#Ma McGucket

[thelastspeecher]

I was minding my own business at work today, just doing something, idly thinking about my nonsense. And then out of nowhere, like a burst of divine inspiration, an exchange that would take place in my Accidental Abduction AU appeared in my brain. And then I wrote a whole scene so that I could put that interaction in something.

So here's a random, out of the blue Accidental Abduction AU write. It takes place immediately following this one. Enjoy.

——————————————————————————————

              Stan followed the girl alien through the spaceship halls.  At first, the ship had reminded him of the things on Star Trek.  The general shape and construction of the hall and rooms still did, but it wasn’t quite as fancy and clean.  The ship looked a bit worn, like it had been used for a long time.  There were also intermittent decorations, most of them looking like they were either purchased at a craft fair or made by children at school.  Stan slowed to look at a vase that had been tucked away in a corner.  He would have expected the vase to house some weird alien plant, but the flowers inside were regular Earth roses.

              “My mother loves that kind of flower,” the girl alien said, noticing Stan’s distraction.  Stan’s attention quickly snapped back to her.  “We do not often go planetside when we are near Earth, but whenever we do, my father insists on procuring some for her.  He even found seeds a few trips ago, which has allowed my mother to grow her own.  They are not the same, though.  Something about our atmosphere or climate makes them grow…different.”

              “You guys go to Earth?” Stan asked, walking again.  The girl alien began to walk as well.  “Like, beam down on the planet?”

              “We do go down to Earth, but we land rather than teleport down.  My parents are, hmm, hopefully this translates properly.  They are…old school.  They do not like the teleportation function.”

              “Yeah, parents can be sticks in the mud sometimes,” Stan mumbled.  He frowned at the very inhuman alien girl.  “How the hell do you guys visit Earth without the government capturing you to dissect or whatever?”  The alien girl smiled, but this time, to Stan’s relief, hid her needlelike teeth.

              “We have our ways of visiting without drawing suspicions.”  The hallway suddenly opened into a wide room.  A white table, laden with exotic-looking food, was set in the middle of the room, ringed by white stools.  Underneath the table was a slick dark red rug and decorations like those in the hallway hung on the walls.  An alien with magenta hair like the girl alien and light pink skin was cleaning the kitchen area in the corner.  Next to the kitchen area was an entry to another hallway.  One of the walls was actually a large window, looking out into the void of space.  Stan was tempted to walk over to the window, but before he could, the very first alien that Stan had met on the ship spoke.

              “Ah!” said the alien, the father of the family.  He was sitting at the table, as was the alien girl’s brother.  The alien dad smiled at Stan.  “You have finally brought us our guest.”

              “He was distracted by the roses.”

              “I would imagine he was surprised to see something from Earth on our ship,” said the pink alien cleaning the kitchen.  Judging by her voice and general appearance, she was the mom of the family.  The alien mom turned around and scowled at her son and daughter.  “I am so disappointed in you two for not letting us know early enough to return this poor boy home.”  The alien girl and alien boy bowed their heads sheepishly.  Stan stood in the entryway awkwardly, uncertain of what to do.

              “Please, come sit,” the alien dad said.  Stan hesitantly walked over to the table and sat on one of the stools.  At first, the seat of the stool was far too low for him, but it automatically adjusted for his height, getting taller until he could reach the table properly.

              Makes sense they’ve got their chairs set short.  They’re all way taller than me.  Stan glanced around, mentally taking stock of the aliens’ heights.  The girl and boy were both at least six feet, while the dad was at least seven and the mom was nearing eight.  Are women taller than men for this species?  The alien dad coughed politely, drawing Stan’s attention.

              “When we first met, I was too flustered to ask for your name.  Would you mind sharing it with us?”

              “Uh, Stan.”  When Stan didn’t elaborate, the alien mom prompted him.

              “Earth names from your culture tend to consist of a given name and surname.  Could you provide us with your full name?” the alien mom asked.

              “How do you know about- y’know what, never mind.  My full name is Stanley Pines.  But call me Stan.”

              “Stan,” the alien mom said experimentally.  She smiled.  “How quaint.”

              Dunno if I agree with that assessment, but I’m not gonna argue with the people I have to rely on for the next year.  Ugh, I’ve got to depend on these guys for a full fucking year!

              “Well, Stan,” the alien dad said, “you will likely be unable to pronounce our names, so we shall have to come up with a workaround for that.  Now, however, it is time to eat.  We have done our research and made some food that should nourish you well.”

              “None of this stuff is gonna poison me?” Stan asked.  He suspiciously eyed the item directly in front of him, which looked like a small loaf of bright red bread with blue flecks.

              “Correct,” the alien mom said with a nod.  “I am familiar with what foods humans can and cannot eat and have removed all items harmful to you from the table.”

              “Um.  Okay.”

              “We will serve you,” the alien boy said quickly.  “That way you do not have to worry you are doing something wrong.”

              “…Okay,” Stan repeated.  He sat silently as the aliens filled a metal plate with the items on the table.  When the plate was placed in front of him, he stared at it.  Almost everything was a color that made alarm bells go off in his head.

              If I saw food on Earth that looked like this, it would either kill me or cost about a thousand bucks.  He grimaced.  But I don’t really have a choice.  Stan picked up the utensil he had been given, which was just a spork, and scooped up the bright orange mashed potatoes with dark red gravy.  He hesitantly took a bite.  His eyes widened.  The “potatoes” tasted like caramelized onions, while the “gravy” had a strong beefy yet cheesy flavor.  It combined to form something Stan recognized.  This tastes just like French onion soup!  What the hell?

              The first bite was enough to awaken Stan’s stomach.  His hunger now roaring and curiosity about the food piqued, Stan quickly scarfed down everything on his plate.  To his delight and confusion, all the food was delicious and most of it tasted like something he’d had on Earth.

              “I knew the mashed rom would be a winner,” the alien mom remarked as she watched Stan inhale his food.  “It is my mother’s favorite.”  Other than that, the alien family left Stan alone during the meal, talking amongst themselves instead of trying to pull Stan into the conversation.

              Under most circumstances, I’d be offended.  But I’m honestly just relieved.  I don’t want to talk to these guys.  Stan looked at the alien boy and girl, the closest things he had to peers on the ship.  The alien boy noticed and nodded silently at Stan before turning back to his sister.  Not right now, at least.  I need some space to deal with all this.

              Stan finished his first serving, as well as his second and third, before he was satiated.  Now that the growling in his stomach had been resolved, a new and urgent need made itself known.  Stan crossed his legs and cleared his throat, drawing the attention of the alien family.

              “Do you need something, Stan?” the alien dad asked.

              “Uh, yeah.  Where’s your bathroom?” Stan asked.  The aliens all cocked their heads curiously.

              “Do you need to bathe?” the alien mom asked.

              “I mean, eventually, but not right now.”

              “Try a different word,” the alien dad suggested.  “Often, the translators work literally, and turns of phrase or odd terminology are translated incorrectly.”

              “Um.  The restroom?” Stan tried.  The alien boy frowned.

              “You mean your bedroom?” he asked.

              “No!  I- ugh.”  Stan sighed.

              I was trying to be polite.  I don’t want to put my foot in my mouth like I usually do.  But polite clearly isn’t working.

              “I need to take a piss,” Stan blurted out.  The aliens all blinked.

              “Oh!” the alien boy said.  “You are asking for the toilet.”

              “Yes.”

              “I will show you the way.”  The boy alien got up from the table.  His sister scowled at him.  “What?”

              “You offered just to get out of cleaning the dishes,” the alien girl said, crossing her arms.

              “No, I did not!  I-”

              “Neither of you are going to get out of any chores,” the alien mom said.  “Your father can help Stan.”  The alien kids groaned but began to clear the table.  The alien dad and Stan both stood.

              “Follow me,” the alien dad instructed.  Stan followed the alien dad out of the dining area/kitchen and back into the same hall that he had been through before.  “Luckily, your room is next to one of the- what did you call it?”

              “Um, a bathroom?”

              “An interesting name, given the baths are elsewhere,” the alien dad murmured.

              “On Earth they’re in the same room.”

              “Odd.  Regardless, your room is next to one of the…bathrooms on the ship.  The room that actually has the baths, however, is past the eating area.  Will you need to bathe before going to sleep?”

              It’s been a while since I had a bath that wasn’t just baby wipes…

              “Uh, yeah.”

              “I will send my son to fetch you from your room after he and his sister have completed their chores.”  They arrived in front of yet another circular door.  Like the previous doors Stan had seen on the ship, the alien dad placed his hand on the door, causing it to light up purple, then blue, then finally descend into the floor.  Before Stan could step into the bathroom, the alien dad spoke again.  “I must apologize again for the circumstances under which you came into our lives.  Rest assured, we will do our best to make you feel comfortable, perhaps even like one of the family.”

              “…Sure.”

              “If not family, then at least friends,” the alien dad said.  Stan nodded.

              “That feels more likely.”

              “Then that shall be our goal!” the alien dad said jovially.  He smiled as warmly as he could with his nightmarish teeth.  “I will be leaving an item you can use to entertain yourself in your room.  Please let me know if you would prefer something else.”

              “…Sounds good,” Stan mumbled.  The alien dad walked away.  Stan entered the bathroom, the door closing behind him.

              After using the toilet – which was thankfully very Earthlike in design – and struggling with the door a bit, Stan left the bathroom.  Now that he had figured out the trick to opening the doors, he entered his bedroom without any issue.  There was something placed on the desk in front of the massive window.  Stan walked over to it and picked it up.  His eyes widened.  It was a sketchbook.  A small box of writing utensils that looked similar to crayons had been set beside the sketchbook.

              I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t this.  Stan walked up to the window.  He stared out silently for a few moments.  Off in the distance, he could make out some asteroids.  Stan walked back to the desk.  He sat down, picked up one of the weird space crayons, and set the tip to the paper.  The lines were jagged at first, as he got used to the alien writing implement.  But eventually, a rough sketch of the asteroids formed.  Stan sat back with a small smile on his face.

              This, though, I can work with.

#I love this AU so much it's one of my faves and imo one of my most original ones #if people are curious I will share what particular exchange appeared in my head like a heavenly gift #Accidental Abduction AU #Stanley Pines #Angie McGucket #Pa McGucket #Ma McGucket #Lute McGucket #McGucket Family #my writing #my stuff #speecher speaks

[eregyrn-falls-art]

And here it is at last! The Gravity Falls Multi-Artist Lyric Comic tribute to the Stan Twins, "Trouble"!

Stay tuned, as @stariousfalls is working on making all of this into a video version. That will be coming along in the next few weeks!

EDIT: here is the video!

And of course, Happy Birthday to Dipper and Mabel! (Even if this project was Grunkles-centric, Stan and Ford's stories wouldn't have come to such a heart-warming resolution if it wasn't for their niblings. Credit where it's due!)

Some credits and acknowledgements below the read-more:

(I'll have remarks and thanks in another post; but for now, thank you SO MUCH TO EVERYONE who worked on this and made it spectacular!)

