#ford you dork

[ahkylous]

My addiction to this au is taking its toll.

Also I’m fairly certain that this would have happened more than once.

#my art #fanart #art #au #gravity falls mabel #gravity falls #gravity falls ford #mabel pines #ford pines #portal mabel #portal ford #portal au #drifting stars au #ford and mabel bonding #pines family #mabel is tired #ford you dork #give her a break

[mossswald]

Screenshot redraw! Had to redraw the moment he won us all over

Original screenshot under the cut :]

#my art #click for better quality #i forgot his pen but shhhhhh you dont see that #at this point in the series i knew from the journal pages the author was a dork but this frame was the end of me. New instant fav lol #digital art #gravity falls #ford pines #grunkle ford #hunkle ford #screenshot redraw #gravity falls fanart #image description in alt #gf fanart #digital drawing

[call-me-cosmic]

In the works!

#art #artists on tumblr #drawing #digital art #procreate #gravity falls #ford pines #young ford pines #shmebulock #disney #alex hirsch #grunkle ford #Princess Unattainabelle beckons you #BUT WAIT #ITS A TRAP #stanford pines #nerd #he’s a dork #i love him tho #work in progress #my style #art style #boost #science #art blog #I’ve been drawing for like #11 hours #i need sleep #and water #call-me-cosmic

[d-criss-news]

darrencriss: a freestyle

#darren criss #darren criss @ the ford #darren criss @ frontón méxico #sag aftra strike #instagram #video #july 2023 #yes darren you suck at promoting your stuff #hahaha #dork

[datshitrandom]

darrencriss: I haven’t headlined a show in Los Angeles since 2018?? Man. That’s a lot of time to make up for. So how’s about some old favorites and, I dunno, NEW tunes I’ve never played before? July 23rd at The Ford? Outdoor summertime vibes? Whadayasay? Who’s gonna catch it first?

#darren criss #darren criss @ the ford #@ the ford announcement #unnecessarily big #sunglasses😎 #just got excited thats all #such a dork #also #that single curl on his forehead #🫠 #you have no idea how much I hate #that this will be on my birthday #please do not repost

[jinjeriffic]

DCxDP Prophecy Universe Part 4

Part 3

Aaaah, Tim had missed undercover work! There was just something thrilling about becoming a whole new person by making a few small tweaks here and there. He had combed his hair in a side-part, carefully applied make-up to make his skin look paler and his eyes bigger and put on a pair of thick rimmed glasses. Worn sneakers, baggy jeans, a loose plaid flannel shirt with a hoodie tied around his waist hid his lean, muscular frame. A slight slouch and his old high-school backpack completed the look. Goodbye Tim Drake-Wayne, Gotham socialite. Hello Adam Taylor, college freshman.

Jason took one look at him and practically fell over laughing.

“Oh my God, you look like a total dork! Would you like some braces to go with that?” he heckled, catching himself against the side of the car.

“I’ll have you know that this is the height of broke college student chic,” Tim sniffed in mock offence, “It’s called ‘blending in’ Jason. Maybe you should try it!” He walked past his snickering brother to get in the passenger’s seat of the beat-up Ford they used for travelling incognito.

“No thanks, I’ll leave the theatre performance to you,” Jason drawled, tossing the keys in one hand before getting behind the wheel. “I’ll just hang back and keep an eye out in case things go tits up.”

“I don’t even know why you insisted on coming along. I’m just going to question a civilian!”

Jason gave him a Look before starting the engine. “A civilian raised by mad scientists. The way our lives work, we’ll find her building Kryptonite powered robots in the janitor’s closet or something.”

“And the fact that she’s a cute red-head has nothing to do with it?” Tim teased.

“Nope!”

“Liar.”

The drive to Metropolis passed in a mix of mutual ribbing, arguing over radio stations and discussion of recent cases. They carefully avoided the elephant in the room - the reason for their current investigation. The sullen anger of their youngest brother, the quiet grief in Bruce’s eyes whenever he thought no one was watching and the mounting tension within the family. Tim doubted that this excursion would be all that fruitful, but he needed to get out and do something for the sake of his own sanity. The last thing he wanted was to watch Bruce emotionally implode over what may or may not be another dead son.

Getting onto the university campus was no problem. Tim had a fake student ID on him just in case, but it looked like he needn’t have bothered. His hacking had revealed that Jasmine Fenton checked into the university library after her last class almost every day, so it was just a matter of biding his time. He sat at one of the carrel desks, idly flipping through the latest issue of Forbes. I wonder if Luthor’s new tech acquisition means he’s up to something? Hm…

“Heads up, target at your 10,” came Jason’s murmur through Tim’s earpiece. Tim turned another page then sat up and stretched, glancing around casually. He instantly recognized the red-head from his earlier research. Tall and light build, long hair held back by a head-band, wearing skinny jeans and a dark grey sweater. She made her way over to the row of desks, carrying a small stack of books and a pencil case. She walked past Tim, only sparing him a glance and eventually settled down at the table farthest from the entrance and away from the other students. Perfect.

Tim got up and returned his magazine to the periodicals section before meandering over to Jasmine’s desk. He put on his best impression of a nervous smile. Showtime.

“Hey, is this seat taken?”

She only glanced up from her work briefly then went right back to taking notes. “No, knock yourself out,” she said in a bored tone.

Tim pulled out the chair next to hers and turned it slightly to face her. He sat down and cleared his throat.

“Hi, sorry to bother you. I’m Adam. Adam Taylor,” he lied, offering his hand to her. She gave him a tight, polite smile and shook hands with him.

“Jazz Fenton,” Her tone was light, but her body language screamed ‘please go away’. Tim filed the nickname away for later, “Look, it’s really nice to meet you but I have this project I need to work on, so…”

Ah, she probably thinks I’m trying to hit on her, Tim thought.

“Oh, I understand completely! I don’t wanna take up too much of your time, I just… I was just wondering if you could tell me about… you know,” he whispered with affected hesitation, “...ghosts.”

The smile dropped from her face and her gaze sharpened. “Excuse me?”

“Sorry! It’s just… your parents run Fenton Works, right? The ecto-biologists?” Tim rushed out, “I just wanted to hear your opinion on their work…” he trailed off at the look of tightly controlled anger on her face. She turned and scanned the room around them.

“Alright. Where’s the camera?”

Tim was caught completely wrong footed. Was she onto them?

“Camera? What camera?” he hedged. She slammed her notebook shut and glared at him.

“I get it. Lets pretend to interview the girl with the crazy ghost hunter parents and have a good laugh at her on social media later. Very funny, har har,” Jazz stuffed her pen back in its case with sharp movements, “Well I have better things to do than make you TikTok famous, so if you’ll excuse me,” she gathered up her books and stood.

Tim winced. He really needed to salvage this situation and quickly. He held up his hands in a placating gesture.

“I’m not filming you, honest! I just read some of your parents’ papers and wanted a second opinion on their research! They, ah… they seem pretty biased,” he said apologetically.

Jazz narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously. “Why are you researching ghosts, then?”

The best lies are built on truth.

“Because…” Tim took a deep breath, “I think my brother might be one,” he forced out, then swallowed hard and looked away.

“Oh,” the anger had drained from her voice, “I’m sorry for your loss.”

Tim glanced at her as she sat back down. “Thanks,” he croaked and blinked away fake tears. They sat in silence for a few minutes.

“Adam, what makes you think your brother might have come back as a ghost?” Jazz asked gently.

Tim collected himself for a moment, thinking about how to score the most sympathy points.

“It’s hard to explain. My younger brother… he saw something strange and now my whole family is freaking out. Dad is putting on a brave face but I can tell this is eating him up inside but he refuses to talk about it. I just… I need to know if there’s a scientific explanation to all this. I need to make sense of this whole mess!” he looked up at her through his lashes with his best puppy-dog expression, “Please, can you help me?”

Tim could practically hear her heart melting.

“And the Oscar goes to… Timbird!” Jason teased over the comms.

“Alright. But not here,” Jazz said, standing up again, “This is gonna take some time. And diagrams.”

Oh goodie.

Part 5

#dcxdp #dpxdc #dc x dp #dp x dc #danny phantom #batman #batfamily #jazz fenton #tim drake #red robin #jason todd #red hood #prophecy universe #the one where clockwork uses prophecies to mess things up (and set things right) #tim drake loves acting #help how did this get so long

[ckret2]

Chapter 50 of by this point human Bill Cipher is almost relieved to be imprisoned in the Mystery Shack again: Bill tells Mabel about his adventures, and Ford and Dipper tell Fiddleford about theirs.

But first Bill's gonna die for a bit.

"Guys! You're okay!" Mabel flung her arms around Dipper and squeezed him. "We were worried you were floating around and broke your legs when the gravity came back."

"N—no, we were fine," Dipper said. 

