objectively cute

He’s tall

He grew up on a farm so that twink’s got a SURPRISING amount of functional strength no one would clock onto

He makes a bunch of really thoughtful handmade presents, so you KNOW he’s a great listener

Mans is an electrical AND mechanical engineer, which is SO much clout if you’re trying to impress your family

He basically follows Ford around like a mother hen the whole time, so I don’t think you’d have to TELL him to pick up around the house or anything like that.

** this likely also means he’d be good at taking care of you when you’re sick

Because he’s super handy you’re never gonna have to pay to get your shit repaired. Mans can fix your car and replace your oil AND make it into a fucking transformer if you ask

If you’re into the sciences, I feel like Fiddleford would be easier to talk to than Ford. Like, he’d explain shit in a way that makes sense for the rest of us plebs.

Southern accents are cute

I think the obvious cons are that the man is clearly in love with Ford in the narrative but like fuck it that’s never stopped a fandom before…..

Is it all the random southernisms like having to like bluegrass and being fine with chewing tobacco and spit buckets??? Or it is because he’s not fuckable when he’s an old man with a raccoon wife???? He’s a fucking McMillionare now so he could become hot again if he wanted to 🤷🏽

I need someone who actually LIKES men to answer this one for me: why no simping for young man mcgucket???

[cbmagus49]

Sunday sketch time ^^

...Y'know, now that I think about it, I think this might actually be the first time I've drawn Old Man McGucket?? Like I've drawn Fiddleford a bunch by now, but it's always been young Fidds, not his usual 'crazy old kook' self. That feels weird :|

[thornfield13713]

97 + 12 Fiddlestan

Okay!

So, I'm going to hew pretty close to the canon setting for this one, because...I like it. So, where are they travelling from? Or to? I lean towards this being a Weirdmageddon thing - the plan fails, and Bill is victorious, and decides to mark his victory by scattering the consciousnesses of his victims across time...thereby inadvertently sowing the seeds of his own destruction, but...that is the way it tends to go.

So, the mind that ends up farthest back is Ford Pines, who wakes up in his bed at Backupsmore with the memories of the apocalypse fresh in his mind. The first thing he wants to do is call his brother, whom he last saw being horrifically ripped apart molecule by molecule in front of him before Ford met the same fate. It takes him fully half an hour to remember...right. Cellphones haven't been invented yet. And he has no idea where Stan is or what he could be doing. Nor does he have the resources to go looking. He can work to avert the apocalypse - he'll work hard, go back to Gravity Falls, and this time he'll know better than to play into Bill's hands, might even be able to find some way to put an end to that infuriating triangle-man for good. He has to go back to Gravity Falls, because if it's not him, Bill will find some other sucker, and they won't know what Ford does. They won't be able to handle the situation as well as Ford could. He doesn't need to find his brother to save the world.

But. He can't stop thinking about it anyway. About how Stanley looked when he arrived at the sh- at Ford's house. About the hints let slip, years later, about what his life before that had been like. About Stanley spending thirty years working to bring Ford home and - all right, succeeding at the worst possible moment, but...looking back now, with the perspective of having lost his brother horrifically before they could make any sort of real amends...that was a lot of work. So, he goes looking, as best he can. He might save up for a private detective or similar, because the 1970s were kind of short on means to track people down, and Ford is really feeling the loss of the internet he had been starting to get used to in the 2010s.

He doesn't get the money together until he's in post-grad, and even then, it takes a while, particularly as Stan keeps changing addresses and adopting new identities. Eventually, though, Ford finds him. In prison in Texas, okay, but...alive. He has to go in person, citing a family emergency and skipping out in the middle of term-time, to visit, and the look on Stan's face on the other side of the glass is enough to tell Ford that...he's alone here. This is the Stan of this time, hungry and desperate and not quite believing what he sees and god, he's so young, how did Ford never process how young he was when he got kicked out before? They talk, anyway. Ford tells Stan what he's been doing, hears a...very much censored and played for laughs version of Stan's own recent years...and then Ford leaves, with a promise to come back in a month or so, the next time he can get away from his studies. Stan, who had been planning a jailbreak, ends up serving out his whole sentence just for those regular visits, patching up his relationship with his brother slowly, awkwardly, and with not a few backslides and difficult moments, but steadily. His sentence finishes out not long after Ford gets his research grant, and when that happens, Ford invites him to Gravity Falls.

And all of the above is just background, because the story actually starts here: Stan Pines, waking up in bed in Gravity Falls, more than thirty years before he remembers getting killed by Bill, with the memories of those thirty years still clear in his head. And, the same morning, Fiddleford McGucket turning up at Ford's door, having driven straight from Tennessee to try and stop Ford from summoning Bill.

Neither Stan nor Fidds trusts Ford on his word that he has no intention of trying any such thing this time, he's just living in Gravity Falls, trying to learn everything he can and avoid making the worst of his past mistakes again. And also trying to head off Bill using some other poor schmuck to do the same thing. Which means they're all three living in the Shack together, watching each other just to be sure. It's the wreck of Fidds' marriage, but...that barely feels real to him now. His wife left him decades ago, and- Okay, most of the physiological reasons for his mental decline aren't there now, but...that was only ever half the story. He feels fundamentally cut off from other people. So does Stan, thirty years older than he looks, knowing so much more about the people of Gravity Falls than he can reasonably explain. And neither of them is- they know, logically, that things have been better this time around, but- neither of them is quite willing to open up to Ford yet (though this does get better over time) so they gravitate to one another instead - the only people who can really understand their experiences.

Not really sure how things evolve from here - probably a loose monster-of-the-week format with relationship-building around the sides - but Bill is still out there, and may reach out to this little group. And, when that doesn't work, he's liable to take an interest in just what it is that's making these humans so unusually resistant to his pitch routine.

[e350tb]

Gravity Falls - The Matchmabel - Chapter V

Chapter V: Strangeshrooms by Starlight

“We now return to the hit 1996 film Olympic, starring Raphael DeCaprisun and Kate Winslow!”

“ICEBURG, A LITTLE WAY TO STARBOARD!”

“So it is. Thank you Lookout.”

“I don’t get the point of this movie.”

Stan and Melody sat in front of the TV. The sun had gone down a while ago, and the room was lit only by the glow of the television.

“It’s about the romance of ocean liners in the 1910s,” said Melody.

“But… but why would you set it on a voyage where nothing goes wrong?” asked Stan. “The whole movie’s only ninety minutes!”

He took a sip from his cola.

“No wonder it bombed against Titanic.”

There was a slam as the front door opened, and soon Mabel and Soos entered the room.

“Did you do it?” asked Soos.

“Yeah, yeah, sure, I consigned it to the fire,” replied Stan.

“Good,” nodded Mabel, sitting down. “Candy’s delivered a note I wrote to Pacifica, so we’re all set for tomorrow.”

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” asked Melody. “I mean, I like matchmaking as much as the next person, but wouldn’t it be better to just let Dipper and Pacifica get together naturally?”

“Have you seen Dipper?” replied Mabel. “If we let him wait until he’s ready to confess to Paz, it’ll take years!”

“I’m with Mabel on this one,” added Stan. “I don’t think that kid’s ever been on a date. At least, not since that road trip back in 2012.”

“And that was only because Stan put him up to it,” added Mabel.

“I was stuck in a maze at the time,” said Soos.

“Does… he need to go on one?” Melody tilted her head.

“Dating is a formative part of a young boy’s life, Melody,” said Stan. “Especially dating rich people. Then you can mooch off ‘em.”

“I don’t know,” said Soos. “I mean, I never dated until I met Melody. And to be honest, Mr. Pines, your love life has been kind of… not good?”

Stan narrowed his eyes at Soos.

“Soos, go to your room.”

“But… I own the house.”

“Look, I’ve seen Dipper at home in California.” Mabel waved her arms to emphasise her point. “He’s actually been asked on dates - only twice in five years, but still! And he said no to both of them! I mean, I did pay both of them to ask him out but that’s not the point! And seeing that box out makes me think he’s still hanging on for Wendy, and he needs to get past that!”

She wrapped her hands around her knees.

“Dipper’s been going through a lot lately,” she said. “And I just want to give him something to be happy about.”

Stan raised his brow.

“Is this something I should know about?” he asked.

Mabel looked away.

“Besides,” she added. “Wouldn’t it be nice to have Pacifica in the family?”

Melody and Soos exchanged looks.

“Well, I guess one date can’t hurt,” replied Melody. “But why not just wait until they meet up on Saturday?”

“Because it needs to be a big romantic gesture!” exclaimed Mabel, jumping to her feet. “You can’t just wake up one day and decide you’re in love!”

“Sure you can,” said Melody.

“No! I’ve been planning this for years, and… argh! You just don’t get it!”

She marched up the stairs, shaking her head. Stan, Soos and Melody exchanged glances.

“Did she just say she’s been planning this for years?” asked Soos.

“It’s Mabel, she probably has a plan for me hooking up with Old Man McGucket,” Stan shrugged.

“I HAVE THREE PLANS FOR THAT!” Mabel called down the stairs.

-----

Ford drew the marshmallow back from the campfire, taking a bite from it.

“Do you know,” he said, “there’s a dimension made entirely out of marshmallows. Marshmallow White House, marshmallow Everest, even marshmallow Wright Brothers.”

He frowned as he gazed into the fire.

“They flew too close to the sun,” he said gravely.

“So there’s, like, infinite versions of us out there?” asked Wendy.