CREDITS:

Polaroid Collage One: elishevart, zephrunsimperium, pinkplatiploo, mother-ofthe-universedraws, fordtato, shadeartstuff, creativepup, skysdrawings

I've been a beggar: lemonfodrizzleart

And I've been a king: kingsofjersey

I've been a loner: muria-art

And I've worn the ring: everlight_283 (instagram)

Losing myself: batman-gif

Just to find me again: tazmiilly & gin-juice-tonic

I'm a million miles smarter: eregyrn-falls-art & stephreynaart

But I ain't learned a thing: annakitsun3

I've been a teacher: gobblewanker

And a student of hurt: skysdrawings

I kept my word: orangephoenix6

For whatever that's worth: mother-ofthe-universedraws

Never been last: jackyjackdraws

But I've never been first: jasmine-sketchbook

Oh I may not be the best: stephreynaart

But I'm far from the worst: spectralreplica

Oh I may not be the best: elishevart

But I'm far from the worst: zkyeline

Oh, I've seen trouble: fexiled / fexalted

More than any man should bear: mischieflily

But I've seen enough joy: ginandshattereddreams

I've had more than my share: gin-juice-tonic

And I'm still not done: morcian-draws

I'm only halfway there: jamesfenimoreharper

I'm a million miles ahead of where I'm from: fordtato

But there's still another million miles to come: deerpines, orangephoenix6 & fordtato

Polaroid Collage Two: creativepup, cbmagus49, inkdrawndreamer, bluefrostyy, mother-ofthe-universedraws, fordtato, bewildred-grimsley, shadeartstuff, alphazed

Oh I keep on searching for the City of Gold: vililae

So I'm gonna follow this yellow brick road: cbmagus49

Thinking that maybe it might lead me on: cutebatart

I'm a million miles farther: hellmandraws

And a long way from home: eregyrn-falls-art

I know that there's a plan that goes way beyond mine: possumbreath

Got to step back just to see the design: pottersfieldcustodian

The mind fears the heart: rechoclo

But the heart doesn't mind: novantinuum

Oh I may not be perfect: tazmiilly

But I'm loving this life: hubbabubbagumpop

Oh I may not be perfect: athgalla-arts

But I'm loving this life: thisiswhereidraw

Oh I've seen trouble: purblzart

More than any man should bear: shadowofaghost5

But I've seen enough joy: alextwdgf01 & fordtato

I've had more than my share: dragonsheepstudios

And I'm still not done: acetyzias & stephreynaart

I'm only halfway there: cryptidjeepers

I'm a million miles ahead of where I'm from: chiiroptereh

But there's still another million miles to come: stephreynaart

Polaroids Collage Three: cbmagus49; fordsy; fordtato; puppylove24680; sciencevillain; lemonfodrizzleart; mother-ofthe-universedraws; possumbreath

Polaroids Collage Four: jamesfenimoreharper; gin-juice-tonic; rusted-blue; shadowofaghost5; cutebatart; possumbreath; fordtato; nour386

Polaroids Collage Five: fordtato; pinestwinssimp; tazmiillly; melodramaticwolf; eregyrn-falls-art

#gravity falls #lyric comics #stanford pines #stanley pines #mabel pines #dipper pines #soos ramirez #wendy corduroy #fiddleford mcgucket #ma pines #filbrick pines #carla mccorkle #teen Stans #smol Stans #sea grunks! #mullet Stan #portal Ford #my art #tate mcgucket #trouble lyric comic

[commehter]

Palms and Fingers, Calluses and Scars - Gravity Falls Fanfic

Rating: General Genre: Slice of Life Pairings: None Characters: Ford, Ma, Shermie, Crampelter, Stan, Filbrick, Carla, Fiddleford, Bill Summary: He pays attention to people's hands. How could he not, when everyone else always pays so much attention to his? He'd learned at a young age how to read a person, not by their face or the lilt of their voice, but by the way they used their hands. The types of calluses and scars that formed with different kinds of work. The manner in which a person reached out to interact with the world around them. You could learn a lot by studying a person's hands.

~.~.~.~.~

Ma's hands were slim and gentle. Her hands were constantly in motion: twisting the cord of her telephone around her fingers, mapping out his palms with her thumbs, and the staccato 'clack-clack-clack-clack' of her fake nails as she thinks. These are hands that have held him when he was small, wiped away young tears, and bandaged skinned knees. These are hands that have ruffled his hair, pinched his cheeks, and tucked him in at night. These are hands that have loved him through his childhood.

"Your hands mark you as special, Fordy. Just you wait and see."

~.~.~.~.~

Shermie's hands were of average size and skill. They were normal to the point of being boring. Unless one took the time to look closer. A thin, pale scar runs down the outside of the man's right hand, marking him as a member of his mother's family line. These are hands that have tickled him until he was breathless and held him suspended in the air by his ankles. These are hands that have noogied him into submission and pulled books down from tall shelves for him. These are hands that have steadied him as he'd grown from a child into a young adult.

"I just realized my baby brother has the world's best finger-calculator. Huh. That would have made first grade a bit easier."

~.~.~.~.~

You can read the final 6 sections on AO3.

One-Shot

971 Words

Posted 03/20/2018

Happy reading!

#fanfiction #fanfic #commehterfic #archive of our own #ao3 #gravity falls #a tale of two stans #preseries #ford pines #ma pines #shermie pines #crampelter #stan pines #stan twins #filbrick pines #carla mccorkle #fiddleford mcgucket #bill cipher #wherein filbrick is human #hands #sliceoflife

[callipraxia]

The Unexpected Memoirs of Fiddleford H. McGucket: Chapter Two

Continuing from where we left off in Part I - have a Part II. The typographical errors in the first section are deliberate, reflecting Our Hero's confusion and alarm while writing it. "Denken mit der Hand" is German for "thinking with the hand," which is the slogan of Leuchtturn1917 notebooks, which are rather nice notebooks; I wrote the vast majority of FWJB in three of them I got on a really good sale once, so just a little shout-out there.

Again, the Prologue and Chapter One can be viewed here. That said, on with the...tale? As before, warnings for references to Fiddleford's OCD, and this time for very mild reference to the existence of sex.

Chapter Two

[A page of the manuscript is creased and stained, letters blurred in places from being handled before the ink dried fully. After the sentence “Stanford? Is that really you?” there is a meaningless series of keystrokes, ‘wekaqothwo[eknf[oaqnwooooejf,’ followed by heavy presence of scribbling, seemingly to conceal a mix of typed and handwritten text. Visible through these marks are variations on the word ‘no’ in different sizes and multiple repetitions of the statements ‘what did I say,’ ‘why,’ ‘I know what I know,’ ‘I’m sorry,’ and ‘God help me’ before meaningful content resumes near the bottom of the page]

Icol I couldn

It’s been a few days since i last worked on myremembering, and I spent them hiding out wherever I could. Couldnt stay still couldn’t rest anywhere not after what I wrote and how it just came into my head.

Stanford.

I suppose there could be two people who both cross paths with me, and they’re both named Stanford, and it’s their first name both times – but I can’t tell, because my brain is playing tricks on me. It has got to be my brain playing tricks on me, but as soon as I typed it, all at once – suddenly, I could see him like he was in front of me – this person I am remembering now, my Friend - in my head, and sure enough, he looked plenty like -

I know it’s insane. It’s got to be. My mind playing tricks on me. I don’t know the man personal or anything, but everybody around here knows all about Stan Pines. People are almost as sorry to see him coming as they are to see me! And, of course, we can’t go forgetting that time he smashed a baseball bat over my head. Though I was peering in the man’s windows at the time.

Why? Doesn’t make any sense. But then, what about my life has made sense in a long time? It seemed like I needed to keep an eye on him, so I did, at least until he knocked me upside the head and let me know he’d decapitate me with the same instrument the next time he found me lurking – though as I recall, he used a much longer sentence which contained a number of elegant terms and descriptions to embellish that idea, all of which I’d rather not repeat, as they were the kinds of things that do not look nice in print.

Because that’s just how Stan Pines is. He’s a big loud carnival man. No subtlety. He comes up with funny stories but he is not going to do the things I half-rememberst he things I have done, that we did, whatever they were. I’m just surprised he don’t chase me off from around the M.S. more often – cause I go there, and it’s like I know what’s real and what ain’t, at least as long as I stay in certain rooms, and I have no business going in the other rooms anyway. One time I did turn the wrong way and somehow end up in Stan’s kitchen and I pulled all the hair I had out and got started on my beard, just trying to get out of there, didn’t want to be in the kitchen, don’t like the kitchen, I was going to leave and then it was like nothing had ever happened and I didn’t know if it really happened did anything happen who wasn’t there I dont rememmbener

It isn’t possible. This person I remember – he can’t be Stan Pines. Stan Pines can’t be him. Something is wrong. I don’t know much to do about it but keep typing, though, and just use Stan’s name until I can think of something that makes more sense, because I can’t remember nothing just thinking about it in my brain like that’s any good. My brain’s no good. Side effects. Scars. Neuroplasticity. But when I just stop thinking and types, then the words just comes, the pictures in my head, the memories….Denken mit der Hand. The fingertips, anyway. It helps.

It isn’t possible. I didn’t work with no Stan Pines, and the Stan Pines I know of ain’t – what? A monster? A hallucination? He ain’t! He’s a real person and I am not going to do anything to him because that would be morally wrong. He exists and has nothing to do with me or monsters or whate ver happened. I’ll just use his name, though, as long as my hands wants to, and maybe figure it out when I can I don’t know what else I can do.

* * * * * * * *

“So lemme get this straight,” said Emma-May, putting the two plates in her hands down in front of each of us before she sat down on her chair at the table. “Some fella you haven’t seen since you were in college and haven’t heard from at all in years just...called you up out of a clear blue sky today, and he did this to offer you a job. Of being his assistant. Building what sounds like something out of Star Trail, and which even you say you wouldn’t have called more than mathematically possible before he said he was actually doing it. Does that pretty much cover it?”

Put that way, I had to admit, it did sound pretty absurd. Definitely way more absurd, anyway, than it had when I’d been the one saying it, and far, far crazier than when Stanford had pitched the idea to me.

“Pretty much, yep,” I said.

“And this genius recluse friend of yours wants you to come up north for months to work on this - and therefore for you go to for months at a time presumably never so much as laying eyes on me or your son?”

I glanced at the son in question. Tater, though, was occupied with cutting his green beans into smaller and smaller pieces and then arranging these pieces into patterns with the tip of his fork, and he did not seem to even notice me. I wondered if he’d even heard what his mama had said. I’d been...peculiar, as a child, no doubt about that, but even I thought Tate spent an awful lot of time seemingly lost in his own little world, busy with who knew what…

“Nobody ever said anything about any of us not seeing anybody else for no months at a time,” said I. “I reckon I can could visit onna weekends..." I considered what I remembered of Stanford's work habits. "Or at least the mail holidays," I prevaricated. "And maybe when school goes on break, you and Tater could come up to Oregon and see me a while. It would do the boy good to get some fresh air, I bet, and everybody who doesn’t already - “ by which, in theory, I meant Emma-May and Stanford – “could get to know each other.”

Emma-May cut her pork chop with deliberate, precise movements. “I’m not sure what good that would do me,” she said, “given how bad this man seems to be at keeping in touch with his so-called best friends. Dropping them for years and then calling ‘em up again only when it’s to his benefit.”

She said that with the same edge to her voice she had had when she was talking about how absurd the whole thing was, and I realized it wasn’t me she was mad at. Well, not entirely me, anyway. Probably to some degree me, being so impractical and all, but it seemed that some of her disapproval might be rooted in some kind of indignation on my behalf.

“Now, Emmy,” I said. “Don’t be like that.” I sighed and shook my head. “Truth be told, honey – until today, I’d half-figured that he was dead – we never talked much after college, long-distance charges, you know, but it was only two years ago he quit writing back if I sent him something now and then. I..." was too much of a coward to find out for sure. "I'm just glad nothing happened, apparently. I suppose genius must have its quirks.”

Emma-May’s mouth tightened up a bit, and I couldn’t tell if it was in annoyance or amusement as she looked back and forth between me and the boy for a moment. “I’ve noticed,” she said. “But you’ve always been able to get enough of a grip on yours, Fids, to do right by people regardless, so I don’t see why you’d excuse someone else for just dropping you for however many years without so much as a word. Much less that you’d do that and then - “

But she didn’t finish her sentence, just shaking her head as she cut her meat again. I frowned at her across the table.

“And then what?” I asked.

“When you were talking about him, trying to sell me on whatever craziness this is,” she said slowly, after another moment. “Your voice changed.”