Mabel let go of Dipper to hug Ford next—and then drew back, looked him up and down, and looked at Bill. "What happened to your clothes?"

Bill said, "We fell in the lake."

"Ha!"

"Tate was kind enough to loan us dry clothes," Ford said.

"You look like big dorks." She turned to Bill last, took in his dirty haggard appearance, and said, "And you look awful. Where have you guys been the last two days?"

"Thanks for asking! I've been in..." Bill glanced at Stan. "Am I allowed to say the name of the place I've been?"

Stan shook his head. "Not in front of the kids, you don't."

Bill sighed. "Agony. I've been in agony."

"Aww!" She hugged Bill last. "I like your stupid Fishmas sweater."

"Consider it yours as soon as I can change." He wriggled out of her embrace to point at his feet. "Check out the shoes, though!"

Mabel cracked up. "Omigosh, fish slippers! Fi— Fishlers? Fishppers?"

"Fishoes?"

"Fishoes!"

Soos said, "What did happen out there?" He was in the kitchen, cleaning and reorganizing after zero gravity had tossed everything out of order. "Did you heroically save Gravity Falls from imminent multidimensional devastation?"

Ford said, "No. Aside from the effects on gravity, it... turned out to be a benign phenomenon."

"Oh," Soos said. "Like... what Bill said?"

Ford grimaced. He managed to just nod instead of saying afraid so.

Again, he expected Bill to gloat; again, Bill said nothing. He didn't even look at Ford.

"It wasn't an eclipse, though," Dipper muttered, shooting a dark look at Bill. "It would've been an eclipse if it had gotten between us and gravity. It was basically the opposite."

"What do you want from me." The question was more sighed than spoken. "It was called an eclipse when I was growing up, I dunno what to tell you."

Ford, Dipper, and Mabel all looked straight at Bill at the mention of his childhood; but he didn't say anything more. He just trudged to the kitchen and leaned tiredly on the doorframe, watching Soos work. "Grab me something from the fridge."

"Sure thing, dawg." Soos opened the door. "What do you want?"

Bill was silent for a moment. Slowly, like a spirit medium channeling a faint message from the other side, he said, "I think... the body wants a vegetable. Gimme some guacamole."

"Sorry, dude, we had the last of it with dinner."

"Fine. Just give me an avocado and salsa, I'll make do."

"You got it."

"Two avocados."

Soos started rummaging through the jumbled mess in the fridge. "So if everything was okay, what took you guys so long to get back?"

"Yeah, I've been wanting to ask," Stan said. (He hadn't been able to in the car; when everyone realized Bill had passed out as soon as he'd sat down, they'd fallen into an awkward silence.) "Was the demon making trouble or what?"

Dipper and Ford exchanged a glance; who wanted to share the embarrassing news? Ford said, "Actually, under the circumstances, he was... well behaved." Ford resisted the urge to add the modifier "tolerably." It seemed mean-spirited. Bill had constantly complained, sure, but in retrospect could Ford say the complaints were unjustified?

"Then what took you so long?"

Now Ford felt Bill's gaze on him, watching him sharply. Ford understood now. This was why Bill hadn't mentioned saving them. He was holding it in reserve—offering a deal. If Ford and Dipper didn't embarrass him, he wouldn't embarrass them. If they mentioned his breakdown, he could cut in, claim it was natural for him to be in shock after performing such a difficult, heroic deed.

It wasn't blackmail, per se. Revealing the truth wouldn't cost anybody anything but a bit of momentary self-consciousness. But wasn't that just like Bill—only passing up an opportunity to boast so he could use it to shield his ego.

"It was Bill's fault," Dipper said quickly. Ford's heart leaped into his throat. "Because—we had to climb up and down the tunnel to Gravity Peak, and he only brought dress shoes and dumb fish slippers. We kept having to slow down."

Ford felt the pressure of Bill's gaze slide off of his face as he turned away, staring back into the kitchen. Bill said, "Yep. Guess I should have brought my hiking shoes—oh, wait."

Stan said, "You could've got some better shoes when we were at the mall! You're the one who wanted those dumb dress shoes."

"In my defense, I didn't think you paranoiacs would ever let me wander around in the great outdoors—much less force me to." He leaned more heavily against the doorway with a groan, muttering, "My legs are still jelly. Worthless human body."

Dipper glanced at Ford, as if checking with him to see if he'd made the right decision. Ford gave him a tiny nod of approval. After the day they'd had, humiliating Bill just for the sake of humiliation wouldn't have served any justice; it would have just been mean.

For the past three decades, Ford had always felt that Bill deserved the strongest possible punishment, both for his prior atrocities and to prevent future ones; but, he wanted to deal with Bill swiftly and efficiently. No gloating, no torture—just one quick shot. Sure, he got some grim satisfaction from knowing Bill was unhappy—knowing that Bill's vile intentions were being thwarted—and if anyone decided to treat Bill cruelly for cruelty's sake, he couldn't say they were wrong for it... but the thought of committing it himself made him uneasy.

He tried to remember if he'd felt that way when Bill had first arrived.

"I found the salsa!" Soos called from the fridge. "Somehow it all floated onto the highest shelf? Which kind do you want?"

"That one with a picture of a sobbing baby on it."

"Extra spicy it is!"

When Soos handed over the salsa and avocados, Bill said, "Hey, Hick Junior said his father was making announcements about staying inside and low to the ground? You didn't happen to have anything to do with that, did you?"

"Oh—yeah, I called Old Man McGucket and said I had a hot anonymous tip about what was going on," Soos said. "You said it was this whole public safety thing, so I figured the whole town should probably know? He's the local respected science guy now, I thought he'd know what to do with that kind of important information."

Bill grunted. "Terrific, he gets credit for my help. But you'd all be giving me heck if I'd said nothing and half the town broke their necks, so... whatever, net zero. Here." Bill took off the Monster-Mon backpack and swung it over to Soos. "Your reward. Good job."

"Whoa, haha, this is heavy. What's in here, a bag of rocks?"

"No, just one." Bill pushed off the doorway, wheeled unsteadily around, and trudged toward the stairs.

Soos unzipped the bag. A drugged geodite blinked sleepily up at him. He gasped. "Dude! A real Monster-Mon! Is this my call to epic adventure with a lovable animal sidekick?"

Ford grimaced, remembering watching Bill feed a geodite cold medicine. "Ah."

"I think I'll name you... Rocky," Soos said.

"That—really shouldn't be here. Its natural environment is caves, I don't know if it's safe for it to be out here—for it or us." They had been known to bite.

"Aww." Soos cradled the backpack like a swaddled baby. "Do you think it would be okay if I made it a fake cave to live in?" He gasped. "I could make an exhibit for him! I'll say he's a living meteorite! People love aliens."

"I'm not sure that..." Ford sighed. Well, none of them were going back to the cave today. "Maybe you should put it in the cellar where it's darker."

"Great idea!" Soos carried the geodite through the living room. "Hey, I've already got a mattress down there. You're gonna love it, lil dude..."

Ford hoped Soos didn't get attached to that thing. He shot a glower at Bill.

Bill was already on the stairs. "Now everybody leave me alone. Except you." He pointed at Mabel. "I don't want to do anything but lay on the floor and talk about whatever Mabel wants to talk about for the next three hours."

"Cartoons and boy bands."

"Yes," Bill sighed in relief, already preparing to turn 95% of his brain off. "Wow, yes, that's exactly what I want to talk about. I can't wait." He grabbed the handrail as he climbed heavily, leaning against it for balance as he dragged himself upstairs.

Before Mabel could follow him, Ford put a hand on her shoulder. "Oh, before you go—there's something I wanted to tell you and Dipper." Voice low, he said, "You remember when you told me that Bill had mentioned Edward Bishop Bishop?"

"Yeah? When we were drawing our houses."

"Something Bill said while we were out shook a memory loose. It reminded me of a book I read as an undergraduate—Flatworld, written by Edward Bishop Bishop."

"Aww," Mabel said. "Not an artist?"

"No, although he did illustrate the book," Ford said. "It's a novella that combines Victorian social commentary with a primer on higher-dimensional mathematics by using an allegory about sentient shapes living in a two-dimensional world."

"That's what you were talking about in the boat, right?" Dipper asked. "When Bill said something about..." He scrunched his face, trying to remember, "'Up in the sky'...?"

"Upward-but-not-skyward," Ford said, "to describe something that isn't higher than us in the third dimension, but rather, in a higher dimension relative to us."

"How do you know about it?" Dipper asked. "The first time it came up, you said the name Edward Bishop Bishop was familiar, but..."

Ford sighed in irritation, "I read it as an undergraduate—in a haze of sleep-deprived exhaustion just before finals week—to get extra credit in a course on the history of mathematics. I immediately forgot ninety percent of it—which I'm sure is why I never thought of it in relation to Bill. If only I'd remembered the book thirty years ago, when it might have done me some good..."

