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#Stan o War II
st4nch3z-f00l · 2 years
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A Fading Day~Part 2
TW: Su!c!de, self harm
Sorry this is short!
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Stan slowly walked back to the boat, wiping the tears from his eyes as he walked.
When he walked on, he felt he didn’t belong there. 
Stan didn’t want to be here.
He slowly walked over to his room, trying to not make any noise while going past the study. When he got there, he closed the door silently.
Then, Stan grabbed a pocket knife out of his drawer.
He made a small incision on his arm. 
And another.
And another.
And another.
After a couple minutes, his arm was covered in blood.
Finally, he felt some sort of happiness. He liked the pain.
He fell down onto the floor, smiled and in a hoarse voice, he whispered: “Do you like me now, Sixer?...”
Then, everything went black.
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jacky-rubou · 2 years
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interesting headcanon that I thought of... Ford occasionally sleepwalks on the Stan O' War II in the first few months of their adventure, leading to scenarios where Stan wakes up some nights to see Ford standing and staring at a wall or catches him wandering the boat, all while fast asleep. Sometimes even speaking incoherently to nobody. Stan usually ends up having to gently lead him back to bed, with reassurances that it was only him if he resists, though occasionally Ford went back to bed on his own. Ford never remembers these moments in the morning, but feels deeply disturbed the first time Stan related them to him off-handedly, being reminded of Bill possessing him in his sleep all those years ago. It almost makes him not want to sleep out of that old fear, but Stan was quick to remind him that Bill was gone, and, even if he wasn't, 'ya still got that plate in your head, don'tcha?', which was reassuring enough to get him to sleep without being scared that the somnambulism meant anything more than being a symptom of his years of sleep deprivation. Eventually, Ford's sleepwalking episodes grew farther apart and less potentially dangerous than that one time he took control of the boat while sleeping (Stan actually had to wake him up with an air horn so they didn't get lost), until they finally became a rare occurrence that only happened when he was exceptionally stressed. However, Ford was not amused when he found out that Stan, instead of getting him back to sleep right away one time, had recorded one of his more hilarious sleepwalking incidents and sent it to the twins back at home. He would never live it down when they came back to Gravity Falls to visit. But who could blame Stan when Ford had been arguing with the wall about jellybean flavors?
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lesbiten · 2 years
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how DOES anyone deal with ford. guy comes home from superhell and immediately starts bullying his brother to make up for 30 years of Not Bullying Him and is only nice to him when he faces the threat of Him Dying Or Losing His Memory. ford you can be nice to stan like. normally just in your every day life
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triangularz · 2 months
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The list is updated fairly frequently, so reblogged versions may not be most recent; click here to be sure you’re viewing the latest
H-O
NOTES + #-G | P-Z
WELCOME, CELEBRATE! Darlings: This is a growing directory of Black individuals who create (different backgrounds, experiences, interests, etc.) and represent a variety of preferences, styles, subgenres, fandoms, original works, etc. Link to it in pinned posts (its in mine for your reference) or save to keep top of mind and heart ✔️
Check out NOTES + #-G for important context. Let’s add you to the list ✔️
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some blogs listed may not be active, but have great work. abbreviations/definitions/listing of genres, styles, etc. here
H
haemocyaninz (original art, ocs, fanart- mob psycho, rise of
tmnt, adventure time, dorohedoro, cm, teen titans)
halfofmysoulsblog hanwiore harmshake (wwe)
headcannonxgalore (stranger things, wwe- drew mcintyre,
randy orton, la knight, more)
heavyhitterheaux (jack harlow, urban wyatt, joe burrow)
hellavile (aot, ds, jjk, naruto, bleach, seven deadly sins)
henneseyhoe (michael b. jordan, yahya abdul mateen II,
trevante rhodes, john boyega, more- smut, fluff, angst)
highdefhoetry (jjk- smut)
hikatamika (original art, ocs)
honeeslust (jjk, mha, kny- smut, fluff)
honeybleed (aot, bleach, op, jjba, others- smut, fluff, angst,
humor) hoshigray (jjk, soiderverse, h!!- smut)
I
icy-spicy
J
jadedjotun jazzthatonewriterchick (bnha, op, jjk- smut,
plot, drabbles, some dark content, x black reader)
joannasteez jstarr86 julieonbeat juniperhaven (art)
K
k1ng0fsug4r kanekisfavoritegf kechiwrites (jjk, haikyuu,
cod, marvel, dc- smut, fluff, plot, humor, dc)
keikiri-kitten kentosbabes kill-the-artiste
killustrations (art)
kingkonoha @ksakiswh0re-xo (tr- smut, nsfw, dc. blog
owner of @bleach-your-panties) kweenkatsuki-fics
L
leobeedeo (art) littlemochabunni lollipopliccer