I continued to frown, even more puzzled than I had been before. “It did? Like what?”

“Like it does when you’re trying to explain what’s so interesting about some dead British lady with a silly name who never even built a real computer, but somehow, she’s really important if you care anything about computers -.”

“You mean Ada Lovelace?” I considered this idea for a moment. “Hm. Well, I suppose Stanford is a brilliant theoretical thinker - “

“He must have been thinking of something mighty brilliant, to pull all this out of nowhere after two years in the middle of nowhere,” she said.

I put my fork down. “Your voice changed just now, Em,” said I. “And I know I’m not any good at telling, but to me, it sounded about half-like you thought I was lying about something, and you wanted me to know you thought it, but I’ve got no idea why you’d think that.”

“Lyin’ is bad,” announced Tate. He never looked up from the green beans, which were now shredded to a scale so small that it was hard to tell what they’d originally been.

“That’s right, it is,” said Emma-May. “And so is playing with your food, Tate. Eat your beans.”

“Waste not, want not,” I added sanctimoniously, not knowing what a hypocrite I was ultimately going to turn out to be.

Still, though – I hope my son took the lesson to heart, and not just because I had dallied with the environmental movement back in my day. It’s because my life has been a perfect example of what that saying means, one of the best I think I know of. What I wasted, after all, was the one thing you can’t ever make more of – that is to say, time. So much time – so many opportunities to be with my wife, with my son – to have any kind of life worth living. Wasted and wasted, and now I sit here, wanting and wanting, with no way to ever address the problem.

* * * * * * * *

“You really do want to do it, don’t you?” asked Emma-May.

We had dropped the subject of Stanford and his sudden offer at the table after we'd turned to the task of getting Tate to eat, and we had not picked it up again after supper. Now, it had been several hours, other subjects had been discussed since, and we had gone to bed, but I knew at once what she meant.

“I’d be lying if I said no,” I told her. Then, as she remained silent, I added, “I know how crazy it’s got to all sound to you, Em, but that’s just because you don’t know Stanford. You don’t know what he’s capable of. And if we’re working on the same thing...what he's suggestin' now...I don’t even know what we might be capable of together.” I felt strangely as if I was a little short of breath, though I was not, at the thought, and clenched a knot of sheets in my hands to keep them busy, to keep them from going toward my head. What I was feeling – it was enough like the nervousness that I sort of wanted to pull my hair, but it wasn’t the same. The mere fact I could control it proved that. But -

“And anyway – let's say you're right for a minute,” I conceded. I didn’t believe it – I don’t think I could have believed it, not then – but I’d learned that sometimes you had to entertain an odd notion to have a conversation with somebody. “But even if you are – if he really has just lost his mind – then I still...I’d still feel like I ought to go and find out for sure, anyway, you know? And try to help him, if I can.”

“And right there’s where I start having a problem with all this,” said Emma-May. She turned onto her side and propped herself up on one elbow to look at me. The moon was full that night; between that and the indirect glow of the nearest streetlight, coming into our room between the blinds, we could see each other clearly, if only in shades of grey. Shadows lurked under her cheekbones and chin, and the gloom left the glints that were her eyes looking strangely decontextualized. “That’s what I was trying to say at supper. If this man - “ that was the only thing I can ever recall hearing her call him, though I don’t know why – “is someone who’s this important to you – then why don’t I already know him, Fiddleford? Why have I never even heard you mention his name before? Why did he just – drop you for all these years, and why he’s picking you back up now? And why are you even willing to speak to somebody who treats you like that? Much less drop your whole life and go work for him in the middle of nowhere? I’ve never even heard of that town you mentioned – what didja say it was?”

“Gravity Falls,” I said. “Weird name isn’t it? But I guess it suits for somewhere to make a good physics breakthrough.”

“Sounds like a paradox to me,” she said. “Gravity don’t fall, it pushes everything else down under itself. It always ends up at the top, I reckon, if you think about it...what’re you grinning at?” she added, her eyes narrowing as she looked down into my face.

“At you bein’ so particular,” I said. I put up one hand to her face, allowing my thumb to trace the round line of her cheek. In the dark, her hair looked like the void of space as it fell on her neck and over my hand, endlessly dark, only sparsely speckled with the faintest of dying stars wherever the light hit it so as it moved. I could barely stay in a room with her for a day or two whenever she had her permanents put in, but it had been weeks since her last one, and so there was nothing more disturbing in the air than the androgynous, nondescript - though not unpleasant - smell of Pantene Pro-V, now. My hand came to rest on her shoulder, which was bare besides the thin, silky strap on her nightgown. “Come here,” I added, pulling her toward me as I moved to kiss her.

“You didn’t answer none of my questions, Fiddleford,” she said, her voice only just loud enough for me to hear.

“Shh,” I whispered back to her. Her fingers were locked together at the base of my skull; am I imagining it now, with the advantage of hindsight, or did I think, even then, that her grip was harsher than usual, as though she was trying to keep me from slipping away? “We’ll talk about it later,” I added before starting to kiss her neck.

But we didn’t – and if I had been being honest, either with her or myself, I’d have never said that we would. Wasn’t as if we didn’t know better, after all – not like it wasn’t a long, long day’s walk away from the first time I’d ever used sex to distract her from some conversation I didn’t want to have. Instead of trying to answer her questions, for her or even for myself, I lied to the both of us that night and avoided meeting her eyes all I could the next morning as she and Tater got ready to go out for the day. Once they were gone, I went into my workshop and sat down there, barely moving or thinking, even, as the morning crept by. Finally, at precisely 1:30 in the afternoon, the phone rang.

“Hello?” I said as I picked it up, as levelly as I could. “Fiddleford Computermajigs.”

“Uh – it’s Stanford again.”

“I figured,” I said. “Just gotta say the same thing on the work line all the time, though, just in case it ain’t.”

“Huh. Yes, well. I’m sure you know better than I do about...that sort of thing.” I smiled to myself, picturing the look I imagined was on his face as he said that. I wasn’t much of a businessman, but by comparison, I might as well have been the Mister Congeniality of Wall Street. If we did become rich and famous, I reckoned I was going to have to be the face of the operation, pitiable of a condition though this was for the operation in question. “So. What’s the verdict?”

Straight to the point. It seems to me now that I should have realized there was something...off, in that. Stanford had always been the type to prevaricate about asking anybody for anything, talking the problem the long way around the barn and making up all sorts of paper-thin rationalizations, and he wasn’t known for his brevity even outside of awkward situations of that sort. It took him two paragraphs to say what it would’ve taken most people one sentence to sum up, or at least, that was what it had often done before. Now, though…Nothing. Just business.

“I can’t just walk outta my house on a Wednesday without a word to anybody,” I said. “I got client orders to finish up, bills to collect on, and I got a wife and a little boy here….” Stanford said nothing and I sighed. “My life, I can’t just...up and do whatever I want without no warnin’, Stanford. We aint’ kids anymore, you know...but if you give me another week,” I added, with a feeling of doing something wrong and yet utterly inevitable, “give me that and then...I reckon I’m in.”

* * * * * * * *

Maybe what happened next was why I didn’t notice anything odd about what had come before, because getting off the phone sure didn’t end up being nearly as easy of a task as getting onto it had been. It was like, with two words, I’d flipped a switch, and there was the Ford I’d knew – he could always talk your ear off when he got excited about something, sure enough, and his thanks for my agreement were so exuberant, and the praises heaped onto my mechanical genius so exorbitant, that I probably ended up spending a good hour just protesting or pointing out areas where I felt he’d sold himself short – something which would then set him off again on my excellence, and without any of our other old friends around to holler for us to get a room already, we did make us quite the mutual admiration society! And that was even before Ford started telling me more about what work he’d already done on this thingummajig, and way, way before we ever started swapping ideas, bouncing off each other, picking up where we’d left off as though it hadn’t been five minutes since we’d last seen each other….

Oh, how we went on. It lasted for hours, that first real conversation we had, and I won’t lie and say I wasn’t having a ball most of the time, though I noticed even then that there was something about Stanford’s voice which just seemed odd that day. It had a strange, rusty note to it, and that combined with the way he had to clear his throat more and more often as the hours went on by gave the curious impression that (as I would soon learn was in fact the case) he hadn’t spoken for a long time. What I noticed and decided to just ignore, though, without even thinking through "I'm gonna ignore this - "

Like, for instance, there was this moment where he got to describing something in the plans he had made and let slip that he didn’t quite understand it. Why, I wonder now, didn’t I tell him to hang on a dad-gum minute, right then and there? Why didn’t I ask him, Stanford, old buddy, old pal, how did you write or draw it all down if you don’t understand what it is and how it works? If you need me to explain it to you? Or, a little later, when he cleared his throat for about the hundredth time and then said that this was the best conversation he’d had out loud in years – why did I not raise an eyebrow right then and ask, buddy, how in the world else have you been having conversations if not out loud? What’s that even supposed to mean?

Maybe I just can’t see him very straight – 'him' being who I was back then, I mean, not Stanford. Can’t even get my mind – what’s left of it – around someone being as innocent and stupid as that more-than-thirty-year-old man who sat there in that garage in Palo Alto that day. Or maybe it’s just that I was already thinking something that Stanford ended up saying out loud, later on. We had gotten off on a tangent about the old days (Em walked in during that conversation, I recall; she must have heard the racket produced when I was left temporarily helpless with laughter at some half-remembered anecdote. I looked up when Emma-May opened the door, but before I could say anything, she had already backed out of the garage again without a word), and on the other end of the line, Stanford sighed before he said something that surprised me.

“Those were good times, weren’t they?” he asked hoarsely – I doubt he was able to speak a word the next day, which I suppose made it convenient that he really did not have anybody around him to say one to. “I don’t think I’d even realized before how much I’ve missed you, Fiddleford.”

I could have asked him some questions right then. I don’t reckon there’s a snowflake’s chance in Sarasota he would have told me the truth, but it would have caught him off-guard, and he never was much of a liar. Evasion, he could do that well enough, but outright spinning a lie from nothing? Nah, I’d have known when he did it. Maybe I could have even got a clue that could have helped me put it all together a little sooner, before it was too late. Maybe I’d have started having more misgivings, ones I couldn’t deny, and maybe I’d have spent that last week at home talking myself out of going up there, instead of spending it making Em, at least, angry with my constant lack of attention to anything I was doing – a state of distraction she knew full well was just a symptom of the fire Stanford had lit up under my butt, filling my mind up with ideas and plans – enough that I was willing to brush it off as just Stanford being Stanford when he all but nailed one red flag to the mast with his insistence that I not tell anybody where I was going, or what I was doing, or who I was going to be doing it with. Even when that prohibition was extended to what I said to my own wife….

How stupid was I, anyway? I let myself reckon it was all right to keep important information from my wife. As much as it shames me to say it – I reckon I even justified it to myself. That I told myself, ah, well, Emma-May wouldn’t understand what I was talking about anyway, would she? Oh, sure, she’d been to college – but it had just been teacher college. Did that even count, really? She wasn’t any kind of genius, not somebody who could follow a conversation with the likes of us -

Of course, I reckon I did this all sub-liminal like, not realizing I was doing it, because surely I was never awful enough to just say something like that even in my own head? Not about Emma-May, anyway. Not about my own wife – my boy’s mother. Surely I wasn’t that confound arrogant and proud. The thing I remember is grinning and admitting – like the blind fool I was – “I, uh - me, too," before I cleared my throat and tried to think like a businessman. "What you were sayin', though, I think you're right about that - does sound like that project we did on the three-body problem. I reckon we could...."