“Yes,” replied Ford. “The idea drove more than a few dimensional travellers mad. Others became nihilists, convinced that nothing in the universe mattered. A friend of mine created an authoritarian society consisting of nothing but variants of himself - I meant to check on him, but his entire dimension became inaccessible after a few years.”

He finished the marshmallow.

“He lost track of what was important,” he said. “Sure, it’s easy to think you don’t matter when there’s an infinite number of yourself - but all the same, there’s only one you.”

“So, there’s a infinite number of Mabels, but I only have one twin sister?” suggested Dipper.

“Precisely so,” replied Ford. “Friends, family - the difference between he and I was that he viewed them as entirely replaceable. Me? Never.”

He tossed his charred stick aside.

“But I didn’t bring you both out here to contemplate infinity,” he said. “Let’s try some of these bad boys! …is that what the kids say? Bad boys?”

“Well, you’ve got the spirit,” replied Wendy, smirking.

Ford chuckled and pulled a sack of strangeshrooms over, taking a notepad out of his jacket. He’d already written the effects of the ones he’d tasted in the field, and now he rifled through the bag for ones he had not tried.

“Alright, here’s a pair I was looking at earlier,” he said, pulling out a small green one and a tall, thin pink one. “Remember, lick, don’t bite.”

He handed the green one to Wendy and the blue one to Dipper.

“Alright,” mused Dipper, “here goes…”

He closed his eyes and licked the strangeshroom. It tasted a little bit like cinnamon, but he didn’t feel any different.

“Eh bien, je ne me sens pas différent…”

Wendy snorted as Ford raised his eyebrows.

“Quoi?” quizzed Dipper, “Qu'est ce qu'il y a de si drôle?”

“Dude, is that French?” asked Wendy.

“It must be a member of the Babel family!” exclaimed Ford.

Dipper tilted his head.

“Pourquoi parles-tu anglais?”

Ford cleared his throat.

“Dipper, tu ne te souviens pas?” he asked. “Vous êtes anglophone!”

“Dipper? Je m'appelle Maison! Et nous avons toujours spoken French, that’s - what the heck was that?”

Dipper gazed at the mushroom, eyes wide.

“Whoa!” he exclaimed. “For a second there, I was convinced I was French!”

“A particularly powerful Babel Strangeshroom, then!” exclaimed Ford, writing frantically in his notebook.

“And dangerous,” added Wendy. “Who wants to be French?”

“There are an infinite amount of French Wendys,” said Ford mischievously.

“Ugh! I don’t even wanna think about that!”

She lifted up her own strangeshroom.

“Well, here goes nothing…”

She licked the strangeshroom. This one tasted a little sour.

“How’s it feeeeeeeeeee…”

Like a record slowing to a stop, Dipper and Ford gradually halted.

Wendy glanced around. The breeze, the rustling of the branches, even the flames of the fire had stopped - no, they were moving, just incredibly slowly. She ran her hand in front of her face - it left a blurry imprint behind it.

“Aw, sweet,” she said. “Superspeed.”

She got up, walking around the fire and leaving a blur behind her. She reached Ford, picked the pencil out of his hand and turned it around, so that now the eraser faced the paper. She then stepped over to Dipper, lifted his hat off his head and left it hovering in the air above him. Then she sat back down in her original spot and waited.

“...eeeeeeellllll, Wen-oof!”

Dipper’s hat fell back onto his head, while Ford lifted up his pencil in confusion.

“I’m guessing either time compression or superspeed?” he asked.

“Something like that,” replied Wendy. “Neither of you were moved for a whole minute.”

“Fascinating,” mused Ford. “This could be useful if we’re ever faced with another apocalyptic situation.”

He turned his pen around and scribbled some more notes, before grabbing another pair from the bag.

“These two look like the same species,” he said, holding up two fat, silver mushrooms. “We’ll need to see if they have the same effect. Dipper?”

He tossed one to him.

“Well,” Dipper shrugged. “Here goes!”

They both licked their strangeshroom. As they did so, Wendy blinked - then she let out a loud snort.

“What?” Ford tilted her head, her voice notably lighter.

“Dang, Ford!” exclaimed Wendy. “You’re really rocking that foxy grandma look!”

Ford looked down at herself and blushed, running a hand through her longer hair.

“Hmm,” she mused. “This one could have medicinal properties…”

Next to her, Dipper cupped her hands over her face as she looked down at herself.

“Oh,” she said. “This is… this is weird.”

“Not a bad look, Dip!” said Wendy, chuckling.

“Oh man, I sound almost like Mabel.” Dipper clutched her head. “Wait, voices sound different in your own head - is this what Mabel hears when she talks?”

Wendy blinked, and Ford and Dipper were back to normal.

“Well, that was interesting,” said Ford, grabbing his notepad.

“Save that one, I wanna try it later,” said Wendy.

Dipper rubbed his temples. “You’re welcome to it,” he muttered.

“I tried this one earlier, but it didn’t work,” said Ford, pulling out a three-headed strangeshroom - one green, one pink and one blue. “Perhaps each head needs to be activated. I’ll pass it around.”

He licked the green head and then passed it to Dipper. Dipper swallowed, then licked the blue one. He handed it to Wendy, who licked the pink one.

There was a burst of energy, and all three flew backwards, landing beside a stream a few dozen metres from the campsite. Wendy pulled herself up, rubbing her head.

“Was it a bomb?” she asked. “Wait, why’s my voice echoing?”

The three got up and looked at their reflections in the stream. All were glowing - Ford’s hair and eyes were green, Dipper’s were blue and Wendy’s were red. They all hovered a little bit off the ground.

“Uhh… okay,” said Dipper.

“I feel like this has been done,” said Ford flatly.

-----

Several hours later, Dipper sat by the dying embers of the fire. Wendy and Ford had both drifted off to sleep in their sleeping bags, but nagging thoughts were keeping Dipper awake, and they simply would not leave him alone.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the college questionnaire.

“What I want out of college is…” he whispered to himself.

He sighed and fell onto his back, looking up at the stars.

“The boy’s got a prodigious mind, Mrs. Pines, but he wastes it thinking about werewolves and vampires and… and gremobolins! He needs direction!”

“I’m putting my foot down, Mason. Either you promise me you’ll finish this college application, or you don’t go to Gravity Falls.”

“Your mother’s right, Dipper. You can’t live in this fantasy world forever…”

In the night sky above him, he could see the Big Dipper. For a brief moment before he drifted away, he wished he was up there.

[cryptidjeepers]

perhaps a college ford and fiddleford?

i have such a weakness for these nerds

Send me drawing requests!

[ifwebefriends]

Gravity Falls Rewatch: The Finale S2E21 Weirdmageddon 4: Somewhere in the Woods

Aw man series finale, it’s been a long road y’all

Love that recap Soos

Pacifica and Robbie could be good friends I think

Those tapestries remind me of A Link Between Worlds

How much did Alex have to fight to be able to say “suicide mission” here?

“You would have seen him for the scam artist he is” that’s actually a great point ngl

Finally! The metal plate in Ford’s head came back!

“Surprised you didn’t recognize it” yeah it was different before huh?

The pain in Ford’s eyes when he points the memory gun at Stanley I-

Stan’s character development arc ending here is just mwah

STANLEY BADASS MOMENTS STANLEY BEING THE BADDEST BITCH EVER MOMENTS STANLEY BEING UNAFRAID IN FRONT OF A LITERAL CHAOS DEMON MOMENTS

THAT PUNCH WAS FUCKING SICK BRO FR AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH

HELL YEAH BILL GET FUCKED DIE AND GO TO HELL BITCH

Okay I think the Stan vs. Bill fight is my favorite scene in Gravity Falls it’s just so fucking epic and cool I love it

I’m kinda disappointed that the Zodiac didn’t play a larger role in defeating Bill but the way it played out is so satisfying I almost don’t mind

The frown on Ford’s face when he finished erasing Stan’s mind I :(

“You’re our hero, Stanley” BRO I 🥺🥺🥺🥺

Aww Stan not recognizing Soos must have hurt Soos a lot :(

Tourist Trapped apparently happened on the second day that Dipper and Mabel were in Gravity Falls

The old mayor showed up as a zombie!!

Robbie’s parents still being creepy!

“None of us really understand what just happened, and none of us want to.” Lmao true

Blubs and Durland ship confirmation wooooooo!

HELL YEAH FUCK THE NORTHWEST PARENTS AND THEY DUG THEIR OWN GRAVE!!!

“You’re only going to have one pony now” okay so I guess Pacifica likes ponies (was she an MLP fan?)

I kinda want to see a spin-off series about what McGucket is getting up to in the old Northwest mansion

“Town hero Stanley Pines” bro I- 🥺🥺🥺 okay

Bodacious T stuck!!! I’m actually happy for Toby!

So if the birthday party is on their actual birthday, then Dipper and Mabel’s final day in town is August 31st

Gideon is trying to be normal!! I’m happy for him!

“I have everything I wanted” DUDE

Pacifica is friends with them now!!!

Dipper and Mabel got some thoughtful gifts :)

Soos gets to run the Mystery Shack!!! I’m so happy for him!!!

Awww that empty attic room makes me sad

“Candy and Grenda, thank you for being my people” the callback to Double Dipper I-

Stan and Ford both saying “can it Soos” at the same time they’re getting along again!!!!!

Wendy and Dipper are still close friends!!!!!!!! I love that for them!!!

The twins and Stan understand each other!!!! Even with Stan’s weak attempt at an abrasive facade!!!!