"It's okay," Mabel said. "I forget almost everything I've read for class basically as soon as I've taken the test. I think it's pretty good that you remember anything about Flatworld at all!"

Ford smiled awkwardly. He was afraid that might say more about Mabel's study habits than about his. "Thank you, Mabel."

"And you did have a lot on your mind thirty years ago," Dipper said. "Like, Bill. Literally. On your mind."

Mabel added, "Doing creepy possession things!"

"I suppose that's true, too." What would he have done if he had remembered the book during that frenetic, delirious period when Bill and Ford had wrestled for control over his body? He'd been in no fit shape to go to the library. "I did think about it a couple of times in the multiverse—when I was visiting Exwhylia, for instance—but at the time I'd brushed it off as a lucky coincidence that I'd read a book that invented a society of shapes. It wouldn't be the first time science fiction predicted science fact. But now that Bill's mentioned it twice, I'd say it's less likely a coincidence and more likely that Edward Bishop Bishop was another of his 'students.'"

"Is there a way for us to find out?" Dipper asked. "If he was Bill's student, would he have left behind any... hints? Coded messages?"

"Like secret society conspiracy things?" Mabel asked.

"Yeah!"

"I suppose it's possible," Ford said. "If Flatworld happens to feature a one-eyed yellow triangle sharing the secrets of the universe, we'll know for sure. But, there's only one way to find out: now that I do remember the book, we can pick up a copy for research."

"That's great," Dipper said. "If Bill told the author about his home dimension... there's no telling how much we can learn about him by reading it."

"So it's basically a math textbook disguised as a story?" Mabel groaned. "That's just like doing word problems! The most confusing kind of math problems. Why does Bill keep making me have homework this summer?"

"You know what he's like," Dipper said, elbowing her with a grin. "Dastardly villain."

"Pure evil."

Ford huffed. "If it helps, as I recall the book teaches you about math concepts, but it doesn't make you do any math."

She let out a longer, more theatrical groan. "Fine. But if there's a cousin Throckmorton I'm throwing the book away."

"I dunno, sounds kinda neat," Dipper said. "It might give me a leg up when we start geometry."

"I don't remember the details of what it covers, but I bet it could," Ford agreed. "I have to visit Fiddleford this evening to return the equipment he loaned us, and... discuss the events of the last couple of days. If the library's still open when we're done I can go by and see if they have a copy of Flatworld."

"Can I come along?" Dipper asked.

"Of course. Just give me a moment to..." He looked down at himself, "change into something a little less ridiculous."

Dipper tried not to laugh. "Okay. I'll wait here. Mabel, do you want to...?"

"No thanks!" She pointed upstairs. "I've got a captive audience to teach about boy bands. I'm going to make him listen to Sev'ral Timez's entire discography."

"He's already had a pretty bad day. Don't torture him even more."

Mabel blew a raspberry. "He'll love it." She bounded up the stairs.

Ford headed to his and Stan's guest room. Dipper took off his backpack, dropped it in the living room, and stuck his hands in his pockets—then pulled one out in surprise.

The enchanted friendship bracelets. They were still in his pocket. Bill hadn't had them on since Dipper's out-of-body experience that morning.

Dipper stared at them uneasily; then hung them in their usual place on the entryway coat rack and resumed waiting for Ford.

####

It was a rare opportunity that Bill was allowed in the kids' room; but with Ford and Dipper out of the house, the one person most likely to complain wasn't around. So after having extracted a strict promise for him to behave himself, Mabel had let him in, for ease of gossip and CD-switching.

But even if Dipper had been in the room, he wouldn't have found much worth complaining about. Once Bill had finished his snack (he'd eaten the avocados like pears, skin and all, and drank down the salsa like a chunky smoothie), he'd laid down on the floor, and since then had remained a dead lump. Face buried in his crossed arms, curled up in the oversized Fishmas sweater and a set of loose stolen-from-Soos sweats to replace the towel skirt, he might as well have been a pile of laundry that had sprouted curly golden hair. Mabel had put Sev'ral Timez's first album on the boombox, sat herself on Bill's back, and started brushing out his damp, knotted curls without asking as she talked about each track.

To her delight, Bill started insisting they skip past the slow, emotional love ballads, saying he preferred the bouncier dancier tracks; she thought the fact that he was displaying a preference rather than begging to turn the band off was a good sign. He was actually listening to the music. Possibly even liking it! Maybe she'd manage to convert him into a fan. She recounted her experiences with the band's cloned members and Bill threw in the polite "Mhm" and "Uh-huh?" where appropriate without lifting his head from the floor or opening his eyes. She'd thought he might have had something to throw in about the cloning thing, that seemed like the kind of conspiracy nonsense he might have a hand in; but if he knew anything, he wasn't up to sharing it.

When she'd wrangled his hair into some semblance of order, she got to work on his fingernails. His arm was like a dead weight in her hands, loose and unresisting but not helping, either. He shifted his head over to rest on his other arm and otherwise didn't move.

"Your fingernail polish is destroyed," Mabel said. On three fingers the paint had been all but completely scraped off. When he'd left a couple of days ago, it had just been lightly chipped. She started stripping the remainder with nail polish remover.

"Is it?" Bill mumbled. "Mmh. Yeah, probably from clawing in the dirt."

"Pfff. What did you do the last couple of days?"

Bill slowly sucked in a breath so deep that Mabel felt his back lift her a little higher off the ground; and then he just as slowly let it back out. "Do not," he said, "get me started."

He got started.

He began with a tirade about the contempt that both Ford and Dipper had shown him and his far superior subject matter expertise for the last two days; and then about being hauled out and exposed during totality after repeating over and over how dangerous it was and how much he would prefer to not do that—Ford had even admitted he'd dragged Bill out into open air just because he knew how much he didn't want that!—and from there Bill looped back to listing a whole litany of gripes against what he perceived as egregious and undeserved disrespect from Ford over the last couple of weeks—"Youmight have lied to me about that glass pyramid, but at least you didn't laugh in my face about it!"

(Mabel thought Ford pretty much had the right to be as disrespectful to Bill as he wanted, after everything Bill had put him through. Lying about a silly imaginary cult was less mean than lying about taking over the universe. But part of being a good friend, she knew well, was lending a sympathetic ear to your friend's venting without suggesting that said friend might be in the wrong. She had a Color Critters episode about being honest with your friends she could show him later.)

Bill seemed to gain strength as he aired his grievances, bolstered by Mabel's encouraging "mhm" "uh-huh" noises. By the time she'd finished repainting his first hand (she'd picked a glittery purple polish she thought would complement all the yellow he wore), he was sitting upright and Mabel had to sit in front of him to start on his other hand.

"—and my stupid feet hurt," Bill griped. "Since Stanford made me traipse halfway through the mountain barefoot because he wouldn't let us go back down before the gravity returned and I don't even own shoes for spelunking. And my knees hurt, and my back hurts, and I could have killed for a walking stick but do think they'd have allowed me one if I asked? Because I don't think so! I tripped over—I don't know, a hundred roots."

"Worst hiking trip ever." Mabel finished painting his second hand, and started looking through her miniature sticker sheets for some fun stickers to put on Bill's first hand now that it was dry.

"Worst in the history of your planet! Even the Donner party had a better hike! At least some of them got something to eat," Bill said. "All I got for two days was a handful of cereal and Stanford's liquid meat in a toothpaste tube."

Mabel stuck out her tongue.

"And Stanford walks too fast. And your brother kept trying to squeeze through gaps between trees I couldn't get through. And Stanford kept fiddling with his—stupid—useless antique Civil War lantern he's so proud of, and he's just lucky that I thought to bring a way to find a light source even though I didn't even need one, because I knew he would bring that stupid Civil War lantern..." Bill's complaints petered out.

And then, voice oddly quiet, he said, "And I saw my corpse." 

Mabel looked up from carefully placing a yellow butterfly on Bill's middle fingernail. There was a dark look in his eyes. "Oh," she said. "Oh, Bill. I'm so sorry."

This wasn't just a bad camping trip. This was serious. She had to treat it seriously.

She ejected the current CD from the boombox, put in another Sev'ral Timez album, and skipped to track 4: "This goes out to anyone having a bad day. Ladies, this one's for you. 'Girl, today has been—straight whack. You don't know how you're gonna—bounce back. But any time you're down, I'll always be around; I'll drive your heart back to Happy Town'..." Oh yeah. That was the exact energy Mabel was trying to channel.

"And I didn't feel anything when I touched it." Bill was staring down at his hands like he barely recognized them. "No energy, no connection—nothing. What if there isn't a connection anymore? What if I'm just a human now?"

Did that weigh on Bill? Clearly, enough that he'd decided to endure imprisonment in the Mystery Shack rather than kill his body to see if there was still a triangle inside.

But he'd never talked about it before now; she'd thought maybe he just didn't worry about it.