#gravity falls #gravity falls fic #gravity falls fanfic #fiddleford mcgucket #emma-may mcgucket #tate mcgucket #stanford pines #set in the early eighties #new fic #first draft #fanfic update #tumblr fic

[chuckecheesekid9000]

Omniverse Falls

Story Summary:  What would happen if the Crystal Gems had settled down in a place other than Beach City, a little backwoods town just west of weird…? What if, upon coming to Gravity Falls for the summer, Mikey and his younger twin siblings, Dipper and Mabel were to befriend Steven and his two best friends, Toby and Connie? What kind of magical and mysterious adventures would they have? What if a watch-like device falls from space, attaches to Mikey, and gives him the power to transform into 10 different kinds of aliens, while trying to keep his secret from the world? And, how would they fare against the combined threats of merciless, Homeworld Gems and a certain triangular demon? Find out what happens when Magic and Mystery meet in Omniverse Falls…

Characters:

Major TLH/C: Lincoln, The Loud Sisters (Lori, Leni, Luna, Luan, Lynn, Lucy, Lana, Lola, Lisa, and Lily), Lynn Sr., Rita, Leonard, Lance, Albert, Myrtle, Ruth, Clyde, Sam, Mazzy, Sully, Benny, Maggie, Silas, Skippy, Winston, David, Ronnie Anne, Bobby, Arturo, Maria, Carlos, Frida, Carlota, The Casagrande Brothers (CJ, Carl, and Carlitos), Rosa, Hector, Danny, Lupe, Sid, Adelaide, Stanley, Becca, Harold, Howard, Scotts, Angus, Morag, Chuck, and Mick

Major MML: Bradley

Major GF: April, The Swanson Siblings (Calvin, Harriet, Hannah, Hugo, Cody, and Nina), Henry, and Laura

Major SU/AB: Steven, Toby, Connie, Garnet (Ruby/Sapphire), Amethyst, Pearl, Rose Quartz (flashbacks), Greg, Dr. Tenma, Jean, Teresa, Duncan, Elizabeth, Brian, Beverly, Bim, Bam, Luka, Lion, Lapis Lazuli, Peridot, Bismuth, Jasper, Yellow Diamond, Blue Diamond (flashbacks), Yellow Pearl, Blue Pearl (flashbacks), The Ruby Squadron (Doc, Leggy, Army, Navy, and Eyeball), Martha, Lars, Sadie, Ronaldo, Peedee, Jamie, Buck, Jenny, Kiki, Sour Cream, Mr. Fryman, Kofi Pizza, Doug, Priyanka, Aarav, Kevin, Vidalia, Yellowtail, Onion, Marty, Barb, Andy, Mark, Dogcopter, and the Off-Colors (Fluorite (Anatase/Red Pearl/Lavender Sapphire/The Peridot Trio (Head Peridot, Right Peridot, and Left Peridot), Rhodonite (Levi/Button), Padparadscha, and the Rutile Twins (Mindy and Cindy)).

Major OF/WFRR (AU): Mikey, Dipper, Mabel, Stan, Ford, Wendy, Soos, Bill Cipher, Gideon, Candy, Grenda, Gorney, Pacifica, McGucket, Waddles, Gompers, Mr. Poolcheck, Mermando, Ma, Pa, Robbie, Tamby, Thompson, Lee, Nate, Manly Dan, Caroline, The Corduroy Brothers (Marcus, Kevin, and Gus), Joellynn, Jessica, Roger, The Rabbit Kids (Zephyr and Beth), Tyler, Sheriff Blubs, Deputy Durland, Preston, Pricilla, Filbrick, Karen, Blendin, Agent Powers, Agent Trigger, Time Baby, Lazy Susan, Giffany, Abuelita, Reggie, Bud, Archibald, Nathaniel, Elizabeth, Quinten, Toby, Blind Ivan, Rumble, The Summerween Trickster, Wax Sherlock, Jeff, Shmebulock, Ducktective, Azmuth, Xeannith, Retaliator, Tetrex, Gluto, Sixsix, Kraab, Verdona, Aggregor, The Omnitrix Aliens (Goop, Four Arms, Grey Matter, Echo Echo, Upgrade, Diamondhead, NRG, Big Chill, AmpFibian, and Heatblast), The Omnitrix Unlock Aliens (Ghostfreak, Fasttrack, Feedback, and Gax), and Ra'ad

Major SP: Jack and Rebecca

Major SD: Shaggy and Scooby

Ships: Steven/Connie, Mikey/Carly, Mikey/Wendy, Shaggy/Wendy, Dipper/Wendy, Dipper/Pacifica, Bradley/Pacifica, Ruby/Sapphire, Rose/Greg, Pearl/Rose, Tenma/Jean, Nate/Jenny, Robbie/Kiki, Lars/April, Ronaldo/Sadie, Brian/Lapis, Azmuth/Xennith, Dipper/Connie, Steven/Mabel, Steven/Dipper, Amethyst/Peridot, 

Genre: Romance, Comedy, Fantasy, Drama, Angsy, Friendship, Humor, Action, Family/Hurt/Comfort, Mystery, and Sci-Fi

Rating: Dark Subjects and etc

#omniverse falls #rewrite #multi crossover

[manilafm]

Most wanted from gravity falls and the owl house, please? Thank you! And do you accept anonymous reservations?

Anonymous reserves require the first name of the character, and the last name of the character, and the FULL name of the fandom ( without nicknames or abbreviations ), and your O.O.C. alias / your O.O.C. name, but yes, we do allow anonymous reserves !! And they will last for twelve hours if sent anonymously.

And our most wanted characters from Gravity Falls are Bill Cipher, Stanley Pines, Stanford Pines, Jesus ‘Soos’ Ramírez, Grenda Grendinator, Priscilla Northwest, Pacifica Northwest, Fiddleford 'Old Man’ McGucket, Gompers The Goat, Sheriff Blubs, Deputy Durland, Tambry, Robert 'Robbie’ Valentino, Buddy 'Bud’ Gleeful, Preston Northwest, Lee, Nate, Xyler, Craz, Thompson, 'Lazy’ Susan Wentworth, Tobias 'Toby’ Determined, Sir Lord Quentin Trembley, III, Esquire, Blendin Blandin, The Time Baby, Daniel 'Manly Dan’ Corduroy, Tyler Cutebiker, Free Pizza Guy, Tate McGucket, Mr. Poolcheck, Mrs. Gleeful, Reginald, Rosanna, Shandra Jimenez, Shmipper, Smabble, Tad Strange, Mayor Eustace 'Huckabone’ Befufftlefumpter, Lolph, Dundgren, 8-Ball, Kryptos, Zanthar, Teeth, Keyhole, Hectorgon, Amorphous Shape, Pyronica, Paci-Fire, Lava Lamp Guy, Eye Bats, The Horrifying Sweaty One-Armed Monstrosity, The Creature With Eighty-Eight Different Faces, Rumble McSkirmish, Giffany, or ’.GIFfany’, Celestabellebethabelle, The clones of Dipper Pines, Ma Duskerton, Pa Duskerton, Tyrone Pines, Creggy G., Greggy C., Leggy P., Chubby Z. and Deep Chris of Sev'ral Timez, Mermando, 'Blind’ Ivan Wexler, and Darlene !!

And our most wanted characters from The Owl House are Luz Noceda, Willow Park, Boscha, Amity Blight, Odalia Blight, Amelia, Cat, Hunter / The Golden Guard, Lilith Clawthorne, Emira 'Em’ Blight, Edalyn ‘Eda’ Clawthorne, King Clawthorne, Hooty, Augustus 'Gus’ Porter, Principal Hieronymus Bump, Camila Noceda, Philip Wittebane / Emperor Belos, Kikimora, The Collector, Warden Wrath, Tibblet-Tibblie 'Tibbles’ Grimmhammer, III, Gwendolyn Clawthorne, Katya, Tinella 'Tiny Nose’ Nosa, Snaggleback, Steve, Morton, Alador Blight, Braxas, Vee / 'Number 5’, Perry Porter, Gilbert Park, Harvey Park, Captain Salty, Jean-Luc, Malphas, Amber, Derwin, Dell Clawthorne, Flora D'esplora, Masha, Professor Hermonculus, Faust, Edric 'Ed’ Blight, Matt Tholomule, Viney, Jerbo, Barcus, Skara, Eileen, Selene, Bo, Bria, Angmar, Gavin, The Bat Queen, Raine Whispers, Darius Deamonne, Eberwolf, Terra Snapdragon, Adrian Graye Vernworth, Jacob Hopkins, Bill, and Tarak !!

You’re welcome, ‘nonnie !!

#multifandom rp #fandom rp #gravity falls rp #owl house rp #disney rp #the owl house rp #animated rp #cartoon rp #animated rpg #cartoon rpg #manila:admin. #manila:M.W. #manila:F.A.Q.S. #manila:admin.georgia. #answered #anonymous #gravity falls rpg #disney channel rp #the owl house rpg #disney channel rpg #gravity falls roleplay #the owl house roleplay #disney channel roleplay #the owl house roleplay group #gravity falls roleplay group

[rosaland44]

Gravityfalls : A rewind loop summary

Set when the Stan twins were seventeen after Stanley was kicked out and Ford graduation .

It was their graduation or at least Ford’s and Stanley wasn't going to mess his brother graduation even if his brother didn't want to see him there it was okay Stanley plan was to go watch his brother graduate wearing a Hoodie or a Disguise to hide identity he will see his brother graduate from a distance without being caught and then he will leave .

That was his plan simple and easy three steps plan what he didn’t expect is while he was driving to the said graduation is his car crashing into a truck and rolling down to the bottom of a hill he was injured so badly that he expected himself to die right away .

Luckily for him ambulance has arrived while he was passed out and took him to the nearest hospital.

As for Ford at his graduation a sense of dread wash over him like there’s something wrong or something bad happened and he doesn't know what is it ? But what could possibly have gone wrong he is graduating high school and soon going to college there is nothing going wrong now right ?

The graduation went on smoothly but the feeling of dread was still there growing stronger each second he tried to push it down and have a nice graduation he didn’t know what caused that feeling until he got home with both his parents and watched the news that his father love to watch so much that he found out what was the feeling about .

There at the news was scene of horrible accident a car crashed into a truck while the reporters were trying to explain the accident his heart stopped beating when they showed the state of the car it was crushed , broken beyond Repair but what caught his eye was the sing on the car it had the name Stanlymbl on it .

But it couldn't be he couldn't believe it until the reporters said Stanley name and in his name was shown in big bold letters and where he's at which hospital he was in with that information set in front of them the pines family went to the hospital Stanley was in as fast as they can .

When they got there they asked about Stanley and which room he was in when they reached there Stanley was there lying in bed looking so close to death When the doctor responsible to watch over Stanley arrived to report them with Stanley condition shocked them and strike them at same time .

What the doctor said about Stanley is :

He is lucky that he made it that he still alive that Stanley was in a coma and there a huge chance he won't wake up and if he did he will suffer from memory loss and properly have a short _term memory for the rest of his life

#gravity falls #gf fanfiction #stanley pines #stanford pines #filbrick pines #ma pines #memory loss #short_trem memory #angest #shermie pines #fiddleford hadron mcgucket #carla mccorkle #starla

[agent-jaselin]

Next set of Merguckets, Ma (Sally) and Pa (Merle) Mcgucket!  This also brings an interesting fact about the mermaids in this au. Merfolk hatch from eggs, so they don’t have belly buttons. But Merfolk who used to be human and changed (like Stan and Ford) retain their belly buttons. You can recognize a mermaid on land by the lack of one.

@thelastspeecher and I decided that Merle thought Sally’s and other human’s belly buttons were really cute, because he’d never really seen any before, and asked if that would be a trait passed on to their guppies. Sally says no, and ends up having to explain how human reproduction works in comparison to Merfolk.  