“Ready to head into the unknown?” “Nope! Let’s do it” BRO BRO BRO AHHHHHHHHHHH

Before the twins came Stan didn’t have any family but now he has his brother back and a good relationship with the twins

I love how the first episode started with a Dipper narration and the last episode ends with a Dipper narration I am going feral

Melody is working with Soos at the Mystery Shack!!!!

Stan O’ War II!!!

COOL END CREDITS LETS GOOO

Dippers 3 and 4 hanging out!

Grenda and Marius hanging out together!!!

Dipper and Mabel live in Piedmont, CA

Amazing show, incredible show, outstanding show, love it love it love it, even more then when I was young

[nataliedanovelist]

GF - Timestuck AU: The Power of Mabel ch.2

While fighting over a time machine so one twin can win a pig or the other can win the heart of a girl, Mabel is left stranded in a snowy forest with no time machine and no brother. Oops.

The BEAUTIFUL art pieces were done by @clownwry and @elishevart ! THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! 😭❤️💋

ch.1 - ch.3

~~~~~~~~~~

Ford was way more nervous than he was letting on.

She had long, pretty brown hair, braces over her teeth, sneakers, a skirt, and a sweater that allowed the cold air to pass through it. Her cheeks were slightly chubby with youth and nosy, as well as her nose, due to the freezing weather. Her eyes matched her hair perfectly, and though they were clouded with fear and confusion, Ford swore he could see sparkling behind the clouds, sparkling that made itself well-known when she asked if she could make him a sweater or when she saw his hands.

She had long, pretty brown hair, braces over her teeth, sneakers, a skirt, and a sweater that allowed the cold air to pass through it. Her cheeks were slightly chubby with youth and nosy, as well as her nose, due to the freezing weather. Her eyes matched her hair perfectly, and though they were clouded with fear and confusion, Ford swore he could see sparkling behind the clouds, sparkling that made itself well-known when she asked if she could make him a sweater or when she saw his hands.

Ford would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy Mabel’s company, but she was practically a stranger, and keeping a random girl in his house that was located in the middle of the woods was fishy and Ford couldn’t help but feel like it was illegal. But he couldn’t leave her out in the snow and send her on her way to find her home and family, so he decided to keep her warm or healthy, simply because it was the right thing to do.

But then she said she had no parents to call. Only a brother, who was lost, too. Ford can remember the old rule: If you’re lost, stay where you are until you are found. So he then decided that she could stay here until her brother found her, which should be by morning at the latest.

Still, he felt uneasy, so once Mabel was settled in front of the TV, Ford excused himself and went into the kitchen to make a phone call. There was only one man who would have better judgement in this situation than him.

The phone rang a few times. Ford checked his watch to make sure it was a reasonable time to call. It wasn’t Sunday, was it? But then the ringing stopped. “Howdy! This here Fiddleford McGucket.”

“Hey there, buddy.” Ford smiled to himself at hearing that cheerful voice. “How have you been?”

“Stanford Pines! Good t’hear from ya!” Fiddleford cheered. “M’just fine, just fine! How are ya?! Ya haven’t gotten eaten by monsters yet, have ya?” He laughed, making his old friend chuckle along.

“No no, I’m alright.” Ford almost brought up the reason he called, but then he remembered something very important to Fiddleford. “How are Emma-May and Tater?”

“OH! They’re doin’ great! We’re all very happy n’ doin’ well! Ya won’t believe how big Tate’s gotten since ya last saw him! He’s already crawlin’!”

“Wow, that's great to hear.” Ford sat in a chair at the kitchen table. “Has he said his first words yet?”

“No, not quite. Actually, he’s extremely quiet. Not a lot of baby-babble.” Fiddleford chuckled. “The doctor says that’s perfectly normal. Tate’s so smart, he’s reachin’ for specific colors n’ such, n’ ya can tell he’s thinkin’ a lot n’ knows what’s goin’ on, he just got nothin’ t’say.”

“I was very shy when I was young.” Ford commented casually. He didn't feel like mentioning why. “If Tate is anything like either of his parents he’s very intelligent.”

“Oh, he’s so much like both of us it’s scary. Ya know Emma-May, so clever n’ quiet n’ such. Tate’s got all that. But he already looks so much like me! But he’s got his mama’s hair! N’ Santy Claus brought ‘im this fun little fishin’ game where ya fish for plastic fish with a pole with a magnet on it, n’ he loves it! I can’t wait to take ‘im fishin’ when he’s big enough! Ya really outta give yourself a break n’ come down for a visit, he’d move to see his Uncle Ford again.”

Ford’s face felt hot. “Perhaps. Spring is when a lot of anomalies are active and breeding, so i would prefer not to miss that, but maybe I could visit for a weekend before that…”

“Well, no pressure, I won’t assume anythang until ya tell me to, just know there’s always a bed for ya here.”

“Thank you, Fiddleford. The same for you and your family. The clean air will do everyone some good.”

“Oh, I’m sure.” Fiddleford sighed happily and perked up. “So! Whatcha callin’ for? Not that I’m not happy just t’chat, but ya never call.”

Ford laughed and shrugged to himself. “I suppose I don’t. I’m sorry.”

“No need t’be sorry, Stanford, just wanna know what’s up.”

“Well, I was hoping to get your advice on something.”

“Shoot.”

“Um… well…” Ford rubbed the back of his neck, unsure how to tell him this. “I heard some unusual sounds outside today…”

“What kind of unusual sounds?”

“Cracks, like lightning. And some faint yelling.” Ford answered. “I thought it might be a tree branch or a new anomaly to catalogue, but when I opened the door a young girl was standing there in the snow with no coat.”

“Heavens! Is she alright?!”

“She’s okay, no frostbite. She was cold, but after sitting by the fire, drinking some hot chocolate, and changing into some dry clothes, she’s okay now.”

“Well, good.”

“So of course I brought her in. I tried to call her parents, she probably got lost playing…”

“Sure.”

“... but she says she doesn’t have any parents.”

“Oh.” Fiddleford sighed. “Oh. Now, wait, are ya sure she didn’t just say that so ya wouldn’t call?”

Ford chuckled and said, “I first thought that too, but she looked too sad to be lying.”

“Okay, I see. Does she got somebody ya can call?”

“She says she has a brother, but he was out there, too. So he is probably out there looking for her and therefore nowhere near a phone.”

“Fair enough, okay. So, I reckon y’all are waitin’ for him t’come ‘round.”

“Yup.”

“Well sounds to me like you’ve handled this all pretty well.” Fiddleford said confidently.

“You think so?” Ford asked. “I can’t help but feel like I’m doing something wrong. Like I’m missing something. Am I doing something wrong?”

“Nonsense, buddy, you’re doin’ great.” Fiddleford assured. “Look here, ya can’t just leave a young gurl out in the snow t’try t’find her way home...”

“I agree.”

“... so ya really got one option n’ that’s t’keep an eye on her n’ let her in as a guest. N’ ya tried t’call, but nothin’. The best thang ya can do right now is be there for this lil’lady n’ just be kind t’her. N’ if nobody comes for her by mornin’, why don’t ya go into town n’ see if anybody knows her, then they can help y’all out.”

Ford nodded, then remembered that his best friend couldn’t see it, so he said, “Yeah, that sounds like a good plan. Thank you, Fiddleford.”

“You’re welcome. N’ hey, are ya okay?” He asked seriously.

“Yes, yes I’m okay. I just want to make sure I do this right.”

“O’course. I understand. Ya want me t’come down there n’ give a hand?”

“No, that’s not necessary. I’m sure Mabel will find her brother in the morning.”

“Mabel, huh? Well, if y’all don’t, please call me. N’ even if ya do find her brother, call me. Keep me updated.”

“I will. Thank you, Fiddleford.”

“Anytime, Stanford.”

~~~~~~~~~~

When Mr. Ford gave Mabel the remote for the old TV and went into the kitchen, she decided to use her awesome detective skills to figure out what year it was. If it was before Grunkle Stan lived here and opened the Mystery Shack, she must be pretty far back in time. But she had no way of knowing if it was 1999 or 2005 or the 50s.

The TV was old, but so was Grunkle Stan’s in her time. So Mr. Ford could have had this TV for a long time and didn’t want to replace it. 

Okay, so when was the TV made? Mabel didn’t know. Dipper would have known.

Okay, Grunkle Stan mentioned watching TV when he was a kid once or twice. So at least Mabel was when Stan was a kid, okay. 

Mabel turned the TV on and it was in color. Okay, so she wasn’t too far back in time. But the TV was playing a commercial for clear skin. The picture was gritty and all the people in it had puffy hair and long socks and oh my god was that woman wearing legwarmers?! Mabel grinned at seeing her favorite fashion on TV, but then her face dropped. When was she?

She tapped her chin and tried to think of how to know the date without being suspicious. She could ask Mr. Ford, but that might be suspicious. Mabel decided to start flicking through channels to try to guess what year she was in based on what was airing. A lot of shows were about cowboys, space, or game shows. Huh. Okay.

All the TV shows were definitely older. Nothing her dad would watch from when he was a kid, so if Mabel had to guess by everyone’s crazy air, the cheesy TV shows, and the music occasionally playing, she was in the 70s.

Huh. Okay. But she needed an exact year. So Mabel turned off the TV, saw an old radio on a desk, and turned it on to listen.

“... cuz it’s cold doesn’t mean you can't boogie, folks! So grab someone you wanna get warm with, turn up the music, and get your bodies warm in the coolest way possible! Here’s Night Fever, by the Bee Gees!”