But that was dumb. Of course he worried about it. He was just like her. When something scared him, he just pushed it down and hoped that if he ignored it enough, everything would be okay! Until he couldn't pretend anymore.

And she'd never heard him sound this scared before.

She took his hands and hoped that would help.

He squeezed her hands so hard it hurt. His still-wet nail polish smeared on her hand. "What if I'm really gonna grow old and die in this rotting meat doll, what if I never go home again—? There's so much I haven't done, I was going to throw an eternal party, it would have been beautiful, everyone would have loved me, but now— and now—" He let out a choked noise, head bowing over their joined hands, posture broken. Hot tears landed on the backs of Mabel's hands. "And I didn't even get to, just, die and be done with it, I have to know I'm dead, I have to know everything I was going to do..."

"Hey—come here." Mabel tentatively wrapped her arms around Bill's neck and shoulders, compressing his bouncy curls. She half expected him to pull away.

Instead, he buried his face against her shoulder and hugged her back like she was the only thing keeping him from drowning.

After spending the last two days suppressing his grief and fear so hard his body couldn't function through it—after spending over a month suppressing his grief and fear—finally, finally, he peeled the tape off his cracked shell to let it leak out. He couldn't hold it together anymore. He'd barely put himself back together long enough to get on his feet and make it to the shack. This was the only place it was safe to fall apart. He muffled his sobs in Mabel's sweater.

And Mabel—who was used to being comforted by adults but who had never been called upon herself to comfort anybody but her brother and the occasional friend—had no idea how she was supposed to comfort a zillion-year-old almost-definitely-adult alien through an existential crisis.

Not for the first time, she wondered whether she might have gotten in over her head.

She pushed the worry down. Everything would be okay. Bill needed her—she could feel him trembling—and he didn't have anybody else in the world he could trust. And if she didn't know what else to do, at the least she could keep hugging him.

Voice so tight it almost squeezed out as a whisper, Bill said, "I was going to make a utopia here, but now I'm just gonna die here."

"I'm so sorry." How do you comfort someone processing the fear of mortality? She'd never processed it herself, she was thirteen, it was just another scary future thing she'd deal with when she had to. The best she knew how to do was be nice. "But... I'm here, okay? For—for anything you need." (Anything that wasn't evil, anyway—but now was not the appropriate time to make Bill feel like her support was conditional.)

"Tell me I won't die."

"You won't die! You're never, ever gonna die." Mabel hugged him tighter. "I'll fistfight Death. I'll—break his bony kneecaps."

"Thanks."

"I'll swing at the reaper with a baseball bat."

Bill laughed feebly. "With nails in it?"

"Yeah! And barbed wire! Connected to a battery!"

"Oh, we're taking Death down. Nobody's dying ever again."

"Everybody lives forever!" Mabel laughed; but it quickly petered out. "But... I'm not gonna let you die. You're my friend, and I won't let anything happen to you."

Bill's trembling had stopped, and his embrace was less death-grippy. "I owe you one, Shooting Star." From Bill, "thanks" sounded hollow, but "I owe you one" really sounded like a thank you.

"Hey. If I tell you a secret, do you promise not to do anything evil with it?"

"Sure. Promise."

Mabel doubted it, but that was as good as she was gonna get. "I've always thought you're still a triangle on the inside. You've got those creepy cat eyes that see the future and stuff! If you were just a normal human, wouldn't you have normal human eyes?"

Bill made a noncommittal noise.

"Plus, if you'd really been turned into a human on the inside, then being in a human body wouldn't feel so bad—right? It'd just feel normal."

Bill was silent for a moment. Voice hoarse, he whispered, "I hope you're right."

####

Fiddleford answered the door himself. "Stanford, Dipper, come in! I was just cleaning up." He had a broom, and the great hall's floor behind him was sparkling with broken glass. Ford was relieved to see Fiddleford had put on shoes. Unfortunately, they were fuzzy slippers. "Pardon the mess!"

"Think nothing of it. The shack's been turned upside-down, too." Ford stepped around a broken chair. "Don't you have anyone to help you clean, though?"

"Oh, I do, I do! I built me a Janitorial Executive Drone to tidy up," Fiddleford said. "I'm just cleaning up the mess JED left."

Ford and Dipper looked around at the shattered glass, broken furniture, scorch marks around the fireplace, and torn curtains. Dipper asked, "Did... JED make this place any cleaner?"

"Not at all!"

Ford and Dipper caught Fiddleford up on their scientific findings of the last couple days. Ford was almost embarrassed to admit they hadn't found any noteworthy quantities of micro-rips, as if he were confessing to a personal academic embarrassment—even after Fiddleford pointed out that it had been his own theory, not Ford's. (All the same, Ford hated to be so wrong, even by association. Being wrong felt like a moral failing.)

In return, Fiddleford told them what he'd been up to. He'd confirmed with them NASA fellas that the odd gravity effects weren't detected anywhere but Gravity Falls. At their behest, he'd set up some sensors around town, and when gravity suddenly reversed, the measurements they'd taken had allowed him to make a very loose model of the shape of the force that caused it. He showed Ford and Dipper the model on a computer in his lab, black screen with sharp glowing green lines forming an armature in the shape of a force. It looked like an enormous flying sausage that tapered down at one end. Too little detail to tell exactly what it was; but it certainly could have been an axolotl.

It was turning to look at the cliff where they'd stood.

Fiddleford wasn't pleased to find out the information he'd passed on from Soos had originally come from Bill; but he'd suspected it and already done all his soul-searching before reluctantly sharing his advice with the masses and hoping it wouldn't come back to bite him. "He didn't bother to warn us that gravity would actually disappear today, though," Fiddleford said indignantly. "So he could crow about being right and still get to see some folks get hurt, I reckon."

"Actually, this time I don't think he was hiding it. I kinda think he just made a mistake?" Dipper said.

Ford nodded. "Dipper's right. Bill was incredibly alarmed this morning when it became clear our estimates were wrong. It only made more trouble for him."

"I suppose," Fiddleford said grudgingly; then gave them a sharp look. "This mornin'? You took him camping?"

Ford and Dipper winced. Ford mumbled, "Not for fun."

"Stanford Pines—!"

It took a minute of hooting and hollering before Ford could calm Fiddleford down enough to explain the circumstances: that they'd only brought Bill because of just how much he explicitly did not want to be brought; that it had been a thoroughly unpleasant experience for everyone and Ford had never expected it to be otherwise; and that Bill had proven useful—Ford decided not to share the details—but he hadn't forgotten that Bill always made himself useful before he betrayed someone. If a man helped a little old lady cross a street, opened her door for her, put up her groceries, and then knocked her out and burgled her house, only one of those actions mattered.

(Dipper fell silent rather than help reassure Fiddleford. Ford supposed that was because he'd objected to bringing Bill, too.)

Fiddleford grudgingly admitted that under the circumstances, bringing Bill had been logical. "But that's just the thing—sometimes your logic don't account for the fact that you've got human emotions, too."

"Ah, yes, those human emotions. One of my worst flaws," Ford joked.

Fiddleford didn't laugh. "I mean it, Stanford. The most logical plan in the world don't mean nothing if he talks you into throwing it aside."

Ford thought of all the times he'd let his temper get the best of him over the last couple of days. Could he really say he'd made the logical decision when he'd made it out of anger? "Yes. I... see what you mean."

"Just be careful," Fiddleford said. "I saw you under that demon's oppression for months and never thought it was anything worse than how you always got around finals week—heck, for all I saw, I reckon he coulda started possessing you without me noticing—and I don't want that to happen again!"

Dipper winced. Ford found somewhere other than Fiddleford's face to look.

"What?"

"He... did. Possess me." (Dipper didn't pipe up with his experience. Ford didn't blame him.)

"He what? When?!"

"Remember toward the end of the project? When I started pulling all-nighters to finish the calculations...?"

Fiddleford smacked his forehead and sank down into the nearest chair.

Ford winced again. "I should have told you." During their talks over the past year, he'd been very reluctant to mention Bill or the fallout at the end of the portal project. They both had. "But—I assumed you'd guessed by now. What did you think was happening?"

"Frankly? I thought you'd started taking something illicit."

Ford snorted. "I—all right." He'd done stupider things during finals week.

"If he was possessin' you, why didn't you ask for help? I could've found somebody who knows how to do exorcisms. Did he not let you? Or—or did I miss you trying to tell me...?"

Ford shook his head. "No, I didn't want an exorcism." He wasn't sure Bill was the kind of "demon" that responded to exorcisms anyway. "At the time, I thought... that he was helping me."

Dipper reluctantly piped up, "He... possessed me once too. I didn't know that's what he was doing until too late, but... Even after you know he's a bad guy, he's really good at making you think he's just helping."

Fiddleford didn't immediately say anything to that. Ford couldn't meet his gaze.