#gravity falls #mergucket au #dulcimerle mcgucket #sally mcgucket #Ma mcgucket #pa mcgucket #my art

[stanuary]

Spark

(submitted by Quill)

It isn’t a thread, one beginning leading neatly (however tangled it may be) to one end. It’s a mechanism, built from pieces that most people would never think to fit together. (Like all Sparkwork.) * One piece is a conversation overheard, stating that madboys can only be equals if they are rivals. Stanley builds into his worldview that he is Ford’s minion, will be his chief minion. (He doesn’t tell Ford what he heard - Sixer’s got a bad habit of overthinking things and working himself up about nothing, and Stan isn’t going to risk him doing that with the nonsense thought that Stan might turn against him. It’d probably take three hours of arguing himself into a migraine before Ford admitted that Stan would never do that.) (The conversation was a hope that ‘those two Stan boys’ would be too busy destroying each other to turn on the town. Stanley does his best to rub in that he and his brother are an inseparable team, unbeatable. Each time their faces go a little greyer, a little greener, he feels a little more satisfied.) * One piece is a conversation shared, “I hate everyone calling me a freak!” said with a passion most would think too fierce for such a young boy, and Stanley redirecting his twin’s thoughts with “We’ll get out of this place and never come back!” because he knows, deep in his heart, deeper than he has the words for, that if Stanford’s breakthrough is the painful disaster that the pettyminded idiots in this town fear it will be (and push him towards) his twin will never forgive himself for it, will be wounded in a way Stanley won’t be able to heal, damaged in a way Stanley won’t be able to repair.

This piece is the keystone to everything else that happens.

* Their mother shapes two of the pieces. One is Stanley’s devotion to his twin, encouraged by her approval and whispered pride (at least his mother’s approval can be earned, even when it feels like his father’s never can; at least his mother is impressed by something he does, even if it sometimes feels like the only thing he does that impresses her is how much he gives to and for his twin). The other is shaped slowly, intentionally, quick lessons kept secret from the rest of their family, jokes and teasing that Stanley knows for teaching. “There are lies and there are lies,” his mother will say with a laugh in her voice, and: “if the truth’s only going to hurt, why say it?” she’ll murmur with a wave of her hand, and: “People see what they want to see anyway, so why not show them what they want in the first place?”

Stanley’s too busy keeping track of the bullies in their class to pay attention to the teacher, so his grades keep slipping behind Ford’s. Everyone sees him as the future madboy’s dumb strong muscle, and Stanley plays to the role with delight. (Stanley learns dishonesty. He’s an apt pupil.) * Stories of heroes and sidekicks shape another piece, wild adventures and improbable dangers that only people with the Spark could get themselves into - and out of. It’s a role that isn’t the villain, the only positive role a Spark is ever portrayed in, and Stanley embraces it as his future wholeheartedly (“The Spectacular Stan Twins! Stanford Pines and his chief minion, Stanley!”). Ford pretends to grow out of his interest in their shared dream, but Stanley knows his twin too well to think he’ll settle for being anything less than amazing, no matter how often the teachers at school try to convince him to. (Stan’s blood boils sometimes at the thought of the adults around them trying to smother his brother’s Spark just because they’re scared of it.) Stanford wants the admiration of everyone, but Stanley only needs the admiration of his twin. That’s why he’s going to be the sidekick. (He doesn’t share that information with Ford. His twin gets on this weird kick about 'fairness’ sometimes, and something in Stan’s gut tells him this would set it off.) * The half-destroyed clankship they find is a deceptive piece - a non-Spark might think it vital, but any Spark worth the name would see how easily it could be replaced by something else. It lies hidden within the false rocks some long-gone captain or crew crafted to hide it, impassible to any without the Spark of Genius. It stays hidden as they work on it over the years, toiling to learn its systems and repair them, rebuild it to be the vessel of their desires. (Stanford insists there should be two laboratories, one for each of them. Stanley agrees with the expectation that his brother will have taken over both within a week.) Stanley finds that the practical work comes easily to him. Stanford suggests when they’re young that it means Stanley’s genius will be in the mechanical field, but Stanley just laughs the thought away. Of course he’s good with mechanics, isn’t that necessary for a good minion? (He refuses to see the way Stanford looks at him when he says that, puzzled and a little concerned, with a sense that something’s wrong but none of the emotional skills to understand what.) * For their last science fair in high school, Stanford builds a perpetual motion machine. (Stanley builds a football-playing clank and laughs as his brother sighs.) The final piece is the offer - to Stanford and only Stanford - of a scholarship to West Coast Tech. Or maybe that’s the impetus, the power source. The Spark. * Stanley knows that Ma’s going to be worried (how long has it been?) but he’s too busy to care that bolt needs tightening (He knew Stanford was exaggerating how complicated those defense systerms keeping them from the interior control room were, it’d barely taken any time - it’d been so obvious -) Those old power sources were ridiculously inefficient, he was so lucky he’d had Stanford helping him invent replacements more metal, he needs more - aha! (was that part of the false rocks?) (didn’t matter, he’d needed it) these tools are amazing, he’s so glad he stole them He’ll have to leave the navigation alone, Stanford is so proud of what he’s done there - and it makes so much sense now, how was Stanley ever confused by it? - but the steering is all his, baby! they split the outer defenses between them (didn’t they?), so Stanford won’t mind if Stanley just tweaks that forcefield generator, right? Why did Stanford use such a basic wiring system? He’ll have to ask when his brother gets here OH! Stanley beams That’s what he’s been missing! His twin! * Ford clasps his hands behind his back and wishes he felt confident enough to tap his fingers together without worrying that they’d be counted. He’s so tired of everyone whispering that he must be a construct, as if polydactyly is so impossible without a Spark’s intervention. (He’s still trying not to think about the medical records he found detailing how impossible it should have been for his mother to have any children after she gave birth to Sherman.) He wishes Stan was here, to talk him up or calm him down or make him laugh, or all of those at once. He hasn’t seen Stan since he told him about this chance, words spilling out of him as he tried to explain how thrilling it was to be told he was valuable. He’d expected Stan to agree, to build him higher, but instead his brother had gone strangely blank-faced and wandered away, and he’d felt surprised and hurt and hadn’t gone after him. (He’s trying not to think that he should have.) (There are lots of things he’s trying not to think right now, about his family and his twin and his chances and himself, and Ford is really wishing Stan was here beside him right now -) The wall disintegrates. It’s impressively soundless, bricks and concrete and who-knows-what crumbling to dust, and everyone whirls and stares in horror because this must be a Spark attacking - Stanley strolls in through the dustcloud with a huge grin. And an even bigger raygun. “Hey, bro! Hope I’m not late!” He balances the raygun on his shoulder - somehow - and claps his hands twice. “Kiddo, get over here!” The football clank that he built without any voice-activation, Ford would have recognised - wait, is that what those extra circuits Stanley insists on adding to everything he makes are for? - jumps off the table and jogs over to its maker. Stanley doesn’t watch it, eyes fixed on Ford, filled with a burning glee that makes Ford oddly nostalgic (when did Stan lose that fire?). The principal puffs up his chest, steps forwards. “Stan Pines, you will -” Stan waves a hand at him dismissively. “Ah, shut up!” he orders. The principal freezes, too shocked by his insolence to say anything. Stanley takes the unintentional obedience as his due and strides over to Ford, grabbing one of his hands to tug him along. “C'mon, bro, let’s get going!”

“Going? I - Stanley -” Ford has no idea what’s going on. He stumbles a little, trying to put words to 'I’m in the middle of getting my scholarship’, but Stanley doesn’t give him a chance to. “Yeah, you gotta get to West Coast Tech in style, right? Come on, bro, I figured out that last bit of the wiring and everything, the Stan o’ War’s right there waiting for us, let’s head out!” “Us?” Ford asks weakly. “They gotta let you take your chief minion, right?” Stanley grins, repeating that old joke that Ford never found as funny as he did (of course Stanley’s not his chief minion, they’re equals!) and there’s something here, something about how Stanley’s actions seem to be a little to the left of reality, something about how compelling his view of things is, that Ford almost recognises - it’s like a formula that he almost remembers, these chemicals and this reaction means - The principal snaps out of the daze he was in, fuming at the blatant disrespect, furious at the way Stanley is ruining this (it’s as if this scholarship is a chance for the principal instead of for Ford). “You stop right there, Stan -” Stan turns to him, suddenly furious. “WHAT PART OF SHUT UP DIDN’T YOU HEAR? GET OUT OF MY WAY!” and the principal scrambles backwards with a squeak of, “Yes, Master!”

- and Ford finally realises what he’s seeing. “Let’s go!” Stanley demands, eyes feverish with the breaking through of his new Spark, and Ford should feel angry or bitter that Stan broke through first but what he does feel is a rising excitement that probably heralds his own. “Yeah,” he breathes, and the two of them run out to the clankship that Stanley finished building, their breakthroughs too obsessed with escaping to even think about revenge. * The Stan o’ War never does make it to West Coast Tech. (Stanford blames Stanley’s decision to convert it into an airship. Stanley blames the construct that shot them down. Fiddleford apologises - again - and the three of them get back to tracking down the latest monster Ford’s decided to hunt.) (Stanley stopped making fun of how many PhDs Ford collects between monster hunts after Ford coerced him into getting some of his own. “That was way easier than I thought it’d be,” he muttered after the first one, and Fiddleford and Stanford rolled their eyes at each other behind his back.) The Mystery Trio aren’t quite world-famous, but among the people who know what they do they’re widely considered the best at it. (Though what 'it’ is tends to vary.) “So, where to next, Sixer?” “Funny you should ask! I’ve just received coordinates for a fascinating settlement. A small town, apparently. Highest known concentration of non-Spark-related oddities in the country.” “It got a name?” “Gravity Falls.”

((Girl Genius fusion for week four, Prompts Science and Technology - Quill))

#stanley pines #stanford pines #ma pines #fiddleford mcgucket #fic #stanuary 2020 #submission

[novantinuum]

Together in Wanting

Read on AO3, comments and kudos there appreciated

Fandom: Gravity Falls

Rating: T

Words: 2700~

Pairings: Fiddauthor

Story Summary: Ford overanalyzes every aspect of his strengthening crush on his roommate, and Fiddleford finally makes a move. (Content warning for some brief internalized homophobia.)

Very much inspired by an early RP with @the-ill-doctor, and my personal envisioning of how Ford and Fiddleford initially got together in our RP stuff. No context of that is needed to enjoy this, though. :D 

It only took the better part of a semester for thoughts of Fiddleford to become hopelessly and inseparably entangled within his mind. Like a single, minuscule spot of ink spilled on thick parchment— the property of capillarity pulling it through each and every layer, pigment spreading so deep one might never hope to separate the two again— whatever bewitching influence the man had unknowingly cast on him had grown and grown and created...

He shifted restlessly under his sheets, stealing away what were likely the last possible shreds of warmth his ratty bedding had to offer.  

Well...

It certainly created something new, Ford thought, anxiety buzzing deep through his bones. Something that wasn’t supposed to happen, not to him, not here. And yet, ignoring every hesitant voice that echoed at his peripherals instructing— no, demanding— that he come to his senses least trouble find him, something beautiful. Truth be told, he’d never experienced anything like this before, this... level of inexplicable attachment to another person. It was as intoxicating as it was infuriating. Here he stood, bottom of the pecking order— a college freshman, and one who didn’t have a lick of spare time to dedicate to paltry, fanciful matters such as these— and he just had to choose to be sweet on his own one-and-a-half-year older roommate!

Well, not that he had any choice in the matter. If it were up to choice, he’d probably have jumped ship that fated day he noticed all his thought patterns inevitably looping back around to that warm hearted, gregarious, confidence-for-miles southern genius. With every nervous flutter he felt within, it was almost maddening. Almost, if not for the payoff he received whenever he responded to his puns with an even dorkier one (Hey Fidds, what kind of ghosts haunt the chemistry lab? Methylated spirits) and his roommate’s laugh rang out loud and free.