Mabel grinned at the disco music. Her personal favorite song from these guys was More Than a Woman, but Night Fever would do. For a moment Mabel forgot her mission, jumped off the couch and left the blanket behind, and in the over-sized gray t-shirt Mr. Ford gave her while her clothes were drying, she danced along to the music, singing the chorus since those were the only words she knew.

“When you reach out for me. Yeah, and the feelin' is right,

Then I get night fever, night fever. We know how to do it! Gimme that night fever, night fever. We know how to show it!”

Mabel laughed at herself as she spun around in her socks and tried to do the point-and-hype dance she didn’t know the name to, but everyone did it when a disco song played.

Little did she know that Ford had returned to check on her, and was smiling at her as she shook her hips and waved her hair around and had fun. He leaned against the doorway and planned to let her dance in peace, but when she did a spin and saw him, she grinned and took his hand. “C’mon, Mr. Ford, come dance with me!”

Ford chuckled and shook his head. “No, no! I can’t dance!”

“You got two legs that aren’t broken?”

“Yes.”

“Then you can dance! C’mon!” Mabel encouraged, let him go when they were both in the middle of the room, and she started to dance again. “Don’t make me dance alone!” She even pulled an evil move and gave him puppy eyes. Rude.

Ford smiled slyly at her and hesitantly copied her boogie moves. It was true that Ford never liked to dance, but there was no one around but Mabel, and though he had only known her for an hour or more, he was sure she would never make fun of him.

And he was right.

“Wow! Look at you, Mr. I-Can’t-Dance! Yeah!” Mabel hopped on the couch, standing, and took Ford’s hand. “Here, I’ll spin you!”

Ford laughed and allowed it, doing a single spin, but then scooping her in his arms to dip her and then let her down, making her laugh as they continued to dance. 

“Alright alright, you crazy cats, that was Night Fever by the Bee Gees! It's a snowy day here in the heart of Oregon, with snow flurries coming in harder all night, but it should clear up by morning and be a fun day to go out and play! The date is January 26th, 1978 in case you gotta write a check or mail a thank you note to a friend or family member. I’m still writing letters for Christmas! We’ll be right back with some of your favorites after a word or two from our sponsors, so don’t go anywhere!”

Mabel stared at the radio. “Wow, 1978.” She breathed. Her parents were only kids right now, maybe only six or seven-years-old. Wow.

Ford chuckled. “I know, I’m still in the bad habit of writing ‘77.”

Mabel realized her mistake, but was grateful her host misunderstood her. “Me too.”

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m ready for dinner. How about some ramen noodles?”

“Yes, please! Can we play a game after we eat?”

“Sure. I don’t have many board games, but I do have a deck of cards.”

“Do you know any card tricks?!”

“A few.” Ford admitted, wiggling his fingers. “There are some advantages to having more fingers than average.”

Mabel grinned up at him and followed him to the kitchen for dinner.

[thelastspeecher]

I finally got my gay little hands on the last volume I needed of Smallville Season 11, and that inspired me to revisit some Smallville AU stuff. Specifically, I looked at what all I had written for the Angie version of the AU (where Angie takes Clark's place) and decided it wasn't enough. So I wrote some more. Okay. I wrote a lot more. Enjoy.

—————————————————————————————— 

              Ford parked his beater car in the driveway of the McGucket farmstead.  To his surprise, the McGuckets, the family that had hired him as their farmhand, were already waiting on the porch for him.

              That’s odd.  I didn’t tell them when exactly I would be arriving.  No, they probably just heard me coming.  These gravel roads are loud.  Ford got out of the car, smiling hesitantly.

              “Hello!” he called.

              “Howdy!” replied Mr. McGucket.  Ford’s smile became more genuine.  He found it charming that Mr. and Mrs. McGucket had kept their southern accents despite living in Smallville for quite some time.  Ford pushed open the gate surrounding the house’s front yard and walked up to the McGuckets waiting for him.  There were three people about Ford’s age there with Mr. and Mrs. McGucket.

              “Welcome to our farm,” Mrs. McGucket said warmly.  “Did ya find the place all right?”

              “Yes.  It certainly helped that there was a large sign by your mailbox,” Ford said.

              “We best introduce ya to our kids.  Kids, this is our new farmhand, Stanford Pines.”  Mrs. McGucket pointed at the tallest of the three McGucket children, a young man with sandy blond hair and circular reading glasses.  “Fiddleford’s the oldest of these three, though he’s got three older siblin’s what have grown up and left.”  She then pointed at the other young man, who, with his dark hair and gray eyes, was a carbon copy of Mr. McGucket.  “This is Lute.  He’s the older twin.”  Mrs. McGucket finally pointed at the last child and only girl.  The girl had long caramel-colored hair pulled back in a ponytail and, unlike her brothers, hadn’t inherited Mr. McGucket’s nose.  Though her aquiline nose was still large and distinctive, far from her mother’s button nose.  “Angie’s the younger twin.  Fiddleford is a year older ‘n the twins.”

              They’re twins?  While they looked similar enough to be related, Angie and Lute’s different eyes, hair, and noses made them look more like cousins than siblings.  Stanford, be realistic.  Not all twins will look as similar as you and Stan do.  Particularly given that they’re clearly fraternal.

              “I’m actually a twin myself,” Ford said.  “However, my brother and I are identical, unlike the two of you.”  Lute crossed his arms.

              “Gee, what gave it away we’re not identical?” he drawled in an irritated tone.  Angie elbowed him roughly.

              “Be nice,” she hissed.  Both she and Lute were much shorter than average, unlike their tall and gangly older brother.  “He just got here and yer already on his case?”

              “I just don’t see the point in hirin’ a farmhand,” Lute said firmly.  “All he’s goin’ to do is slow the work down!  I reckon we’ll get less done with him ‘round!”

              “I know I’m new to this, but I highly doubt I’ll slow things that much,” Ford said, hurt.  Mr. McGucket crossed his arms and scowled at his youngest son.

              “Stanford makes a very good point,” he said.  “I don’t see how gettin’ an extra set of hands to help will slow things down, even if that set of hands don’t have farm experience.”  He raised an eyebrow.  “Unless two of ya decided to dump yer chores onto the third.  Which yer not s’pposed to do, no matter how fast the third person can work.”  Fiddleford and Lute winced slightly, but Angie smirked.

              “Did ya have breakfast yet, Stanford?” Mrs. McGucket asked.

              “Oh.  Uh.  No.”

              “Come on in, then.  We can’t have ya doin’ chores on an empty stomach.”

              “No, I’m-”

              “We insist,” Mr. McGucket said.  He put his hands on Ford’s shoulders and steered him into the farmhouse.  His wife and children followed.  “We’ve got plenty of food.”

              “You’re already being far too generous by giving me a job as a farmhand, I don’t need-” Ford started.  But he was already standing by a chair in the kitchen.  He stifled a sigh and sat down.  Angie sat next to him.  Her bright blue eyes sparkled with curiosity.  “Um.  Hello.”

              “Ma ‘n Pa didn’t tell us yer story,” she said.  “All’s they said was that yer the new farmhand.”

              “Oh.  Well.  Um.”  Ford felt nervous under her intense stare, but it was better than the suspicion Lute was still eyeing him with.  “I’m from Glass Shard Beach, New Jersey.”

              “What brings ya out here, then?”

              “Metropolis University.  I scoured the country looking for universities that would accept me as a student and count my course credit towards my high school diploma.  Metropolis University was the cheapest option.”

              “Yer not graduated from high school yet, but yer still goin’ to college?” Fiddleford asked.

              “Yes and no.  I’ll also be taking some courses at Smallville High.  I believe it is called dual enrollment.”

              “Ooh, what year are ya?” Angie asked eagerly.

              “I’ll be a freshman.”

              “Same as Lute ‘n me!”

              “Great,” Lute muttered.  Angie shot him a glare.  Lute cleared his throat.  “So, Stanford, do ya stick yer nose in other people’s business?” he asked.

              “Lute Everett McGucket!” Mrs. McGucket scolded.

              “What?  I think it’s a valid question, since he’s on our property.”

              “I- I wouldn’t dream of snooping,” Ford said.  “I’m here to work, so that’s what I’ll do.”

              “Why are ya here to work, though?” Lute asked pointedly.

              “Someone in town suggested I ask your parents for a job, given that many of your siblings can no longer assist on the farm.  And I do need a job.  I have to pay my living expenses somehow.  The kind of scholarships I can currently receive only cover so much.”

              “Hmph.”

              “Stop with the inquisition,” Mrs. McGucket said.  She placed a plate of pancakes in front of Ford, as well as a glass of orange juice.  “Go get a head start on yer chores.  Ya need it.  You, too, Fiddleford.”

              “Fine,” Lute grumbled.  He stomped over to a door that led to the backyard, slammed it open, and left.  Fiddleford grabbed the door before it could slam shut.  He smiled kindly at Ford.

              “Don’t mind him.  He’s a bit…protective.  Give him some time to warm up to ya.  It was a pleasure to meet ya, Stanford.”

              “Likewise,” Ford said.  Fiddleford exited as well, leaving Ford with the McGucket parents and Angie.  “Do you have chores to do?” he asked her.

              “Yes.  But I don’t need a head start like my brothers.”

              She’s the youngest, as well as a girl.  Not to mention, I have yet to meet someone quite as small as her at this age.  I’d imagine her workload is lighter than her brothers’.