Finally, Fiddleford said, voice low and worried, "Just tell me you won't let him get into your head again. Either one'a you."

Dipper shook his head. "Definitely not."

Ford said, "As he is now with all his powers gone, I don't think he can enter my head. Anyway, I had a metal plate surgically installed—"

"I didn't mean that way."

Right. "I won't. I promise."

Fiddleford nodded. "Didja really get a metal plate installed?"

Ford knocked on it demonstratively.

"Hmm." Fiddleford stroked his beard thoughtfully. He pointed at a contraption in the corner that looked like a ten foot tall tuning fork with electricity arcing between its tips. "Try not to get within five feet of that thing."

Ford eyed it nervously.

####

Fiddleford insisted Ford and Dipper stay for dinner. It was the first proper meal they'd had after two days of tubes mushy meat and mushy vegetables; so they tried not to show their disappointment when they received mushy meat and mushy vegetables. Fiddleford's automatic meatloaf-and-mashed-potatoes maker did its job more competently than JED did its, but Ford suspected that was partially because it didn't have legs to let it go get in trouble.

As they drove back into town, a stoplight turned red at the intersection with Main Street. Ford glanced down Main toward the library and asked, "Do you still want to stop by the library?"

Dipper, who'd nearly nodded off, blinked sleepily. "Huh?"

"To pick up Flatworld?"

Dipper yawned. "Honestly, I kinda just wanna go home and sleep."

"I hear that." He'd almost drowned today. He was exhausted. "Perhaps this weekend."

"Aren't you going to that concert with Mabel?"

"Was that this Saturday?" He'd lost track. Mabel had won four tickets from some radio contest to see Phrancisco in Portland and had asked Ford if he'd like to come. "I'm undecided. I'd like to go—I've been a fan of Invisible Plastic Yellow since they formed." He was the one who'd told Mabel about the band after their Portland trip and gotten her their albums. He'd had a phase when he'd really gotten into cutting-edge underground new wave music. It had made him feel conventionally cool, which not many things did. Now, all his musical tastes were three decades behind. He hadn't even known Phrancisco had a solo career until Mabel came home with tickets.

"But she's bringing her friends, and whoever has the fourth ticket needs to chaperone; and I'm afraid an old man escorting around three young girls would look... odd. It may be more appropriate for one of the other girls' parents to go." But he did want to see Phrancisco. "Perhaps I'll wait and see whether Mabel talks me into it."

"Better pack your bag now, then."

Ford laughed. He had a point. "If I do go to Portland, maybe I can stop by a bookstore to pick up Flatworld. If it tells us anything useful about Bill, I suspect we'll want a household copy for reference."

He was eager to reread it. He'd forgotten so much of it since college. He only recalled the vague, overarching plot: something about a third-dimensional sphere teaching a second-dimensional square about realities with higher and lower dimensions—from zero dimensions up to four—and a stuffy society based on what geometric shape you were... but that was it. He probably never even would have remembered the phrase "up but not north" if Bill hadn't referenced it. He wondered how much it could have helped him if he'd reread it sooner.

Dipper yawned again. "Sounds good."

The light turned green; and Ford drove past the library and headed on home.

####

(After going full tilt for two months, we finally get a breather lol. I hope y'all enjoyed, and I look forward to hearing your thoughts!)

#bill cipher #human bill cipher #mabel pines #fiddleford mcgucket #grunkle ford #dipper pines #gravity falls #gravity falls fic #gravity falls fanart #fanart #my art #my writing #bill goldilocks cipher

[midnightanxietytm]

I have a silly idea :3

imagine Mabel recounting the “accident with the leaf blower” to the reader, who then proceeds to make sure Ford isn’t around and tells her about the “kissing practice robot” incident from high school (which they witnessed) if you don’t know what I mean watch the land before swine commentary video

meanwhile Ford is down in the basement and suddenly stops what he’s doing and is like “I feel a disturbance in the force.”

A/N: Oh my god the kissing bot is so iconic, Ford is such a dork for that one lol. Hope I met your expectations with this one , its been a while since I've written something more lighthearted. Thanks for the request!

Contents: Mabel and Reader spilling tea, talks about kissing and romance and other sappy things. Ford x Reader more implied than anything. Short and fun.

Word count: 500

You know something is wrong because Mabel isn't smiling, Mabel is always smiling. She walks through the gift shop door and goes straight to sit on the counter next to you with a big sigh.

“Alright, spill it, sunshine.” You say with a small smile, putting down the book you'd been reading in order to give her your full attention.

She looks up at you with big round eyes. “I dunno… The date went well, he even kissed me!” You gasp in pretend shock and that gets a small giggle out of her. “I know right?! But like… It felt weird! It wasn’t bad! Just weird… maybe I need more practice…”

That makes you laugh as you prop yourself near the checkout; “Mabel, darling, kissing isn't really some equation you can figure out, maybe he just wasn't the right person.”

She lets out another big sigh, but you can tell is more resigned and hopefull this time. “Yeah, I guess… Besides, I really don't want another leaf blower accident.”

You laugh again, Mabel has that charm. “The what accident now?”

“Oh my gosh, I never told you?! It's so embarrassing; I was obsessed with that boy, who turned out to be a bunch of gnomes by the way, and I wanted our first kiss to be perfect, so I stuck a photo of him on a leaf blower on suction made and used it to practice.” When she said that, both of you started to laugh so hard tears formed in your eyes. “I-t left like this huge bruise on my face!”

You lean your head on the table, trying to stop laughing, but the mental image of Mabel with a leaf blower stuck to her face is too much.

“Oh gosh you're just like your grunkle!” You say in-between wheezing.

“Wait which one?” Mabel asked, rubbing the tears off her eyes.

“Okay so…” You began, looking around just to check Ford wasn’t near. “Your Grunkle Ford, back in high school he built this robot…” You look around again, holding back laughter and bringing down your voice. “It was this mannequin head with a rubix cube for a mouth and it had an alarm that wouldn’t stop playing until he…” And you did quotation marks with your hands. “...kissed it right.”

And you both started laughing all over again. “That's so dorky oh my gosh!”.

“Right!? He's such a nerd.” You say, and there's a softness to it that eases Mabel's worries about romance all together. “It fell from his locker once and it started blasting the darn alarm! He couldn’t go anywhere for a week after that without people mimicking kissing noises. It was gross.” You chuckle and sigh, sitting back down on your stool. “Compared to that, a leaf blower is no big deal!”

“Compared to what?” Says a third voice.

You and Mabel snap your heads, seeing Ford standing on the doorway behind the vending machine.

Crap.

#gravity falls #midnight posts #taking requests #asks open #fanfic writing #my fic #ford x reader #ford pines x reader #grunkle ford #ford pines #mabel pines #gravity falls mabel #mabel is a sweetie #ford is a dork #midnight request

[writingwrench]

Confession (Stanford x Reader)

 I hope y’all enjoy! If you want me to write another or you have a suggestion, hit me up!

 Stanford glanced at the photo of the cheerful woman on his desk. She had this immutable, meanderous personality that he’d fallen hard for.

 Ever since they were younger, he’d had a type of respect for her enthusiastic and bubbly personality. Ever since high school (maybe even before then) he’d acquired an officious fervor for her. He didn’t really know how to tell her for fear of provoking some kind of rancor. 

 Even so, he ventured from his basement in search of his parsimonious heretic of a brother....

 “Stanley?” he asked,shutting the vending machine door. The twin was found sitting at the register, counting his day’s winnings.

 “Hey,bro!” he said, sea-tanned face splitting into a grin.

 “I need help,” Ford muttered,pulling a chair over to the counter and sitting down. 

 Stan set the money down,giving his brother his full attention. It wasn’t like him to ever ask for help. Even when they were on the Stan-O-War II.

 “I....I have feelings for (Y/N)....” he awkwardly began,hoping Stanley would understand. 

 Slowly, Stan began to smirk,before full acclaim filled the room. 

 “Finally, you admit it. It’s been over thirty years!” he laughed. Ford’s face was set aflame. He knew his brother wasn’t being callous, but he still felt somewhat ashamed for him to take this long to bring up the gall to tell her.

   Seeing Ford’s impression of a tomato, Stanley laughed again quietly,before,”Look,Poindexter, just go out there,hike up your big boy panties,  and tell her. She feels the same way...even though I don’t really understand, I am the better looking twin!” He grinned,winking. Which earned him an eye-roll from Ford.

 Still unsure, Ford, paused before the door, before Stan got fed up and just pushed him out to where (Y/N) was sitting with Dipper and Mabel. 

 “-I’m trying to nail that quack reporter for his actions,” She was saying. Stanford didn’t really understand what kind of conversation  he’d managed to walk into, but just hearing her voice, he’d instantly felt relieved. 

 “Hey, (N/N)?” he asked, nervousness seeping into his pores.