Dear god, he loved the sound of his laugh. The breathy twang of his voice as he sang along with his banjo, as off key as it was. Hah, and to think he once scorned all of Fiddleford’s southern quirks...! What changed his mind? What became different in the four months they’d coexisted together, since that first day when Ford foolishly almost wrote him off as a brainless southern hick?

Oh, he remembered that day so vividly he could nearly recount the exact emotions that filtered through his being at every turn. When he first met Fiddleford Hadron McGucket, he hated him. He was utterly furious, because he was so low strung about everything, and so folksy, and taking up space in what was supposed to be his single dorm, his sanctuary from the rest of the world, but thanks to a housing mishap became sanctuary to two. He fell right into the insidious trap of judging him by mere appearance, right into blatant hypocrisy. The guilt he still felt for that was palpable, pressing down upon him like lead. Hopefully one day he’d find the right moment to apologize.

Still, it was all too unimaginable.

How could he possibly have known then what he knew now? That he’d fudge his first set of final exams and receive a few A minuses because he, Stanford F. Pines, couldn’t stop thinking about a man? Or that he’d be friends with him to begin with, after bemoaning over him ceaselessly to Ma that first week on the phone? What if he explored this the way he would with one of his experiments, conducted an unbiased scientific query focused on the origin of human romantic interactions within the temporal lobe of the brain? Could he ever pinpoint the moment, the precise variable, that sent that first ripple of nervous energy through his chest? Was it the day Fidds commented on a sketch of his DD&MD character and called them ruggedly handsome, not knowing that Ford based this elven sorcerer on himself? (Or did he know??) Maybe it was the first time he casually rest a hand on his shoulder— an action likely as natural as anything to someone from the tactile South, but entirely foreign to him. Or perhaps it was when they found a common interest in tinkering and stayed up until three am building an alarm clock Rube Goldberg would be proud of out of a busted toaster, some notebook spirals they salvaged from the trash, and an oven mitt?

How many hypotheses could he forge?

He shivered in the bitter January chill, his blankets no longer appropriate protection from the elements. He tilt his neck to catch a glimpse of his roommate, eyes squeezed closed and breathing evenly in the bed across the small dorm. The distance between them was only a few feet at most, but it might as well have been impenetrable. Ford sighed wearily, laying limp on his back, as if the weight of a loss he hadn’t yet experienced had already settled upon him.

Who was he kidding? All these thoughts he’d let enrapture his mind, these idle fantasies of what could be? Foolish. Shameful, that deep, terrified part of him whispered. For a number of reasons.

Reason one, his subconscious monotonously supplied once again. Reason one is that you’re not here at this dead-end school to entangle yourself in the lives of others. You’re here to prove your worth to your family and to academia, however you can. Reason two. He’s your roommate for the rest of the year. If you make a move, and you botch this up, life will become painfully difficult.

Reason three.

Reason three was most of his worries, and why he still hesitated to make any sort of advances. He already knew Fiddleford was... well, queer, as many of the man’s friends oft referred to themselves. But Ford? He wasn’t sure if... he never... How would he even...

True, he never felt any strong inclination towards the so-called ‘fairer sex’ as a kid. Even whatever throwaway crush he had on Cathy Crenshaw in the second grade seemed more manufactured than real, since every facet of society he’d encountered aimed to press upon him the concept of man and woman, groom and wife. But if he’d never experienced anything... romantically... inclined in the first place, then how on earth can he know for sure if that’s what this is? In the end, however, he supposed it wouldn’t be changing much about the way people saw him either way. He was already a poor, Jewish Jersey kid from a mixed family with a rare genetic mutation, why the hell not add ‘gay’ to the mix?

The minutes ticked on into endless oblivion, the only noticeable sound except for the low wind whistling at their window and the drunk laughter of those rowdy frat boys a few doors down. He nestled even further under his blankets, settling so they pulled all the way up to his chin.

He desperately wished he were braver. Truth be told, even if he could amass the courage, he didn’t know if Fiddleford would be interested. Again, his roommate was one and a half years older. They were both adults, sure, but was that still too weird? Would it be a deal breaker? At the very least, he counted himself forever lucky to have him as a friend and confidant, no matter what happened (or didn’t happen) between them. No matter what doubts assailed his thoughts, he would cherish each second he could get with him: Those few stolen moments on campus where Fidds would find him after class and they’d circle around the quad talking about DD&MD or the Apollo missions or that new academic journal on string theory Ford recently found for what felt like hours. Unique instances like last Friday, when they grabbed a bite to eat off campus together at Fidds’ impromptu request. Lazy evenings spent in the dorm not doing anything in particular, just progressing on coursework or personal projects, but always in each other’s welcomed company. Every bit of winter break, when Fiddleford kindly invited him to stay with his family in Tennessee so he didn’t have to hole up in the frigid dorms or return home.

He couldn’t help the hopeless, stupid smile that teased at his lips, his cheeks almost hurting from how wide it ran. See, and this was precisely why his feelings for Fiddleford couldn’t be downplayed as mere friendship or camaraderie! He never got this way thinking about his other DD&MD mates. Still, it was late, he was cold... letting his mind replay the same broken record all night long wouldn’t do him any favors. He yawned, and curled up to conserve as much body heat as possible.

“You still up?” a voice whispered softly from across the dorm.

He froze into a panic. All this time, Fiddleford wasn’t asleep?? Shit, shit, he didn’t notice him staring dazedly at his side of the room the whole time, did he?

“Yeah,” he replied on automatic, instantly regretting not pretending to be deep in slumber.

Fidds turned in his bed so they faced each other, head propped up on his pillow. “It sure is cold, huh.”

“It, ah... It sure is."

“An’ my blanket ain’t helping.”

“Uh, I- I could check if I have an extra?”

He didn’t. But oh, for Fiddleford, he wished he did.

“Y’know... with all that ice outside,” he drawled, “maybe we oughta work together to conserve heat. Mind if I... bunk with you, for the night?”

Never in his life had he been more grateful that he had the freedom to hide his blushing face under the covers. Jesus, Stanford, don’t go falling to pieces just yet.

“Bunk wi- with me?”

“Sure! I reckon that way, we can combine all our bedding and hopefully not freeze ta’ icicles in the middle of night.”

The unexpected proposal left his mind flooded with nothing but formless static, wholly undecided in its path. He... why would... What if they...

“Of course, only if you’re comfortable,” Fiddleford added quickly, and he knew he’d have to give a coherent response soon least he risk coming off as rude.

“I am!” he blurted out. “I mean, I- I’m not opposed. To the idea of it, to us, uh... yes.”

Nailed it.

His roommate grinned. “Be right over, then!”

He watched with a tumultuous mixture of dumbfounded shock (that such a proposition had ever occurred) and eager anticipation (that he would ever want to share a bed in the first place) as the man eagerly bundled up blankets in his arms and traversed across the room to him. While Fidds was taking care of that, he pulled back the corner of his comforter in preparation, as well as scooting himself clear to the wall. Gotta allow him as much space as possible, just in case his reasons for bed sharing weren’t the same as Ford’s reasons for his hands shaking like a leaf in sheer nervousness. Thank goodness he could excuse that away as the bite of the cold.

Fiddleford threw his blankets over the twin sized mattress, and true to form there was an instant increase in warmth. To think he’d nearly forgotten what such comfort felt like! After tucking the blankets in against the far wall— cute, real cute— he climbed in beside him. His long legs brushed against his, meeting with the hem of his sweatpants.

“Here, I can—“ he murmured, shifting his feet to allow him more room. “Is that—?”

“Yeah,” he said, settling in with a soft smile and resting his head on the pillow, nose mere inches from his. “Thanks,” he added, a flash of genuine appreciation in his eyes.

(Misty blue, he noted. Reminded him of the surf.)

Side by side, they lay together in pregnant silence for an unknown duration. Their overlapping heartbeats were the only identifiable sound other than the clock’s ticking, and the never ceasing whistling of the wind. Seems the frat boys, at least, had since gone to sleep.

“Ford...”

“Hmm?”

“You do know I like ya’, right?”

And with that, a jolt of electricity shot through his entire nervous system. His tongue went slack, and Fiddleford spoke again.

“Like, like like you?”

Oh sweet Moses, it was as if his stomach had turned itself inside out- but not in an unpleasant, sick in bed with carbonated water and soda crackers sort of way, not at all. No, rather the odd sensation was light and fluttery. His face felt curiously warm, a welcome change from the frigid conditions he’d suffered in all night up until now. Breathlessly, he tried to splutter out a response.

“Y-you... you mean to say that you—?”

“Was wonderin’ when you’d finally notice? No offense, but your head’s kinda been up in the clouds.”

“I—“

He closed his eyes, steeling his nerves.

“I- really like you, too,” he finally admitted, that fluttery sensation acting up again at declaring it out loud for the first time.

“Oh, we all know,” he said fondly.

His eyes shot open.

“We?"

“What, d’ya think the rest of the crew couldn’t notice? Ford Pines, ‘m sorry ta say you really ain’t as subtle as you think you are, pining away over here.” Fiddleford paused to reach across to his face, and brushed a stray bit of his brown hair behind his ear. He peered thoughtfully into his eyes. “You ain’t subtle, and neither am I, frankly. It’s why I decided to be the first to speak up ‘bout it, ‘cause lord knows it probably wouldn’t‘ve been you.”

“I’d say I resent that, but you’re probably right,” he said with a warm chuckle, already feeling a great deal more confident about the scenario than he did only moments ago.

That wonderful man simply had something about him, something about the upbeat, genuine way he talked, that could put even the most nervous of souls at ease. He couldn’t explain it, not fully, but whenever he was around him he felt inspired to do things he’d never before considered. To take risks, to experience new and better things, to say ‘fuck it’ and sign up for that cryptography elective he desperately wanted to take even though it didn’t apply to his major... To always make the best effort he could to take care of himself, to live striving with purpose regardless of when that purpose feels impossibly distant on the horizon, to laugh daily even when laughter is the last thing he feels he’s humanly capable of...

To fall in love...

“How long has it been,” he asked, suddenly curious, “since you knew?”

“Since I knew...? Knew what? That I liked men? That you had a crush? That- that I also had one?”

“Any of it, really?”

“Hmmm,” Fiddleford thought out loud, tapping his slender finger to his chin. “Well, I figured out I was queer back when I was a kid. Had a crush on this young mailman we used to get ‘round our parts, see. And I knew you had the hots for me ever since I overheard ya’ muttering all sorts of cute things in your sleep.”

A nervous “Heh, heh” was all he could manage in response. He leaned his head ever so slightly closer to him.  

“But me? Well, I s’pose it was... Apollo 12. Back in November. We were watching the launch downstairs, in the lounge, and you... you were just so passionate about it. ‘Bout the whole world ‘round us. All my days an’ I’ve never known anyone so in love with discovery, with askin’ why. Spending time with you’s been one of the best things in my life,” he admitted, blushing slightly.

“Same,” Ford agreed, grinning wildly, his cheeks the same shade of red. “So then, if we both...? What now?”

“For now, we sleep,” he said with a short laugh. “If we stay up any later, not even Cafe Cubano could wake us up in time for lecture, I’m sure."

“Ah, but you doubt the power of my ma’s famous Cafe Cubano.”

He snickered, and then— leaned over to press a gentle kiss to his cheek. “Goodnight, Ford.”

The man rolled over then, a respectful offer of privacy within their already intimate arrangement. Ford beamed, still entirely giddy and awed in light of everything that had happened, dusting his fingers over the skin his lips graced.

“Goodnight...” he wished, his restless form finally finding a sense of deep, encompassing peace.

For tonight, at least, his slumber would be sound and dreamless.