              “Angie’s also the one who will be helpin’ ya get started on yer chores,” Mr. McGucket said.  He ruffled his daughter’s hair.  “We’ll start ya off easy today and work ya up to the more complicated things.”  Ford nodded to indicate he understood.  “Now, get to eatin’ ‘fore that pancake gets cold, young man.”

-----

              Ford wandered into the barn.  Like usual, Angie was there, tending to her horse, Daisy.  Like all the McGucket horses, Daisy was a Tennessee Walking Horse, though the only palomino they owned.  Ford couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride that, after a year working on the McGucket farm, he now knew a considerable amount about animal husbandry and agriculture.  He’d never expected to learn anything about either field.

              I certainly never expected I’d become as physically fit as I am.  Farmwork was demanding in a way that even the boxing lessons he’d been forced to take weren’t.  Not that I ever gained significant strength or agility from those lessons.

              “Good afternoon, Angie,” he greeted.  Angie looked up.  She beamed.

              “Howdy, Stanford,” she chirped.  Ford couldn’t help but smile at her thick southern accent.  She and her siblings had picked up their parents’ accents, and as such, didn’t sound like anyone else in Smallville, the town they had grown up in.  “How are ya doin’?”

              “Better.”  Ford walked over to her and leaned against one of the horse stalls.  “Thanks to you.”

              “Oh, pish-posh.”

              “No, seriously.  If you weren’t there when the latest meteor infected person…”  Ford shuddered.  One of the most surprising and distressing aspects of Smallville was the presence of so-called “meteor freaks”.  Normal people who had somehow become affected by the meteor rocks in the area and gained superpowers.  They also typically became severely mentally unstable.  The latest person to become affected by the meteors had targeted Ford in particular.  Thankfully, Fiddleford, Lute, and Angie arrived at the last minute to save him.

              “I appreciate that ya don’t call ‘em meteor freaks like everyone else does,” Angie said.  Ford looked down at his hands.

              “I know better than to use that word against others,” he said softly.  “Even if they’re actively attempting to kill me.”

              “What do ya have against the word ‘meteor’?” Angie teased.  Ford managed a small smile.  “No, I get what yer sayin’.”

              “Speaking of the meteors,” Ford said slowly.  Angie cocked her head.  She dropped her curry comb into her grooming kit.  “Has anyone done any research into why they affect people in this way?  Meteorites elsewhere certainly don’t give people superpowers.”

              “I think Northwest Industries is doin’ research on it.”  Angie scowled.  She picked up her grooming kit and walked over to the shelving where they stored the various horse accessories.  “So fer all intents and purposes, no, no one’s doin’ research on it.”

              “Why do you say that?” Ford asked.  Angie put her grooming kit on the shelf.

              “You’ve been here fer a year, Stanford,” she said, turning to face him.  “How have ya not picked up on how horrible the Northwests are yet?  Any research they do, they’ll keep to themselves unless sharin’ it would earn ‘em more money.”

              “That’s a rather pessimistic viewpoint.”

              “It’s a realistic one.”

              “Still.”  Ford frowned thoughtfully.  “Maybe I should do some research on the meteor rocks.”

              “I think that’s a great idea, actually.”

              “Really?”

              “Sure!”

              “Would you help me?” Ford asked.  To his surprise, Angie paled.  She shook her head.  “Why not?”

              “I’m- I’m allergic.”

              “To…the meteor rocks?”

              “Yes.”  Angie winced.  Ford sighed.

              “You don’t need to lie to me.”

              “No, I really am!  Is it that surprisin’?  We were just talkin’ ‘bout how these meteor rocks are dif’rent from anywhere else on the planet,” Angie said firmly.

              “That’s a fair point…”

              “When ya do yer research, you’ll have to let me know what ya find out.  I’d like to learn more ‘bout where I came from, but it’s dif’cult with my…allergy.”

              “You have a very keen mind.  I’d love for you to look over my research,” Ford said.  His mind processed what Angie had said.  “Wait.  What do you mean by ‘where you came from’?”  In lieu of an answer, Angie began to walk away.  She paused briefly, then gestured for him to follow her.  Ford did so.  “Were you just referring to the fact you’re from Smallville?”

              “I’m no more from Smallville than you are, Stanford,” Angie said.  Ford frowned.

              “What does that mean?”

              “Just shut yer mouth.  If I tell ya, ya won’t believe me.  I have to show ya.”  Angie walked over to the storm cellar.  Ford had never seen the door unlocked.  And while Lute had warmed up to him over time, Ford never forgot how much he had insisted that Ford not snoop.  As such, Ford hadn’t attempted the small amount of lock-picking he’d learned from Stan.

              “Lute will be furious if he finds out I went in the cellar,” Ford said nervously.  Angie rolled her eyes.

              “Not if I’m the one what lets ya in.  It’s my secret to share, after all.”  She took hold of the large padlock on the cellar doors.  Before Ford’s astonished eyes, she clenched her hand into a fist, shattering the lock.  “Come on.”  Angie threw open the doors and descended into the cellar.  Ford followed her.  His jaw dropped.

              “Holy shit!” he blurted out.  Angie looked over at him in amusement.

              “I ain’t ever heard ya swear ‘fore.”

              “I’ve been on my best behavior.”

              “Clearly.”  Angie walked over to the object that had elicited such a strong reaction from Ford: a spaceship.

              A small one, yes.  Presumably for only one person to travel inside.  But a spaceship nonetheless.  I’ve consumed enough science fiction to be able to recognize one.  The spaceship was angular and made of some sort of dark metal.  There were no visible doors nor windows.  Angie placed her hand on the spaceship.  At her touch, the metal split, revealing an opening that only someone as small as Angie could fit within.  The inner walls of the spaceship lit with a pale blue glow.

              “Kara,” a voice boomed.  “Why have you shared your secret with this human?  He does not belong to your adoptive family.”  Angie crossed her arms, scowling at the ship.

              “I can trust him.”

              “My jewel, you are too trusting.”

              “And yer too suspicious,” Angie snapped.  She huffed impatiently.  “I’ll talk to ya later.”  She put her hand on the ship.  It closed again.  Angie looked at Ford.  “Sorry ‘bout that.  Artificial intelligence programs of deceased biological fathers.  Ya know how it goes.”

              “No,” Ford mumbled, surprised he could manage even a single word after what he had just seen.  “No, I- I really don’t.”  He took a deep breath.  “Angie, I believe I have correctly connected the dots, but I need you to say it out loud for me.  Please.”

              “All right.”  Angie sat down on the cellar’s dirt floor.  Ford sat as well.  “I’m not human.  I’m not even from Earth.  I was born on a planet in a completely dif’rent galaxy and sent here as a baby.  Ma ‘n Pa found me the day of the meteor shower.  Since that was the day they brought Lute home from the hospital, they decided to fudge the paperwork and claim I was Lute’s twin.”  Angie traced a finger through the dirt.  “They kept the truth from everyone.  Even me.  Until I- well.”  Angie grabbed a screwdriver out of a nearby toolbox.  “Don’t freak out.”

              “I think I’ve reached my freaking out maximum,” Ford said dryly.  Angie stabbed the screwdriver into her arm.  Instead of puncturing her skin, however, it bent.  Ford’s mind filled with static.  “I was wrong.  Apparently, I can freak out more.”

              “I got hit by a car and walked away without a scratch.  After that, I demanded answers from Ma ‘n Pa.  They spilled everything to me ‘n my siblin’s.”

              “You’re invulnerable?”

              “I didn’t used to be.  Well, I’ve always had pretty tough skin.  It’s just the complete inability to even bruise that’s a new development.”  Angie tossed aside the ruined screwdriver.  “I’ve got other gifts, too, which I’ve had m’ whole life.  My folks, though, they always just said I was one of them meteor folks, or that it was just adrenaline or whatever.”

              “You arrived the day of the meteor shower?” Ford asked.  Angie nodded.  “Do you know why?”

              “I…”  Angie closed her eyes.  “I don’t know fer sure.  But I…”  She pulled her legs close to her chest.  “I wonder if it may have somethin’ to do with the fact I was a lil baby flung into space all on my own.”

              “Angie, please don’t beat around the bush.  After everything you’ve told me, my brain is operating at half capacity.”

              “You at half capacity is still better than a lot of folks at one hundred,” Angie joked.  Ford sighed softly.  Angie looked down.  “I don’t want to say.  Sorry.”

              “I understand.  You’ve told me a lot today.”

              “Yessir.  I certainly have.”  Angie smiled weakly at Ford.  “Yer actually takin’ this better ‘n I did.”

              “Well, this does affect you far more than it affects me.  I’m not an alien.”

              “No.  Yer not.”  Angie’s eyes met Ford’s.  Her blue gaze had always been intimidating.  After these revelations, Ford couldn’t help but wonder if it was because she wasn’t human.  “But you feel like one.”  Ford’s heart plummeted to his feet.

              “That’s why you felt comfortable telling me,” he whispered.  “Because I’m an outsider as well.”

              “Obviously not as much of one as I am, but…”  Angie shrugged.  “Yer more visibly an outsider ‘n I am.”

              “Yes.  Of the two of us, I suspect most would believe I am the alien, not you.”

              “Exactly.”  Angie picked up the screwdriver she had tossed aside.  She idly bent it back to its original shape.  Ford’s jaw dropped.  “I told ya.  I’ve got other gifts than what I showed ya.”

              “What are they?” Ford asked eagerly.  He winced.  “If- if I’m allowed to ask that.”  Angie stood up.

              “I’ll tell ya, don’t worry.  I’ll even show ya.”  She grinned.  “After we finish our chores.”