 “Hey, Ford!” she smiled brightly,turning to him. He stared at her for a moment, lost in her (E/C) eyes, before the awkward silence was broken by the angel he’d fell in love with.

 “What’s up?” she asked, not at all perturbed by the awkward silence. (She’d gotten used to it fairly quickly since Ford himself was such a cute, awkward person.)

 “I....um...I have to confess something,” he stuttered out, not meeting her eye for fear of peeing himself. He didn’t understand. He could take on demons and other horrifying creatures, but with a mere glance from (Y/N),his knees would buckle and he’d be a total loss for words.

 The girl raised a brow, signaling for him to continue....so he did.

 “I want...um...I would love.. gah,screw it! I’M IN LOVE WITH YOU!!” he yelled,startling (Y/N) and the younger twins.

 It was quiet until- “OH MY GOSH,GRUNKLE FORD!!!!!”

 (Y/N)’s face tinted pink.

 “Kids,” she said shakily,”Please give us some privacy.”

 They did as told, making their way to the house. It wasn’t long before she saw two heads pop up over the window sill. 

 Rolling her eyes and grinning, she rushed over to Ford,tackling him in a fierce hug. They both landed with a thud,before surprised giggles filled the air.

 “I love you too,Ford,” (Y/N) said, still grinning before pulling him to her by the front of his overcoat. Their lips met. The kiss was sweet and passionate, the  both of them marveling at how long it took for them to get to this point.

 They disconnected, resting their foreheads on each other’s shoulder, and quietly grinning.

 “(Y/N), I’m so sorry it took me so long,” Ford finally said,breaking the silence.

 He was met with another kiss.

 “It’s alright,you dork,” she said, still grinning.

 It may have taken forever, but she finally felt truly wanted.

#grunkle ford #stanford pines #gravity falls #fanfiction #x reader #stanford pines x reader

[broadwaytheanimatedseries]

Dude, My Babysitter Is A Ghost AU

AKA the Gravity Falls Danny Phantom crossover, and why it should have more content because IMAGINE the HIJINKS:

First, the sheer fucking Horror of Vlad and Gideon meeting, can you EVEN imagine?!?

But then also imagine the stupidest triangle in the world with; Stan trying to scam Vlad out of his money, Vlad trying to scam Ford out of his ideas, and Ford helping Mable matchmake his brother the con with the other scammer.

Why? well - "They'll kill each other or they'll kiss, maybe both." "Sounds romantic!" "Sounds disgusting, actually. But at least they'll leave me alone so, let's do it." "That's the spirit, sorta! Great to have you on board Grunkle Ford!"

Then you have Sam interacting with the teen squad and she fucking hates Robbie for being such a poser and a jerk, she barely gets along with any of them tbh except obviously Wendy and, perhaps less obviously, Thompson.

It's nor like Danny and Tucker don't hang out with the teen squad, but they've got their own things going on.

Danny has his hands full with the twins and their friends, not to mention the mystery shack as a whole.

Tucker took an apprenticeship with McGucket and now they are so ahead of the curve it's wild.

Jazz bonds with Wendy over being older sisters and with Dipper and Ford over science, but real goal is to help the town.

After the "never mind all that" act was repelled, people have been able to talk about their weirdmageddon experiences.

However, talking about it brought back unpleasant memories, and with the blind eye society gone those memories were there to stay.

That meant having to deal with supernatural trauma, for the first time in the case of many people in gravity falls, and luckily as a resident of Amity Park and a student of psychology, she wants to offer her support in any way she can.

Her help is not professional but it's very useful and she's about the only expert on the subject, able to help both the human townies who have dealt with the supernatural, and the supernatural residents witn their own complex issues.

Pacifica takes ass kicking lessons from Valerie and learns how to go from rich bitch who bosses people around to do her dirty work for her, to bad bitch who takes charge of her own life, can handle situations and gets 👏🏻 shit 👏🏻 done👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻.

She also recognizes Sam as Fellow old money with mommy and daddy issues and a crush on a nerdy loser dork who's too cute and smart and sassy for their soft hearts, despite their rough exterior, so they have an ✨️understanding✨️

There's so much more I can say, but I'll leave it here for now.

#dee writes #danny phantom #gravity falls #crossover #Dee's aus

[deadpresidents]

2 and a half weeks until JC passes Cactus Jack!

It took me a little bit to figure out what you were referencing, but yes, Jimmy Carter will pass John Nance Garner as the longest-living President or Vice President in American history on September 18th. And if he is still with us on October 1st, Carter will be the first President or Vice President in American history to celebrate their 99th birthday.

And since I'm a huge dork who finds this stuff interesting, here's the big, complete list of longest-living to shortest-living Presidents and Vice Presidents in American history: (Presidents are in bold text, Vice Presidents are in italics, and those who served as both POTUS and VP are in bold italics.) John Nance Garner: 98 years, 351 days Jimmy Carter: 98 years, 337 days (As of Sept. 3, 2023) Levi P. Morton: 96 years, 0 days George H.W. Bush: 94 years, 171 days Gerald R. Ford: 93 years, 165 days Ronald Reagan: 93 years, 120 days Walter Mondale: 93 years, 81 days John Adams: 90 years, 247 days Herbert Hoover: 90 years, 71 days Harry S. Truman: 88 years, 232 days Charles G. Dawes: 85 years, 239 days James Madison: 85 years, 104 days Thomas Jefferson: 83 years, 82 days Dick Cheney: 82 years, 216 days (As of Sept. 3, 2023) Hannibal Hamlin: 81 years, 311 days Richard Nixon: 81 years, 104 days Joe Biden: 80 years, 287 days (As of Sept. 3, 2023) John Quincy Adams: 80 years, 227 days Aaron Burr: 80 years, 220 days Martin Van Buren: 79 years, 231 days Adlai E. Stevenson: 78 years, 234 days Dwight D. Eisenhower: 78 years, 165 days Alben W. Barkley: 78 years, 157 days Andrew Jackson: 78 years, 85 days Spiro Agnew: 77 years, 261 days Donald Trump: 77 years, 81 days (As of Sept. 3, 2023) George W. Bush: 77 years, 59 days (As of Sept. 3, 2023) Henry A. Wallace: 77 years, 42 days James Buchanan: 77 years, 39 days Bill Clinton: 77 years, 15 days (As of Sept. 3, 2023) Dan Quayle: 76 years, 211 days (As of Sept. 3, 2023) Charles Curtis: 76 years, 14 days Al Gore: 75 years, 156 days (As of Sept. 3, 2023) Millard Fillmore: 74 years, 60 days James Monroe: 73 years, 67 days George Clinton: 72 years, 268 days George M. Dallas: 72 years, 174 days William Howard Taft: 72 years, 174 days John Tyler: 71 years, 295 days Grover Cleveland: 71 years, 98 days Thomas R. Marshall: 71 years, 79 days Nelson Rockefeller: 70 years, 202 days Elbridge Gerry: 70 years, 129 days Rutherford B. Hayes: 70 years, 105 days Richard M. Johnson: 70 years, 33 days William Henry Harrison: 68 years, 54 days John C. Calhoun: 68 years, 13 days William A. Wheeler: 67 years, 339 days George Washington: 67 years, 295 days Benjamin Harrison: 67 years, 205 days Woodrow Wilson: 67 years, 36 days William R. King: 67 years, 11 days Hubert H. Humphrey: 66 years, 231 days Andrew Johnson: 66 years, 214 days Thomas A. Hendricks: 66 years, 79 days Charles W. Fairbanks: 66 years, 24 days Zachary Taylor: 65 years, 227 days Franklin Pierce: 64 years, 319 days Lyndon B. Johnson: 64 years, 148 days Mike Pence: 64 years, 88 days (As of Sept. 3, 2023) Henry Wilson: 63 years, 279 days Ulysses S. Grant: 63 years, 87 days Franklin D. Roosevelt: 63 years, 72 days Barack Obama: 62 years, 30 days (As of Sept. 3, 2023) Schuyler Colfax: 61 years, 296 days Calvin Coolidge: 60 years, 185 days Theodore Roosevelt: 60 years, 71 days Kamala Harris: 58 years, 318 days (As of Sept. 3, 2023) William McKinley: 58 years, 228 days Warren G. Harding: 57 years, 273 days Chester A. Arthur: 57 years, 44 days James S. Sherman: 57 years, 6 days Abraham Lincoln: 56 years, 62 days Garret A. Hobart: 55 years, 171 days John C. Breckinridge: 54 years, 116 days James K. Polk: 53 years, 225 days Daniel D. Tompkins: 50 years, 355 days James Garfield: 49 years, 304 days John F. Kennedy: 46 years, 177 days

#History #Presidents #Vice Presidents #Longest-living Presidents and Vice Presidents #Presidential Data #Presidential Statistics #Presidential Facts #POTUS #VP #Jimmy Carter #President Carter #John Nance Garner #Vice President Garner

[hetaologist]

APH America "Ethnography" and Headcanons (SFW)

The United States of America, Alfred F. Jones, Mr. Stars and Stripes, 'Merica, Pretty Boy, um... or just simply America.