#gravity falls #stanford pines #fiddleford mcgucket #fiddauthor #gravity falls fanfiction #my writing stuff #headcanons pulled from for this fic- for anyone curious: #fidds is trans and bisexual #ford is panromantic ace but at this point in college IDs as gay bc i don't imagine he'd find those specific words until much later in his li #also ford is half cuban on his ma's side

[alys-gay-parade]

I've been doing some good hecking art last couple of days. Mostly of lil' Ma Pines. And a college Fiddauthor. Please discuss my art.

#gravity falls #ma pines #stanford pines #fiddleford mcgucket #fiddauthor #my art

[thelastspeecher]

Stanuary '23 - Week 2: Connection

Last Stanuary, I hadn't created the particular AU this prompt takes place in yet. But it's quickly become one of my favorites, so naturally I had to use it! What is it? Why, it's my Accidental Abduction AU, where Stan gets accidentally abducted by aliens shortly after getting kicked out and just sorta decides to stay on the alien planet.

For this prompt, I wasn't just inspired by the main "Connection" one, but also by the sub-prompts of "Father Figure" and "Twins".

———————————————————————————————————–

              Stan slammed down his hand.

              “Read ‘em and weep,” he crowed proudly.  The father of the alien family Stan was staying with, whom Stan had nicknamed Merle, looked at the cards Stan had laid on the table.

              “What is this one, again?” he asked.

              “A full house.”

              “Full house…” Merle mumbled to himself as he checked the notes Stan had given him.  After discovering that he had a deck of cards in the Stanleymobile, Stan insisted on teaching the alien family how to play card games with him.  The alien children were busy with school, so right now he was teaching the alien parents.  It was slow going; card games apparently weren’t a thing in their culture.  Luckily, the alien parents worked from home, so they had time to sink into learning poker.

              But after getting the game ruined multiple times because Merle or his wife had to ask Stan what their hand was, Stan wrote up some notes for them to follow during the game.  Merle had been exceedingly proud of it, commenting that Stan was learning how to write in their language much quicker than most.

              “Hmm.  Yes, I concede,” Merle said, setting his cards down.  Stan grinned.  “I cannot help but wonder how much of these games you have been making up as we go.  You win every single time!”  Though Stan was picking up the alien language in its written form, he was struggling to understand it when spoken, so he had to use his translator.  The translator worked well, but made the aliens sound formal to the point of robotic.

              “Nah, that’s how it was back on Earth, too,” Stan said breezily.  Merle chuckled.  His wife, whom Stan had given the Earth nickname Sally, walked into the living room.  She kissed Merle on the cheek and ruffled Stan’s hair.

              “How is your Earth game coming along?” she asked.

              “Stan beat me again,” Merle replied.  Sally laughed.  “We should see if your mother wants to play with him.”

              “Oh!  That is an excellent idea,” Sally said.  She frowned.  “I do not know why I did not think of it myself.”  Sally gently tapped Stan’s back.  “Up, Stan.  It is time to make midday meal.”

              “I’m getting up, I’m getting up,” Stan grumbled.  He got up from his chair, as did Merle.  Merle smiled at him.  When Stan was first abducted, he’d been terrified by the aliens’ needle-like and very large teeth.  Now, however, the sight was normal.  “What are we making today, Merle?”

              “An exotic delicacy with ingredients that are difficult to find and very expensive,” Merle replied.  Stan winced.

              “Uh, do you really want me to help cook, then?” he asked.  “I’m pretty new to this.”  Something that had surprised Stan about the alien culture was that males typically prepared meals.  The culture as a whole didn’t seem to have very firm gender roles, which made this lingering one particularly odd to Stan.  But as a male, Stan was expected to pitch in with cooking.

              “You will want to participate,” Merle said firmly.  Stan followed him to the kitchen.  “The recipe is on the top shelf,” Merle said, rummaging through cabinets for cookware.

              “Great,” Stan muttered.  He grabbed his stepstool.  Even the shortest of the aliens, like the ones he’d named Lute and Angie, were at least a foot taller than Stan.  He’d been given a stepstool after accidentally injuring himself early on trying to get something out of his reach.  Stan set the stepstool down and climbed onto it.  The recipes were stored in what looked like very thick floppy disks.  On the top shelf, there was only one recipe.  Stan grabbed the disk and climbed back down.  Merle emerged from the cabinets with a skillet and large baking dish.  “So, what are we making?” Stan asked again.  Merle smiled.

              “Why do you not tell me?” he said cheekily.  Stan looked down at the recipe disk.  He placed it on the counter and pressed a button on the side.  Promptly, a hologram flickered to life above the disk.  Stan squinted at the writing.

              “I think I recognize the word parthok.”  Parthok were the fluffy sheep-like creatures that the alien family had been tending to when they were in Earth’s solar system and accidentally abducted Stan.  It had been explained to Stan that parthok migrated but would get lost on their way home if they didn’t have help.

              “Yes, parthok is part of the recipe.”

              “And…”  Stan squinted further.  “Does that say ‘covered stew’?”

              “Correct!”  Merle frowned at Stan.  “Why have you made your eyes smaller?”

              “Sometimes this hologram stuff is tough to read.”

              “Hmm.  Perhaps we should take you to the physician,” Merle said.  “Poor eyesight is, as I understand it, common in humans.”

              “Pfft, like there’s anyone on this planet who can be a human doctor,” Stan scoffed.  Merle smiled.  “…Is there?”

              “Darling!” Merle called.  Sally poked her head in the kitchen.  “Please call the physician your mother recommended.  Stan should get his eyes examined.”

              “Honestly, he should have a full examination,” Sally said.  “We should have called the physician the moment we arrived, rather than blindly trusting Stan to tell us if he was injured or ill.”

              “I’ve told you the truth!” Stan protested.  “…Mostly.”  Merle chortled and thumped Stan on the back.

              “Of course you have kept some from us!  You act like the juvenile you are, Stan.”

              “The physician will also be able to give us some more guidance in human care,” Sally said.  “My mother has been very helpful, but after so long, she has forgotten much.”  Sally’s gaze landed on the recipe on the counter.  Her eyes widened.  “Are you making my mother’s parthok covered stew recipe?” she asked.

              “Yes.  I felt that it might drag Stan out of his somber mood somewhat.  He has been so glum lately, with the children at the educational facility and the weather so poor.”

              “He’s also right here,” Stan muttered, crossing his arms.  “What makes this parthok covered stew so good, anyways?”  Sally and Merle exchanged a look.

              “Well, the first thing would be that it has a different name,” Sally said.  Stan frowned, confused.  “My mother translated it as best she could, but the original name is…”  Sally furrowed her brow in concentration.  “Shepherd’s pie.”  Stan’s eyes widened.

              “That’s- that’s an Earth recipe,” he said.  Sally nodded.  “Why does your mom have an Earth recipe?”

              “Because Earth is her home planet,” Sally said softly.  Stan’s jaw dropped.  “I am…half-human.”

              “No way,” Stan breathed.  “That one guy said that people on this planet haven’t accidentally abducted humans before me, though!”

              “My mother was a purposeful abduction.  She was collected from Earth to be sold.  Much like those scoundrels who attempted to take you at the market.”

              “Holy shit,” Stan whispered.

              “By the time my mother was rescued, she opted to stay on this planet.  She had been entrenched in our culture so long that she felt she would do poorly on Earth.  Not to mention, she greatly appreciated that the female inhabitants of this planet had more freedoms than the females of Earth.”

              “Yeah, that checks out,” Stan muttered, thinking about the arguments his father had with his mother.  He cleared his throat.  “Now it makes sense why you keep talking about your mom when something human comes up.”  He could still remember the aliens panicking when he caught an illness normally mild in their species.  When his symptoms took a turn for the worse, Angie and Lute mentioned that their mother was calling their grandmother practically every hour for advice.

              Back then, I thought it was just ‘cause grandmas know what to do when someone gets sick.  But Sally’s mom must’ve gotten that illness and had it hit her hard, too.

              “Yes, well…”  Sally shook a finger at Stan playfully.  “Do not try to distract me from setting up an appointment with the physician any longer.  I know how juveniles will do all they can to avoid seeing the physician.”  She disappeared back into the living room.  Stan looked at Merle.

              “There’s really a doctor on this planet that knows how to take care of humans?” he asked.  Merle nodded.

              “There are very few humans on this planet, but on some planets, they are far more common.  The physician we will take you to has had training on other planets.  He even has experience tending to hybrids.”

              “Huh.  I guess that’s kinda cool?” Stan said after a moment.

              “Before our children were born, Sally and I got into contact with this physician,” Merle said.  He opened the cooler-like box that perishable goods were stored in.  As Merle handed Stan various ingredients, Stan set them on the counter.  “After all, our children would be hybrids, and we wanted to be prepared for any problems caused by that.”  Merle closed the cooler’s lid.  Stan set down the last ingredient he’d been handed, a package of parthok meat.

              “Your kids are hybrids?”

              “Yes.  They are a quarter-human.”

              “Oh.  Right.”

              “Luckily, the children had no problems caused by their hybrid nature.”  Merle grabbed a knife from a drawer and rapped the counter twice.  The counter hardened to become like a cutting board.  “Please rinse the vegetables.”

              “Yep.”  Stan brought the vegetables over to the sink and began to wash them off.

              “In fact, strangers do not typically notice the children are hybrids,” Merle continued.  “With the exception of Angie and Lute, of course.  Their human heritage shows in their stature.”  Merle chuckled softly.  “I feel confident saying that the only individuals on this planet shorter than them are more human than they are.”

              “Sally’s pretty tall.”

              “She gets that from her father,” Merle replied.  Stan brought the vegetables back to Merle.  Merle had set aside a knife for him to use as well.  Stan grabbed a rom, his favorite vegetable on the alien planet.  It looked like a bright red potato but tasted like caramelized onions.  He began to peel it.

              “Kinda stinks Angie and Lute didn’t get any of that height.”

              “I think my genetics are to blame in that regard,” Merle said.  He was an eighth child, and the shortest of them all.  Stan met Merle’s very tall family at a holiday gathering a few weeks ago, where he had been the center of attention.  Every one of Merle’s relatives had been fascinated by the human in their midst.  “I was just glad that all the children had twins.”

              “Why?” Stan asked.  He set aside the rom peel and pressed the counter.  A hole opened up underneath the rom peel, allowing it to fall into the trash.  Stan started dicing the rom.

              “You have not been told, have you?” Merle said.  Stan looked at him.

              “Told what?”

              “My species never has one offspring at a time.  It is always at least two.  Sometimes it is more than two, but never less.”  Merle sighed.  He brushed aside the scraps from his own vegetable.  “Poor Sally.  Because her mother was human, she was not guaranteed a twin.  And she did not get one.  Her other siblings did.  But not her.”

              “…Oh.”

              “We were so worried our children would suffer the same fate.  Sally was distraught at the idea.  To grow up the only one on the entire planet without a twin?  It was…traumatizing to her.  Much of our culture is based around the fact we are with someone from the moment we are born.  She was shut out of so many things.  But thankfully, our children never had to experience such a horror.”  Merle looked at Stan.  “Though now it seems those fears about taking care of someone without a twin have come to pass.”

              “I mean…” Stan mumbled.  He looked down at the partially chopped rom.  “I’ve got a twin.  On Earth.”

              “Really?!” Merle gasped.  Stan nodded.  “You seem fine separated from them, but that makes no sense.”

              “It’s- it’s complicated.  I don’t wanna get into it.”

              “Twins have a sacred bond.”

              “Yeah, well, my twin sorta screwed up that bond,” Stan snapped.  “After what he did, I might as well not have a twin.  Hell, as far as I’m concerned, I don’t.”  A silence fell.  Just as it was stretching long enough to feel awkward, Merle spoke.

              “This family is truly the best place for you.”

              “‘Cause you guys know about humans,” Stan muttered.  He finished dicing the rom.