[introvert-no-chameleon]

Meeting the Man-Ape

So @sleepsentry made this amazing AU and my childhood Tarzan phase came back like a vengeful ghost and teamed up with my current GF obsession to deliver this ficlet and an entire outline. 

Anyway, here’s how I imagine Fidds’ and Tarzan!Stan first meeting. 

*

Fiddleford should have said no when his old college friend had invited him to a scientific expedition to study anomalies in other countries. Maybe if he hadn't been so disillusioned with his lap computers, or if he hadn't gone through a divorce, he would've had enough sense to stay at home.

Instead, here he was, in some god-forsaken jungle in the middle of nowhere on a tree of all things, hugging the massive moss-covered trunk for dear life.

The humidity was suffocating, making him sweat to the point where his button up stuck stubbornly to his skin. He felt wet in uncomfortable places, itchy in others, and overall decided he did not, in fact, want to be here. To make matters worse, he was sure he would stumble onto camp smelling like wet socks. The ominous chirping and roaring in the jungle around him did nothing to alleviate his stress  nor did the occasional shufflingnhe'd heard among the trees.

He'd gotten chased up a tree, lost his shoe and lost track of Stanferd and their incredibly untrustworthy guide, (a poacher of all things) and he was pretty sure he was about to fall to his untimely demise.

Wonderful. They'll probably never find his body in this unholy mess. His tombstone will read “Fiddleford Hadron McGucket, the Biggest Damn Fool to Ever Live”.

He huffed, holding onto the tree he was in the process of climbing. The tips of his toes were on the one he'd stood on. He stretched, pulled his weight up...and found himself stuck between both of them with no way to move.

Fuck.

"Well," he muttered. "It ain't like this can get any worse."

As if the Lord Himself had heard Fiddleford, a clap of thunder shook the sky, followed by a heavy torrent of rain.

"You know what? I shoulda known better."

He slumped, hanging his head between his shoulder blades. Against his better judgement he decided to see just how high up he was to assess just how bad he messed up.

One can imagine his surprise, then, when another human face floated inches away from his own.

Fiddleford yelled, pushing himself away from the stranger. He immediately regretted the knee-jerk reaction when he felt his body swerve downwards. Apparently, he was high up enough that the trunks of the trees felt dizzyingly tall. He flailed his arms in an attempt to regain balance.

A single finger poked his nose, then gently pushed him back. The gesture sent Fiddleford toppling backwards, until his butt landed on a steady surface.

Oh thank goodness. He exhaled in relief, allowing himself a few moments to regain his composure.

The soft thud in front of him jolted him back to his current situation. Or rather, the person whom he was with.

A masculine figure with thick, long locks of brown hair and hunched on fours much like an ape, observed Fiddleford with curious, child-like wonder. The only thing this person wore to preserve their modesty was a loincloth. The rest of their body had impressive muscles, their fingers and toes wide-spread to better their grip on the trunk they were on. Which meant they not only climbed their way up, they must've done so quickly, because Fiddleford certainly would've noticed a person like this around him.

Right. The fabled man-ape. Of course Stanferd would've actually been right about this one thing, and of course Fiddleford had been the one to find them.

No matter. His momma had taught him manners, and he wasn't about to throw those away just because he was in unfamiliar territory. "Er, howdy," said Fiddleford, cautiously. "It's a pleasure to meet ya, the name's Fiddleford Hadron McGucket." He extended his hand to the stranger.

The ape-man cocked their head to the side. Fiddleford couldn't help but notice how eerily similar this person was to Stanferd. Aside from the fact that they haven't shaved, they still had the same broad nose, the bushy eyebrows, the brown eyes alight with excitement.

Please, this ain't some movie. Stanferd havin' some secret twin? That would be ridiculous. But back to the situation at hand--he probably don't understand a thing I'm sayin'. This'll be tricky…

The man-ape cleared their throat. They pointed at themself, and with a shocklingly deep voice, said: "Er...howdy. The name's Fiddleford Hadron McGucket."

Now that was interesting. "Fascinating...ya even copied the inflection of mah voice."

The man-ape copied Fiddleford's sentence again, looking pleased with themselves.

"That still spells the question of whether or not ya understand--now hold on just one second!"

The ape-man had crawled over and admired Fiddleford's shoe-less foot, a process which entailed pulling Fiddleford closer for inspection. They were mighty strong, too, judging by how easily he moved Fiddleford.

The scientist slapped the ape-man's hand away. "See here, there is no need for that kind of tomfoolery!"

The ape-man grunted. The message didn't come across, because he went back to touching him, albeit more carefully.

"No, no, that ain't what I meant!" A giggle escaped Fiddleford as he touched each of his toes, soon replaced by full-on-laughter.

This startled his companion, who drew back for a moment, giving Fiddleford enough time to catch his breath. They stared, watching Fiddleford intently.

They suddenly widened their eyes. Approaching Fidds once more, he placed a hand on his own chest. Then he slowly moved his own to Fiddleford's, waiting.

Now intrigued again, Fiddleford placed the hand over his chest. Once a few moments passed, they brought Fiddleford's entire head to his own chest and good lord they were hairy.

They also smelled like a sweaty mess. Fiddleford was quick to push them away. "Yes, that's a...mighty fine heartbeat ya have. Very healthy."

If this is what the anomalies felt when they studied them, he couldn't blame some of them for wanting to rip he and Ford a new one. He himself felt more than a little irritated at the bold-faced intrusiveness.

They extended their hand, but this time stopped in mid air, and held their palm towards Fiddleford.

With some hesitation, Fiddleford went up and held his own palm up. They placed it right against his. When their fingers interlaced Fiddleford's, he felt his face flush.

He drew his hand back towards himself, coughing. "Well, I-I think that's enough of that."

"Tar...stan."

Fiddleford blinked up at his new companion. "Say what now?"

They pointed at themselves. "Tarstan." They pointed at Fiddleford. "Er...howdy. The name's Fiddleford Hadron McGucket."

Fiddleford chuckled. "That's too much of a mouthful, I reckon."

"That's too much of a-"

Fiddleford shook his head. "No, it's. Now, wait, look at me," he said gesturing at their eyes and then himself. "Fiddleford."

"Fiddleford," they said, pointing at the scientist. They gestured at themself. "Tarstan."

Fiddleford nodded, his mouth split into a grin. "That's right! Now we're gettin' somewhere."

The sound of a gunshot had him jolt upwards, cursing up a storm. He was thankful Tarstan was too occupied glancing at the source of the sound to repeat any of it.

"That must be Bill." His lips curled into a disgusted frown. "Damn fool, shooting all over the place, he'll hurt somebody…"

Tarstan imitated the gunshot, an amused smile playing on their lips.

An idea formed in Fiddleford's head. "Do ya think ya can get me over there? To where that noise is?"

They grinned, which he took as a good sign as any. Tarstan looping his arm around his waist was considerably less reassuring.

"Er, what're we doing--sweet sarsaparilla!"

Tarstan leaped onto a vine,  keeping his grip on Fiddleford as he did so. He managed to not only keep his grip, but also swing them from vine to vine in the direction of Bill's shooting.

He couldn't describe it then, but later on he'd reflect on the ominous twist in the pit of his stomach as they approached the camp. If Fiddleford had known just what would've happened in the next few months, he probably would've never brought them anywhere near Bill.

*

Extra Ideas that I Have:

-Ford secretly has been hoping to find his lost twin, who “died” in the same area as the fabled “man-ape” because he was separeted from his brother at a young age when [insert whatever idea one may have to explain how Stan could end up in a jungle being raise by apes, because I don’t have one]. He is estatic that not only is his brother alive, he’s an anomaly just like him! 

-I imagine Bill’s motives being very similar to the Tarzan villain (whatever his name is) . Fidds in this AU is more suspicious, but is still unable to stop him alone.

-Fiddleford ends up falling for Tarzan!Stan and vice versa much like Jane does in the OG film.

-Stanford also is intent on having his brother return to civilization, but Tarzan!Stan is unsure about leaving.

-I imagine them having an ending similar to the film. 

[pikablob]

Headcanons for Erik, Victoria and the Bellkeeper?

Send me a character and i’ll give an example of each:

Headcanon A: what I think realistically Headcanon B: what I think is fucking hilarious Headcanon C: what is heart-crushing and awful but fun to inflict on friends Headcanon D: what would never work with canon but the canon is shit so I believe it anyway

Erik:

A: Erik absolutely got his position as a result of nepotism. The Safety Patrol has been lead by an Ahlberg many times since it was founded (their patrol uniforms are even based off Edmund’s outfit), and Erik’s father was the previous Chief Ranger. Erik’s spent his whole life believing this is what he was born for, and he remains convinced he’s a born troll-slayer despite the reality of the situation.

B: Erik straight-up doesn’t know he was turned into a bug. As part of the spell, he didn’t even realise he had been changed, and his story of saving children from a raging troll is what he actually believes. Gerda doesn’t have the heart to completely shatter his delusion, even if she shuts down his attempts to milk it.

C: There is a small part of Erik that’s insecure; under all that bravado, there’s a small voice in his head that says he’ll never be as good as Edmund or the rest of his family. That’s why he’s put so much misguided effort into modernising the Patrol (with new cars, the autobell system, etc), even though he’s so confident in his own abilities.

D: Erik is weirdly good at singing; he likes to invent ballads about his own great deeds, and tries to get Gerda and the patrol officers to sing along with him. He tends to break into song on a whim while working, much to everyone else’s annoyance.