Here is a list of data I have gathered from this country and oh boy, what an interesting specimen we have here....

Ethnography

You will find this find this mythological creature at your local Walmart superstore during the evening hours on a weekday, sporting flannel loungewear pants (The plaid kind), a cotton t-shirt that definitely has been worn no less than two (2) times, Old Navy $1 flip flops, and a gray jacket.

When asked about his late night runs to the popular supermarket chain, his answer is just simply:

"There's nothing else to do and no where to go."

America's Cart Inventory for March 22nd:

One (1) package of "Mega Stuf Chocolate Oreos" for $5.97, One (1) 6-Pack of "Starbucks Frappuccino Chilled Coffee Drinks" in Caramel Flavor for $7.98, One (1) Family Sized Bag of "Flaming Hot Cheetos" for $5.94, One (1) "Furby Interactive Toy" for $39.19, and One (1) Stick of " Axe Apollo Men's Deodorant Stick" for $4.97. Total of purchase was $64.05 before tax.

When questioned about the "Furby Interactive Toy", he replies:

"Yeah dude, there's this thing I wanna make that's called a "Long Furby". Wanna come by my place and check it out?"

I agreed to the invination as it would give me a better look into his living space and lifestyle. He's very friendly person.

Living Space (Home):

Oh dear god, why did I agree to come here?

House is a what you would expect from a typical American college student such as:

"Saturdays Are For The Boys" banner flag, Marvel and DC posters, a very unsettling looking blue leather couch that looks like it has been through hell and back, random dumbbells and untouched exercise equipment, every game console from the 1972 "The Magnavox Odyssey" to the PS5, action figures from various popular TV shows and comics, an old KFC bucket with half eaten chicken on the coffee table and a shelf with a huge vinyl record and CD collection.

Conclusion: What a fucking gross nerd.

America offers a cold can of Coca-Cola, I accept it.

He shows me a very long light blue "Long Furby" from his collection, further proving how much of a dork he was.

When asked what kind of music he liked (in regards to his music collection), he replies:

"That's hard to answer, it changes every week. Because of my diverse music, I pretty much like everything. One week I could be listening to 1980's classic rock, 2000's techno-pop, Bluegrass Country, 1990's Hip Hop or anything. But, if I had to give you this week's favorite artist, it would have to be Taylor Swift and Doja Cat."

"Interesting..." I replied.

I have recorded enough data for today (the smell was bothering me) and left his home to do further extensive research.

Headcanons:

America has a deep love for cars and trucks, he can be seen working on his vintage 1968 Dodge Charger R/T called 'Thunderbird' (an absolute speed demon that can reach at top speeds of muthafuckin' 156 mph), and his enormous 2019 Ford F-150 'Big John' that he loves to drive to world meetings because he is a total stud muffin showoff.

Oh yeah, he defiantly modded 'Big John' horns with airblasters. So when he parks his car and he sees other nations come out of their vehicles, he pounds on that horn and scares the living shit out of them.

He totally does 2 am donuts in the Thunderbird the front of Walmart parking lots with his brother Canada to freak him out.

Other than seeing him work on his cars while listening to "Waking Up in Vegas by Katy Perry" on the radio, he's in his room sorting out his action figure and comic book collection.

Damn, what what a geek.

He has an eBay account where he buys, trades and auctions his collection as his interests constantly change.

If you think him being a geek, dork and a nerd is gonna save him from getting a basic ass Stanley cup, you're wrong.

He has a navy blue one that he takes to meetings and he would get dirty looks from the other nations.

"Goddamn it America, you do not need that much coffee."

"Fuck you, you scone sucking twink. It's not coffee, it's the Panera Super Charged Lemonade mixed with Redbull."

"I beg your fucking pardon..."

He gave Canada a red one for his birthday that he also takes with him to meetings.

"Canada, mon ami~. That better not be that merde American drinks that makes your heart explode."

"No, it's Tim Hortons iced coffee."

"Well.. that's better than what America drinks..."

#hetalia headcanons #hetalia axis powers #hetalia oc #hws #hetalia world stars #hetalia america #aph america

[staring-at-my-keyboard]

Chatting over Dinner

An isolated moment shared between a family, some of which are interdimensional travelers.

୨⎯✎✎⎯୧

Just a Gravity Falls Blind Faith AU snippet that was the result of me wondering about the character dynamics of the BF twins and the Pines after said twins stumbled through one of the scattered rifts that the Pines were fixing in 'Lost Legends'.

୨⎯✎✎⎯୧

Fluff

Comedy

TWs:

⇾ none!

Blind Faith twins: Sixer & Lee

Canon Mystery Twins Classic: Ford & Stan

୨⎯✎✎⎯୧

“So I says: ‘Which one of us here has more eyes?’ Then wham! He stabs me!” Lee recounted, punctuating himself by slamming a fist on the table, causing the silverware to rattle. Mabel gasped, and the Fords jumped.

Sixer frowned. “Not h-how it- it- it went… at all.”

“That’s how it went because I say that’s how it went,” Lee argued flatly. “Tell me again, which one of us goes on useless rambles about the 'inherent non-existence of objective truth' or whatever the hell?”

“N- not in th-this… this instance.” Sixer retorted.

“What, so stuff is only up in the air if it’s convenient for you? Like that one time you denied eating all the walrus butter?” 

Sixer opened his mouth, paused, then sank back in his chair, tips of his ears red.

“Uh-huh. I thought so.”

“Walrus… butter?” Dipper cocked his head.

“Kinda similar to peanut butter, believe it or not- at least in that dimension. It was for seeing stuff that normally wouldn’t exist with normal human eyes, even ones like this-“ Stan gestured to his bionic one with one hand and shoveled potatoes into his mouth with the other, with a mumbled ‘damn these are good.’

“Woah! Ford never mentioned anything like that!” Dipper enthused. “Can you tell me more?”

Stan said something through his food that was along the lines of ‘Can you let a guy eat a meal first?’, although it came out more like “C’n y’l guy eath’meal f’rth?”

“How did you acquire that, by the way?” Ford inquired, gesturing to Lee’s eye while halfway through eating a tomato like an apple. “I’ve found precious few worlds whose cybernetic offerings even rarely cater to the human body, much less a part of it as complicated as the eye.”

“Well, Sixer here made it for me!” Lee answered, practically glowing with pride. “He even retrofitted it with heat and night vision! Pretty awesome, if I do say so myself.”

“Really?” Ford leaned towards his counterpart. “Do you still have the schematics? If so, you’ll have to show me at some point. I’ve always struggled with combining biology and technology harmoniously, but you’ve done a wonderful job here.”

“See, that’s what I keep telling ‘im, but for some reason he insists on disagreeing with me.” Lee tutted.

“Could… could be b- b- better.” Sixer mumbled. 

Lee let out an exasperated sigh.

“Well, yes, everything could be better, but that doesn’t negate the quality of its existence in the present,” Ford reassured, before standing and leaning over the table towards an increasingly confused Lee. “Regardless of what may be missing, this is still remarkable! I wouldn’t even know where to begin in suggesting improvement! If I could…”

Ford came dangerously close to just manhandling Lee’s face before Stan grabbed his sweater and hauled him back down into his seat.

He swatted the back of Ford’s head. “Give a man some space, you dork,” Stan turned to Lee apologetically. “Sorry about him.”

“Please. Do you know how many times my Ford has just randomly grabbed my face when he thought my eye was glitching? Plot twist: it never was.”

Both Fords groaned.