              “Yes, but it is more than that,” Merle said slowly.  Stan looked at him.  “We are not the most, how should I phrase it?  Average family.  Angie and Lute are short.  My son you have yet to meet, he is the first of our species to ever live on Earth full-time.  My other children similarly defy what is typical.  Even my wife does so, as she has no twin.”  Merle smiled at Stan.  “And neither do you.”  Merle handed Stan another vegetable to chop.  Stan placed it on the counter.  He blinked in surprise when he got a closer look at it.

              “Where’d you find carrots?” he asked.

              “I told you that this recipe has strange ingredients.”

              “Carrots aren’t strange.”

              “On Earth, no.”  Merle tweaked Stan’s nose.  “But remember, Stanley, you are not on Earth anymore.”

#Stanuary #Gravity Falls #Gravity Falls AU #Accidental Abduction AU #Stanley Pines #Ma McGucket #Pa McGucket #McGucket Family #my writing #my stuff #ficlet #(I threw in a little bit more exposition than usual to make sure things Make Sense #to people who might not have come across this AU of mine before) #speecher speaks

[eregyrn-falls-art]

And here it is, the video version of the "Trouble" Multi-Artist Lyric Comic! All the kudos in the world to @stariousfalls for editing this whole thing together!!!

Go here for the post with all of the lyric page art viewable separately. Go to the Trouble Lyric Comic tag on my main blog to see links to people's posts of their art.

Below the read-more, please find the credits, with tags/links to everyone's blogs!

And once again, huge thank you to everyone who participated in this project -- it was so much fun to work on! And special thanks to @mercury-falls for helping me to organize all of this! I'm still so jazzed to see this final product -- the "amv" to this song that I've been wanting to see since 2016, and here it is, and it's wonderful! And it's even MORE wonderful because this represents a LOT of people coming together to express and share their love for this show.

(Go here for some more extended thank-yous!)

CREDITS

Photo Collage One: Elishevart, Pinkplatiploo, Zephrunsimperium, Creativepup, Batman-gif, Fordtato (all newspaper clippings), Shadeartstuff, Skysdrawings

I’ve been a beggar: lemonfodrizzleart

And I’ve been a king: kingsofjersey

I’ve been a loner: muria-art

And I’ve worn the ring: everlight_283 (instagram)

Losing myself: batman-gif

Just to find me again: tazmiilly & gin-juice-tonic

I’m a million miles smarter: eregyrn-falls-art & stephreynaart

But I ain’t learned a thing: annakitsun3

I’ve been a teacher: gobblewanker

And a student of hurt: skysdrawings

I kept my word: orangephoenix6

For whatever that’s worth: mother-ofthe-universedraws

Never been last: jackyjackdraws

But I’ve never been first: jasmine-sketchbook

Oh I may not be the best: stephreynaart

But I’m far from the worst: spectralreplica

Oh I may not be the best: elishevart

But I’m far from the worst: zkyeline

Oh, I’ve seen trouble: fexiled

More than any man should bear: mischieflily

But I’ve seen enough joy: ginandshattereddreams

I’ve had more than my share: gin-juice-tonic

And I’m still not done: morcian-draws

I’m only halfway there: jamesfenimoreharper

I’m a million miles ahead of where I’m from: fordtato

But there’s still another million miles to come: deerpines, orangephoenix6 & fordtato

Photo Collage Two: Creativepup, Cbmagus49, Inkdrawndreamer, Bluefrostyy, Fordtato, Mother-ofthe-Universedraws, Fordtato & Jamesfenimoreharper, Shadeartstuff, AlphaZeD, Bewildred-grimsley

Oh I keep on searching for the City of Gold: vililae

So I’m gonna follow this yellow brick road: cbmagus49

Thinking that maybe it might lead me on: cutebatart

I’m a million miles farther: hellmandraws

And a long way from home: eregyrn-falls-art

I know that there’s a plan that goes way beyond mine: possumbreath

Got to step back just to see the design: pottersfieldcustodian

The mind fears the heart: rechoclo

But the heart doesn’t mind: novantinuum

Oh I may not be perfect: tazmiilly

But I’m loving this life: hubbabubbagumpop

Oh I may not be perfect: athgalla-arts

But I’m loving this life: thisiswhereidraw

Oh I’ve seen trouble: purblzart

More than any man should bear: shadowofaghost5

But I’ve seen enough joy: alextwdgf01 & fordtato

I’ve had more than my share: dragonsheepstudios

And I’m still not done: acetyzias & stephreynaart

I’m only halfway there: cryptidjeepers

I’m a million miles ahead of where I’m from: chiiroptereh

But there’s still another million miles to come: stephreynaart

Photo Collage Three: Cbmagus49, Fordsy, Puppylove, Lemonfodrizzleart, Jamesfenimoreharper, Gin-juice-tonic, Fordtato & Vililae, Rusted-blue, Sciencevillain, Mother-ofthe-Universedraws, Possumbreath, Shadowofaghost5, Pinestwinssimp, Nour386, Cutebatart, Possumbreath, Melodramaticwolf, Tazmiilly, Eregyrn-falls-art

#gravity falls #stanford pines #stanley pines #mabel pines #dipper pines #trouble lyric comic #lyric comics #multi artist lyric comic #soos ramirez #wendy corduroy #fiddleford mcgucket #ma pines #filbrick pines #sea grunks! #smol Stans #teen Stans #carla mccorkle #mullet Stan #portal Ford #my art #Youtube

[gin-juice-tonic]

ma mcgucket approves at least

#long post #disco boys #'STOP HITTIN ON MY MOMMA' #'YOU ARE SO GROUNDED SON' #Pbbth #ask stuff #comic stuff

[shmobugsbrainrot]

gravity falls character headcanons!!!!

dipper played baseball for a while, and was pretty good at batting. he can't catch for shit though cause he's scared of getting hit by the ball. that's why he used the shovel as a bat and hit that disco ball at the zombies (scary oke)

mabel is really good at wiring, since she has those sweaters that light up and play music and stuff. mcgucket would definitely give her instructions on stuff like that during future summers

wendy's actually a lesbian going through comphet. my reasoning for this is that she breaks up with guys pretty fast and often, and doesn't really seem all that excited to get into a relationship with them: "yeah, I guess so."

(also I'm a lesbian and kin her so it's basically canon /j)

dipper and mabel are both pretty chubby, mabel moreso than dipper. she has a bit more muscle mass whereas he doesn't have much muscle at all

as the younger twins grow up, it became clear that mabel is the taller one. she beats dipper by an inch and so he wears shoes with padding inside because he's petty

once pacifica started getting more freedom after weirdmageddon, she started getting into more grungy/alternative fashion. since her favorite color is hot pink, she started actually buying like crop tops in that color and pairing them with ripped jeans and combat boots and cool jackets and stuff. she's more expressive with her style

stanley and ford eventually came clean about everything to their ma, who gave them a long and hard lecture about being knuckleheads and to never do that again, before hugging them super tight and saying she missed them

filbrick is dead. as he should be

caryn pines is a badass and a GOOD MOTHER. she couldn't do anything about filbrick kicking stan out cause she just woke up and was caring for a BABY like she didn't know what was happening and I don't think filbrick would've let her bring stan back. if I see anyone hating on her I'm tearing up your lawn

wendy likes shitty romcoms cause she can make fun of them, and gravity falls by far has some of the worst she's ever seen. secretly she thinks they're sweet but it's hard to take them seriously when the filming is done so horribly

soos actually is trilingual, knowing english, spanish, and japanese. he taught himself japanese and since he's a huge fan of animes it helped to watch subbed shows until he got it, same way with spanish even though he already grew up with it

pacifica is a major germophobe cause of her upbringing. her parents essentially taught her to be afraid of not being clean, which is why she acts the way she does about the shack or touching mcgucket's hands during weirdmageddon

pacifica eventually works at greasy's diner, and actually enjoys it. even though it isn't the cleanest, she likes being able to earn her share and repairing her relationship with the townsfolk

they're all autistic. every character. all of em, and here are their stims

mabel: flapping her arms and legs, echoing what people say, pressure stim, rocking, chewing her hair

dipper: chewing, wringing his shirt, rocking, shaking out hands

stanley: patting himself, lip trills, clicking, some verbal stims where he sings, humming

stanford: tapping, pulling on his hair, twirling pens and dice between his fingers, swaying, hitting himself (only during meltdowns), pressure stim

wendy: pacing, swaying, tugging her hair, spinning her axe, humming

soos: patting himself, mouth popping, rocking on his feet, messing with his tools

pacifica: screeching, rocking, pressure stim, pulling her hair, hitting herself

fiddleford: slapping/patting himself, tapping his feet, dancing while standing, swaying, tilting his head back and forth

#I didn't mean to make this post so long but uhm #I love this show and the characters and have so many thoughts all the time #also I'm correct about everything so nobody is allowed to argue heart emoji #gravity falls #gravity falls stanford #pacifica gravity falls #dipper gravity falls #mabel gravity falls #stanley gravity falls #gravity falls stanley #grunkle stan #grunkle ford #wendy courderoy #wendy courdoroy #soos ramirez #soos gravity falls #headcanon #headcanons #long post #text post

[kittykat-creations]

Snow Angels and Real Ones

@twelve-days-of-x-mas Day Two: Playing Outside In the Snow

I decided to do Relativity Falls for this one. Stan and Ford always visit Gravity Falls during winter break, so this one takes place during that.

“Ya missed!”

Fiddleford gleefully jumped aside as another snowball landed by his feet. He ran past the porch, scooping up a handful of snow from the ground and squeezing it into a ball. He quickly hid behind a tree and peaked out to see Ford standing out in the open. Doing a few quick calculations in his head, Fiddleford chucked the snowball out at Ford. Unfortunately, the boy saw it coming and was able to duck out of the way.

“Darn!” Fiddleford complained, running off again.

“You get back here!” Ford laughed, chasing after his boyfriend. 

“Never!” Fiddleford cried. He stumbled in the snow, nearly falling down. “Dang dang dang!”

He was able to steady himself and continuing running, but it was too late. Ford grabbed the back of his hood, causing Fiddleford to yell out and fall face-first into the snow. He felt Ford fall on top of him and grunted as he struggled to push himself up. He used a gloved hand and wiped the snow from his face. He rolled over in the snow, looking up at Ford.

Ford and Fiddleford panted, both boys’ glasses fogging up. Ford leaned down suddenly, kissing the boy below him. Fiddleford’s face heated up and he froze slightly in shock before Ford pulled back and shoved a snowball into his face. Fiddleford gasped and spat the snow out of his mouth as Ford cackled, quickly getting to his feet and hurrying off a few feet.

“Stanford- pbbt!- Pines!” Fiddleford cried. He sat up, shaking the snow out of his hair. “That’s gay! And cheatin’!”

“Well where’s the rule book?” Ford asked, setting his hands on his hips.

“Ah’m about ta shove it up yer-”

“Ah-ah-ah! Language!” Ford teased, tsking. Fiddleford glared playfully, brushing his clothes off. Ford came over, offering him a hand. Fiddleford took it, accepting the help to stand up and in return, shoving a handful of snow down the back of Ford’s coat. The boy yelped, jumping away and trying to get it out. Fiddleford doubled over in laughter, clutching his stomach. Ford’s face burned red as he looked angrily at Fiddleford, but he couldn’t help but giggle.

“Why don’t we go inside and get some hot chocolate?” Ford offered, holding out a hand. Fiddleford looked at it skeptically before grinning and taking it.

“Yer aunt does make pretty good hot chocolate,” Fiddleford hummed. The two boys giggled and shoved into each other playfully as they made their way back into the shack and the promise of hot drinks.

#Twelve Days of X-Mas #fiddauthor #stanford pines #fiddleford mcgucket #mabel pines (mention) #relativity falls