Victoria:

A: Victoria is genuinely fond of Hilda; she sees Hilda as a kindred spirit, even if Hilda doesn’t agree, and part of her genuinely thought she would approve of the Nowhere Space plan. The thought of upsetting Hilda in particular does make her feel bad, but she tries to do her best to ignore that.

B: Victoria used to get in arguments with the weather spirits over Trolberg, using her weather control equipment to join in their arguments. One of the reasons why she has so much control over the city before The Storm is because most of the local spirits knew and avoided “the city with that crazy woman who’ll fight you.”

C: Victoria, as much as she hates to admit it, is very lonely and desperate for validation. She’s convinced herself she likes solitude, but the truth is she misses the friends she parted ways with (or lost) years ago, and that’s one of the reasons why she’s so fond of her Nisse. By the end of The Windmill, she refuses to return because she feels like she has nothing left to lose; that’s why she stays in the portal, sure that whatever’s on the other side must be better than the awful solitude.

D: Mind if I go full Forests of Oregon here? I absolutely love the idea that she was old friends with Stanford Pines and McGucket as a young adult, and that their disappearances were one of the things that hit her hardest and drove her into solitude.

The Bellkeeper:

A: The Bellkeeper doesn’t think much of Ahlberg as head of the Safety Patrol. As someone who sees trolls and other creatures a lot, he knows that they can be dangerous, but only if you’re not careful around them. He thinks the Patrol could do well to remember some of the old ways, like how the bells used to be manned, but that they should also learn to coexist with creatures rather than confronting them. He is, however, fairly close friends with Gerda and appreciates what she’s trying to do.

B: The Bellkeeper has a Jorts addiction. He loves cucumber sandwiches and proper meals, but he will absolutely inhale an entire multibag of Jorts if given half a chance. He has bags of them all over his cabin in drawers and cupboards, cause he likes to snack while he’s working.

C: The Bellkeeper always wanted to have children, but he was never able to; it’s a big regret of his. Part of him sees Hilda as a substitute, and he can’t help caring for her, but he tries to ignore that feeling.

D: His name is Argus Mitchell - no idea why, I just think it fits.

[mozart-the-meerkitten]

Alright, you know what? I’m too tired to do anything else so *cracks knuckles* gonna liveblog/reaction post Gravity Falls ssn 2 episode 7, “The Society of the Blind Eye”. I bet you can’t possibly guess why it’s one of my favorites. xD

Honestly if the Blind Eye had just left people alone nobody in Gravity Falls would be phased by anything weird anymore at this point.

Fiddleford’s so excited to have visitors aghafhhsdjhgsj

Sir what is your house even

“Genius? I’m no genius. I’ve never done nothin’ worthwhile in my life. Everyone knows I’m no good to nobody.” Can I give him a hug?

”I can’t remember what I used to be, but I must’ve been a big failure to end up like this.” Can I PLEASE give him a hug?

I love that the whole gang is immediately ride or die for this mission and trying to help

I love that they put subtitles in for Fiddleford’s hamboning xDD

The first time I watched this I was like, “Is this a cult? .... Oh yeah, this is a cult.”

Seriously though, I know that this is tied to Dipper’s quest to find the author, but he really got into trying to help Fiddleford and I appreciate that. He’s a good kid.

“Oh you’ve really tarred it up now, Fiddleford, this is all your fault.” okay actually, yes it is, but to be fair I’m pretty sure when you made this society it was not a cult. Or this unethical. (I can’t see Fiddleford kidnapping people honestly)

“And why does my beard have a bandage? Does that even make sense? Why has no one pointed that out?” ahgkjhdgfjshdgfksd

WELL OBVIOUSLY Y’ALL DON’T REMEMBER WHO THE FOUNDER WAS

“Okay I’m not actually laid back, I’m like stressed 24/7!” SAME WENDY

“I raided the mining display for weapons! Now fight like a hillbilly fellers!” ajgkhsdgfjsd Fiddleford you’re the best xD

Fidds just dropped out of the ceiling to save Dipper YES GOOD

“Oh my gosh are you okay?!” “Okay as I’ll ever be!” *cackles*

“Hit me with your best shot baldie, but my mind’s been gone for 30 odd years! Y’can’t break what’s already broken!”

Fiddleford just straight up headbutts Ivan to knock him out xDD

It’s ironic and fitting that Fiddleford started all this and got to be the one to finish it.

The kids genuinely trying to help Fiddleford just makes me happy okay?

ahdhadhfgsj HI YOUNG FIDDLEFORD

“We will help those who WANT to forget.” (emphasis added) yeah, see, no mention of kidnapping here

Hey for reference and also feels Fiddleford’s transformation into Old Man McGucket took about two years (I’m rounding up because the last recording doesn’t have a day count) also he was like, in his 30′s

“After all these years I finally know who I am. Maybe I messed up in the past, but now that I’ve seen what happened I can begin to put myself together again.” awwww

Can we talk about how at the beginning of the episode Fiddleford rides in the bed of the truck but at the end he jumps into the backseat with the kids and how that reflects the fact that he’s starting to remember and see himself as a person again because ajlgkdhfkjsdgsh

And more irony with the portal being almost ready “When you can see the future there is irony everywhere.”

[orangeoctopi7]

Gloves VS Mittens

@forduary Week one is Creation/Destruction. This fic is definitely on the Creation side of things.

For most people, it’s just a matter of preference. But for Stanford, just having a choice at all was something he rarely had...

***

When Ford was four years old, he first started taking notice of the fact that his hands were not normal. It started with a Hanukkah gift from a distant aunt: a pair of gloves for Stan, and a pair of mittens for himself. The two of them were so used to getting the exact same of everything that it immediately struck them as odd.

"Hey Dad, how come mine are different?" Ford asked.

"Because they don't make six-fingered gloves." Filbrick grunted.

"Why not?"

"Because normal people don't have six fingers. Haven't you noticed?"

Caryn smacked her husband with her magazine. "Dear!"

"What? If he hasn't already figured it out--"

"He's four, Filbrick."

"He's gonna have to know sooner or later! Coddling him ain't doin' him any favors. The world's not kind to what's different, so we may as well prepare him now!"

"I'm not… normal?" Ford asked his parents. He wasn't quite sure what to do with this information.

"Nope." Filbrick replied bluntly.

"Oh who wants to be normal, anyway? Normal's boring. You're special." Caryn took her son into her arms and kissed his forehead. “Now go outside and play with your brother."

While Stanford took his mother's words to heart, he soon found that being special had little to no practical benefits. Sure, it was nice to have something of his own for once, but Ford soon realized that while Stanley could use his mittens if he wanted, Ford couldn't use his brother's gloves. Not that Stan would ever want to use the mittens. They limited his dexterity to the point where it was hard to make a snowball, or even do something as simple as point.

"It's not fair!" He complained to Stan as he struggled to draw a face on the snowman they were working on. "It's like trying to do everything with a sock puppet on each hand!"

"It can't be all bad." Stan reasoned. "Plenty of people wear mittens, right?" 

"I guess so…" Ford remembered quite a few Christmas decorations with people wearing mittens, and he'd seen a few wearing them out and about the city.

Stan grabbed one hand and held it up, looking at it more closely. "I bet all your fingers are warmer, bundled together like that!"

"But it's hard to zip up my coat, so I get cold anyway." Ford mumbled.

"I'll help you zip it up!" Stan promised.

***

As the years passed, Stanford found another advantage to wearing mittens: nobody could tell he was a freak if they couldn't see his extra fingers. Sure, it didn't fool the people who already knew him, but it was nice to be able to pretend he was normal when they went up to New York City to go shopping. 

As for the dexterity problem, most of the time he'd just have to ask Stanley to do whatever it was for him. If he got tired of that, or if it simply wasn't an option (like during a snowball fight between the two brothers) he'd just take his mittens off. Sure, it was icy cold, and Ma always scolded him if she caught him, but that was a small price to pay for a good snowball.

Ford found he didn't mind wearing mittens all the time, until he started highschool chemistry class.

***

Ford was so excited to start his first real chemistry lab. He'd been doing his own chemical experiments with a chemistry set he got for his birthday when he turned 12, but the school chemistry lab had so much more to offer him! Actual Bunsen burners, more than one beaker and three test tubes, and best of all-- a variety of chemicals much wider than what he could find in his family home!

"Now, before we start, I'm going to go around and make sure everyone has all their safety equipment on properly. Make sure you've got your goggles on over your eyes not your forehead, and your gloves on your hands not in your pocket." Their teacher, an easily distracted middle-aged man, made his way around the room, checking each group. "Oh, right…" he paused when he came to the Pines twins. Stan had on his gloves and goggles (onto which he had drawn googly eyes with a wet-erase marker). Ford had on his goggles, but…

"I don't need gloves." Ford insisted. "I've never used them with my chemistry set at home."

"Yeah!" Stan agreed, "We took apart a car battery one time and didn't get any chemical burns!"

The teacher blanched at this revelation, and he opened up a supply closet at the back of the room. After some digging, he pulled out a pair of sturdy work gloves that looked like they were meant for a giant.

"Here," he tossed them to Ford, "These should be big enough. You'll just have to fit two fingers into one hole."

Ford grumbled as he pulled the gloves on. After some experimentation he found that sticking his second and third fingers together was the least uncomfortable arrangement, but the glove was still too bulky and awkward. He kept on pouring too much acid into the solution and completely missing the titration point. 

Relying on Stan to do it didn't yield much better results, as his brother was too impatient, and kept on pouring the acid too fast, once again missing the titration point. Finally, when the teacher was distracted by other students, Ford just took the gloves off. Then he got it first try.