#gravity falls #gravity falls fanfiction #fanfiction #blind faith au #gravity falls blind faith au #gravity falls au #snippet #ford pines #stan pines #mabel pines #dipper pines #comedy #a plethora of pines

[stop-spreading-this-poll]

Round 1 Poll 78: Relationship stuff

The Addams Family submission:

The idea that Gomez is ""Connecticut Clark"", ""just Ken"", or ""knows Morticia is out of his league"", or that his only purpose is to be Perfect Husband And Father to the point of talking about him as if he's not his own person. The Connecticut Clark meme is meant to refer to a character with no supernatural traits, no interesting backstory, and nothing special or unusual about him, married to a cool supernatural wife. I do not think ""nothing unusual about him"" applies to a master swordsman (at least in the films, the competence of other versions admittedly varies) who in the 60s show built a robot and a supercomputer in his home, is unharmed by leaping out of a plane without a parachute, has 6 toes on one foot and might have a tail, and regularly eats poison and is unaffected by it. He is an Addams. His mother is a witch. He is descended from a long line of pirates and outlaws. He IS a goofy dork but he is not JUST some random goofy dork. ""Just Ken"" similarly tends to refer to a character who doesn't do much or have many skills and is very much secondary to his wife or girlfriend... Gomez is not a supporting character in a story about Morticia, he is an equally major character to her in most versions of the series, and fights and defeats the villains of a story more than once. Surely if we're going to see them as couple goals, part of what makes their relationship so healthy IS that they are both their own people with their own interests, friends, and lives? A relationship where one is just the other's sidekick doesn't sound like goals to me. He also doesn't really seem to think of Morticia as out of his league--he adores her, obviously, but his high opinion of her is *not* usually accompanied by a low opinion of himself. He's actually pretty confident, and even a bit vain about his looks (even the less conventionally attractive versions), and has said at least once that he considers *her* fortunate to be married to *him*, as well as obviously considering himself lucky to be married to her. It's frustrating as a fan of his character when lots of people SAY they love him, but only really seem to love how much he loves Morticia, forget about the things he's canonically good at in favour of ""all he knows how to do is love his wife"", aren't interested in exploring his relationships with anyone other than Morticia and maybe Wednesday (I'm talking the rest of his family, but also his friends, and in most versions he did also have other romantic relationships before meeting Morticia), and don't really want to discuss him as a person (especially when it comes to...his actual flaws as a person that aren't just ""he's dumb, but it doesn't matter because he's so sweet"", or his canon mental health issues, or piecing together his backstory from the bits of info we get about it, or...really anything about what might actually be going on in his head rather than him just being a kind of satellite characters). Especially when people will analyse Morticia in such detail and with the Netflix show in particular are now doing the same for Wednesday.

Gravity Falls submission:

ford hating/not caring about/overlooking/belittling/underestimating mabel. this one goes out to you "Return to the Bunker"

#stop spreading this insert fandom here poll #the addams family #gomez addams #morticia addams #gomez and morticia #gravity falls stanford #gravity falls #stanford pines #mabel pines #gravity falls mabel

[ailius-suffers-through-art]

again, too lazy to draw a whole comic so plot summary here:

rpg au kinda inspired by that one animation meme on youtube by Mintartem

as always, please note that the twins are aged up to 18 in this

So basically, towards the end of weirdmaggedon bill is facing down the pines family in the fearamid when too much weirdness leaks through the rift and everyone gets dragged into a different dimension. This dimension just so happens to be a D&D themed one.

Everyone wakes up to find themself stuck as a different race and class, including bill.

Dipper and Mabel end up as half elves; Dipper being a Wizard and Mabel being a Bard who only sings cheesy boyband songs.

Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford find out they've become wood elves; Ford being an Artificer and Stanley a Rogue.

Lastly, Bill comes to as a regular old human sorcerer.

Bill, for once, has to play by this dimensions rules, as the god who governs it (the DM) is stronger than he is. Of course, this doesn't mean he can't have fun where he is, though, so he charismas himself an army and makes himself the big bad evil guy™ of the campaign.

Ford and Dipper share a nerd bonding moment about where they are before getting serious again and trying to figure out how to escape this place.

The party immediately splits (much to the chagrin of both nerds) as Mabel sprints after the nearest hot fantasy guy and Stan heads to the market to scam people out of their gold. Dipper ends up getting left with Stanley since Ford immediately takes off after Mabel to look after her.

Cue cute Grunkle bonding for both siblings.

After a couple days and a lvl up to multiclass ranger, Dipper is thrown a bone by a deity and told that if he manages to defeat the BBEG™ they might be able to leave. Once he has that, he manages to scrounge up a bit of info from tavern gossips about who the BBEG is and sets off for the ominous castle behind the town.

He tries to get Stan to come with him, but the man is having too much fun getting rich. So, alone but overconfident, he busts down Bill's door and tries to burn his face off. This obviously does not work and dip gets put straight into bills mini prison.

They bicker for a while and Dipper nearly escapes by tricking a guard into giving him lunch in his cell and taking his keys and making a run for it, but he gets caught after setting around half the castle on fire.

He gets brought to Bill, who is fed up with him and is about to execute him, when one of Bill's minions lets him know about an attack on his forces somewhere in the middle of the forest. Badabing badaboom guess who is suddenly useful again?

So Bill switches his tune real fast and tries to coerce Dip into leading him to the location using his nature navigation skills, and Dip reluctantly agrees so he has a chance to gtfo of there.

Blah blah blah they find the monster and end up having to hide somewhere and slowly start to bond because Bill finds Dip annoyingly endearing and realizes he's decently competent, and Dip comes to appreciate Bill's chaos and comes to enjoy their butting of heads.

Ford and Mabel eventually end up rejoining Stan and they go on a quest to find Dipper. In the meantime, Dipper and Bill annoy eachother in various wacky ways whilst trying to solve the mystery of who keeps threating Bill's BBEG status.

NOW that i've caught you guys up to speed, here's a moment that came to me in the middle of the night that compelled me to draw it. Takes place after these dorks officially get together.

#Bill is a massive fucking doofus change my mind #jokes on you. you cant #every time i draw these idiots i cant help but make them disgustingly adorable #idk why they just give off such dork energy to me?? #This is the wholesome dumbass billdip agenda #Viva la fluff #original art #gravity falls #bill cipher #billdip #dipper pines #dungeons and dumbasses AU

[ckret2]

What does bill usually eat and drink? And how often? Does he eat when the rest of the humans do?

First choice:

When there's a meal being served—such as Abuelita cooking dinner or Stan grilling burgers—Bill eats whatever everyone else eats. (Provided he got to see Abuelita cook—to ensure cyanide wasn't an ingredient in his serving.) This accounts for maybe 15% of his meals.

Second choice:

If he happens to be in the kitchen at the same time as someone else, he'll ask them to open the fridge/cabinets to let him get food for himself or, more rarely, ask them to prepare something he isn't allowed to prepare for himself. This means he'll often eat at the same time as them, because swooping into the kitchen while THEY'RE eating means he can get food too.

When he does have full kitchen access, he creates the most disgusting concoctions known to mankind.

Human brains are wired from infancy to find almost all tastes disgusting until they've had them enough to learn to appreciate them (i.e., accept they aren't poisonous)—why kids are generally pickier eaters than adults. The Axolotl trusts that Bill knows enough about human diets to know what is and isn't food—he does—so Bill didn't get given a baby palate. Instead, he's the opposite: he finds almost all tastes okay. Nothing really tastes bad to him.

So his measure for food that "tastes good" isn't QUALITY of taste, but QUANTITY of taste. Bland food is disgusting. The more and stronger flavors a food has, and the more different they are from each other, the more he likes it.

When making his own food he wants maximum flavor for minimum effort. This is why he has a tendency to take as many condiments as he can, no matter how poorly they go together—in fact, ESPECIALLY if they go poorly together—mix them into a slurry, and then drop in enough solid food to cover his body's minimum nutritional needs. (He would do the same thing with spices, but the spices are kept in a cabinet and it's just not worth the trouble to him to specifically ask for access.)

As of chapter 39, he's no longer willing to ask someone else to help prepare something for him, and won't ask Ford to so much as open the fridge for him. Full kitchen access used to account for about 35% of his meals, now it's more like 25%.

Third choice:

If no one's in the kitchen, he won't go looking for someone; he'd rather starve than plea for food from the people who took his food access away. Instead, he'll just eat whatever he can scrounge off the open shelving. That means no food that requires refrigeration, cooking, or microwaving; and no food that's canned, in glass jars, or needs scissors to open. In practice, this means a whole lot of junk food—chips, cookies, candy, jerky, cereal, soda. The most nutritious thing he has regular and easy access to is peanut butter. He has a lot of peanut butter sandwiches. He dislikes peanut butter sandwiches, but he understands nutrition better than most humans and knows chips and jerky can only carry him so far. Scrounging accounts for 60% of his meals.

Beyond all that:

He likes triangle-shaped foods because he is, in fact, that much of an egotistical dork. He will legitimately get angry about nachos with circular or rectangular tortilla chips.

And (with Mabel's encouragement) he's become a fan of dumping sprinkles on as many things as possible. You know how grocery stores sell a bunch of different mixes of sprinkles? Different styles & colors & textures & shapes? Mabel has brought a WIDE variety of sprinkles into the house, and is teaching Bill the fine art of mixing sprinkles artistically for maximum aesthetic value. He likes the fancy-looking gold/silver/white varieties.

He drinks too much—usually, but not exclusively, to get to sleep. This is a bad thing. If called on this, he gets defensive, suggests he needs it like a "medication" to numb the discomfort of fitting a triangular soul in a human body—like taking medicine to prevent a body from rejecting a donor organ—and that the humans wouldn't understand it so they have no room to criticize. This is a VERY bad thing. I'd say he's speedrunning alcoholism, except he's continuing a pattern of substance abuse he had as a triangle, so tbh he was already there.

#anonymous #ask #bill goldilocks cipher