This ended up being the pattern for Ford's chemistry labs throughout the rest of his highschool years. Fumble through the lab until the teacher's back was turned, and then strip the oversized gloves off. He was extra careful, and never got anything on him that could do any real harm. One time he did get a bit of copper nitrate on his skin, but all that it did was make his hands dry and itchy.

***

When Ford started college at Backupsmore University, he quickly realized he wouldn't be able to just pull an awkwardly large glove off when the teacher wasn't looking. The class size was much too small. What's more the TA overseeing their lab, a young man by the name of McGucket, was clearly a sharp and observant individual.

"Hmm, obviously this ain't gonna work." He observed as he passed out supplies to Ford's table. "I think y'should be fine fer now, we're only working with acetic acid today, but that ain't gonna be the case fer the whole semester. You got a free hour after lab?"

"Y-yes." 

"Great! Meet me in the Grad-lab, we'll make ya a special custom pair!"

"What--really!?"

"Sure! We don't want you messin' around in the chem lab with no gloves on, but messin' around with gloves that don't fit right is even worse!"

Ford finished his first lab with no trouble. In fact, he finished early, so he cleaned up his things and headed to the Grad-lab, just down the hall from his own classroom, and waited. All the graduate students there ignored him, too caught up in their own studies to even notice a lowly undergrad.

After several minutes, McGucket entered. "Alright, this is gonna take a while, you sure you got time?"

"This is my last class of the day."

"Perfect. Now come over here and we'll get started." The grad student led Ford back to a table with many five-gallon buckets. He pried the lid off of one, revealing its dark blue, slimy contents. "This here's the silicone-rubber I use t'make molds fer my machine parts. If'n ya jus' stick yer hand in here and let it gel, it should make a nice glove, like a second skin!"

"You want me to stick my hand… in that?" Ford asked incredulously.

"Pshaw, it ain't that bad!" McGucket assured him. "It's like… well, y'ever stuck her hand in pig slop?"

"No." Ford said slowly, his eye twitching just a bit at the thought.

"Oh, well nevermind then. I guess you can jus' drop outta chemistry 112"

Ford sighed and plunged his hands down into the bucket. It was pretty gross, but he got used to the slimy sensation after a few minutes. He slowly pulled his hands out, letting the viscous fluid slide off his fingers. 

"How long does this take to dry?"

"Gel." McGucket corrected. "First layer'll probably take 'bout half an hour. It goes faster if'n ya use a settin' spray, bit that tends t'irritate the skin."

"First layer? How many layers will it take?"

"Only two. Ya want it thick 'nuff it'll protect yer skin, but thin 'nuff that it's flexible an’ peels off easy."

"So I'm just supposed to stand here for a whole hour? What am I supposed to do for all this time? I-I've got homework!"

"Well, I'll pull ya up a chair." McGucket rolled over a chair for him and opened his backpack. "An' maybe I can help ya with yer homework."

They sat there for an hour, McGucket reading Ford's textbooks and Ford asking questions about the material. The grad student was impressed with the workload this freshman had taken on.

"I wanted to go to West Coast Tech, but that didn't work out." Ford explained bitterly. "So I'm going to have to work twice as hard to be taken seriously by the scientific community."

"Believe me, I know the feelin'." McGucket nodded. "Most folks don't take a roboticist from the Tennessee hills seriously either. But there's some perks to attendin' a smaller University. The dean lets us do whatever we want! I've built lots o' robots I never woulda gotten away with at MIT."

"I suppose that's true." Ford admitted. "I'm interested in anomalies and cryptozoology. At West Coast Tech, I probably wouldn't be able to study those."

The hour passed more quickly than Ford expected. When he pulled the gloves off, they turned inside out, showing all the wrinkles and ridges of his skin in relief. He liked it. It was much more personal than some disposable pair.

“I’m sorry for complaining so much at the start. What you’ve done for me is incredibly generous. Thank you.” Ford said sincerely.

“Think nothin’ of it!” McGucket assured him with a friendly smile. “Can’t ‘spect you to go through the whole class without proper gloves.”

“No, really, you don’t know how much this means to me.”

“Well, I s’pose not. But I imagine ya don’t get somethin’ as simple as a pair o’ gloves offen.”

“N-no.” Ford instinctively hid his hand behind his back.

“Well now, ain’t nothin’ to hide!” McGucket elbowed him. “You could have two heads, fer all I care, with how well you un’erstand superconductors!” He waved goodbye as they exited the lab. “See ya in class on Wednesday!”

Ford found he gained more than just a new pair of gloves that day.

***

The custom gloves were nice, but they didn’t last more than a couple of months before they needed to be replaced again. He spent a lot of time in the Grad-lab talking to Fiddleford over the next few years. By the time graduation rolled around, Ford had learned to make the silicone-rubber compound himself. It was something he continued to use as he moved out to Gravity Falls. Being able to make his own gloves was so convenient! After all these years of being stuck with ill-fitting gloves, or no gloves at all, he’d never really realized how useful they were. And now he could have them whenever he wanted! As time went by, he improved upon the original silicone-rubber formula, making the gloves more durable and long-lasting. 

As he got used to wearing gloves while he worked, the fact that he didn’t have winter gloves became more and more annoying. It was easy to ignore at Backusmore, where it rarely snowed and stayed warm for most of the year. But Oregon was farther north, and Gravity Falls was in the middle of the temperate rainforest. It snowed all winter long. It was so frustrating when he encountered an anomaly out in the snow and couldn’t hold his pen properly to take notes in his journal, either because of his mittens, or because his hands were too cold and numb from not wearing his mittens.

Oh well. As irritating as it was, he was used to it by now.

***

Out in the multiverse, just finding something to keep himself warm at all could be a struggle. Many of the dimensions he visited didn’t have human inhabitants, so finding something to wear on his hands at all was an impossible ask. Ford learned to wrap strips of cloth around his hands and fingers to keep them warm. It worked pretty well, although it took a lot longer to wrap the cloth in such a way that he could still move his fingers individually than it would to simply slip on a glove.

Of course, sometimes he got lucky. When he became ruler of the Finger Dimension, for instance, the people had made him a pair of silk, fur-lined gloves. They were very nice, but obviously more for fashion rather than function. He ended up trading them away for some tools shortly after he was banished by the Finger Dimension’s new ruler. 

But Stanford had bigger things to worry about than the comfort of his hands in his interdimensional travels. 

***

Stanley found the gloves while he was digging around the portal’s control console, looking for any clues as to how to get the thing working again. It was like a punch to the gut, but really, finding anything of Ford’s was like a punch to the gut. Stan still remembered that first Hanukkah when he’d gotten a pair of gloves, and Ford got a pair of mittens. He still remembered all the awkward times in their chemistry class where he’d had to do all the fine measurements even though he was terrible at it, until the teacher looked away long enough for Ford to take the oversized gloves off. He was glad his brother had finally found a way to get his own pair of work gloves.

His mind wandered, unbidden, to the fact that his brother was now lost… somewhere… without them. Without a lot of things he needed. Stan pulled on the gloves and made a fist, watching the extra pinky sleeve flop uselessly. He grimaced. Right. Back to work.

***

When Ford turned sixty-four, he was used to wearing mittens. He’d long ago accepted that the winter months came with a loss of dexterity, and honestly, over the past nine months of sailing through arctic waters, he’d been fine. He knew Stan had his back when he couldn’t properly wrap a finger around his blaster’s trigger. And when he knew he was going to need his blaster, he just didn’t wear them. He hadn’t gotten frostbite yet. In the middle of June, it wasn’t even worth worrying about. He wouldn’t even be thinking about it right now if it wasn’t for the birthday gift his niece had just given him.

“I noticed you weren’t wearing your mittens in a lot of the photos you sent us.” Mabel explained. “And I figured you probably have to use all your fingers for boat stuff, like tying knots, or signaling merpeople! So I made you these!” She handed him a pair of hand-knitted gloves, made up of a mix of red, blue, and  green yarn.

“I wanted to send you some while you were still sailing, but I’d never knitted gloves before, so it took me a while to figure it out.”

“She went through a lot of yarn the last few months.” Dipper agreed. “Like, even more than usual.”

Ford slipped them on. They were a perfect fit.

“How…?”

Stan suddenly started whistling for no reason. Ford shot him a knowing look.

“What? Don’t look at me like that! So maybe I kept an old pair of your gloves while I was workin’ on the portal. Not for, like, sentimental reasons or anything. Good work gloves aren’t cheap! And it’s a good thing I did keep ‘em, they were the perfect model for Mabel. I just had to tell Soos where I left ‘em and asked him to send ‘em to her.”

“I-I don’t know what to say.” Ford’s voice wavered with emotion. "This is-- the fact that you put in all that time and effort, just for me-- and such a thoughtful gift! I-I've never really had a pair of winter gloves before… well, except for that pair from the Finger Dimension, and those were more ceremonial than anything else."

"So you like them?" Mabel asked, eyes bright.

"I absolutely love them. They're perfect!" He hugged her. "Thank you!" He turned to Stan. "Thank both of you!"

"Eh, I didn't do anything." Stan rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed.

"You provided the model. I have you to thank for the fact that they fit so well."

"I have an idea, if you want to test them out now." Dipper suggested. "Remember that snow spell we tested out last week?"

"Oh, right! Great idea, my boy!"

"Yeah, just test it outside this time, so Soos doesn't have to mop up after you again." Stan advised.