lostbluejayart (oc, original art, fanart)
lotus-flower-writes @lovesuguu
lowkeyremi (h!!, bnha, jjk, aot, tr, ds, saiki k, food wars, hxh)
lurrkingly (original and fanart) luxesiren
M
@magicxc (marvel- s. stan, c. evans, anthony mackie, aot,
other anime, original works- smut, angst, dark content)
magzanilla (original art) mcondance
megamindsecretlair (marvel)
merakidoll (aot, jjk, h!!, ds, tr, op, more- smut)
michaels-reality/reality-gallery (original art)
mik0rin (jjk, h!!, aot- multi-part fics, angst, fluff, multi-chap/
long fics) missroki
miyuhpapayuh (original characters, black actors)
momopatchi (original art) mr-foods (homestuck- fanart)
msbigredmachine (wwe- smut, angst, drama, original
characters) muvaginger (kny- smut, fluff, angst)
mudavaye (original art)
mybonafidefeelings/just4shyt3z (woman king, black
panther, more)
N
nahimjustfeelingit-writes (black panther)
nanamin-nah-nanamine nasty-quillz
ndizzot (original art)
neesieiumz (jjk, mha, haikyuu, tr, aot)
nerdieforpedro (p. pascal) nicosbighead
nneedynymph
nodowdy-abouty (marvel, more- original and fanart)
noritopia (smut, occasional fluff, dark content- aot, h!!, jjk, tr,
mha)
notapradagurl7 (They Cloned Tyrone, Snowfall, Hunger
Games, All American/AA Homecoming, Duke Dennis,
Method Man, others- fluff, smut, angst)
nymphoheretic
O
ocelotrevs (photography)
oenomeneart (original art, oc- horror, suggestive themes)
ohimsummer omgeto (jjk- fluff, angst)
ophanimkei (original art)
▪️
Besos, Hazel 💋
blk fanfic writer, triangularz
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gay-jewish-bucky · 1 year
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Debunking the Claim that Bucky Barnes' Dog Tags "Prove He Cannot Be Jewish"
In 2021 and 2022, when discussing the fact that MCU!Bucky (henceforth referred to simply as Bucky) is based off of Arnie Roth, a gay Jewish man and Steve's childhood best friend, I received pushback from fans telling me that Bucky can't possibly be Jewish due to his dog tags; citing a behind the scenes picture posted by Sebastian Stan to his instagram story.
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Transcription of the dog tags:
James B. Barnes (Legal Name) 32557038 (Serial Number*) T41 42 (Tetanus Immunization) O (Blood Type) R. Barnes (Next of Kin) 3092 Stockton RD (Address) Shelbyville IN (Location) P (Religion Marker)
*A serial number starting with a 3 indicated that the servicemember was drafted into the Army, it's important that we do not forget that Bucky didn't chose to fight.
During World War II the dog tags of American service members would have had one of the following regulation religion markers:
P for Protestant (the marker we see on Bucky's dog tags)
C for Catholic
H for Hebrew, this being the marker for 'Jewish'
NO (or left blank) for No Religion
For Jewish servicemembers fighting in Europe, being discovered to be a Jew by your captors–especially if you were captured by the Nazis–carried considerable risk and could mean the difference between life or horrific torture, experimentation and possibly even death.
Some Jewish service members, justifiably incredibly fearful of what could happen if they were found out, would either omit a religion marker altogether or, after getting their tags, would attempt to obscure the 'H' marker in some way so it could not be read by their captors.
While this saved some lives, it was not a perfect and fool-proof system, and we have no way of knowing how many times it failed.
In 1943, the year Bucky was drafted, the Army introduced a more official (and more widely adoptable, and thus widely adopted) option to protect Jews in its ranks:
Through the European Theatre of Operations United States Army, Jewish servicemembers could elect to have the 'H' marker for Hebrew on their dog tags replaced with a 'P' for Protestant.
This would offer Jewish servicemembers a more convincing layer of protection if they were ever captured by the enemy, because, unlike an obscured religion marker (or that lack of one) which could itself draw suspicion, a set of dog tags printed with a 'P' would be entirely indistinguishable from the dog tags worn by a gentile and would be less likely to draw suspicion.
Due to this option being made available to Jewish people serving in the United States Armed Forces, the 'P' marker on Bucky's dog tags not only does not definitively prove that he's really a gentile, in actuality its presence provides even further historical support in favour of him being a Jewish man.
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Sources and Additional Reading:
Jewish GIs and Their Dog-Tags by Rabbi Akiva Males - Hakirah
A Star of David for Pvt. Benjamin Garadetsky - Jewish Telegraphic Agency (jta.org)
U.S. Army WW2 Dog Tags | WW2 US Medical Research Centre (med-dept.com)
Do You Know the History of the "Dog Tag" (jcveteranscouncil)
Beyond The Battle: Religion and American Troops In World War II (uky.edu)
World War II and American Jewish Identity
European Theater of Operations, United States Army - Wikipedia
Pride Month 2022, 40 Years of Arnie Roth and Michael Bech - Marvel Comics: The Queer History Behind MCU Bucky’s Backstory
J.M. DeMatteis, the creator of Arnie, confirming the character's use for MCU!Bucky
Full screenshot of Sebastian Stan's post of the dog tag
How to Decode a WWII US Army Serial Number | Amy Johnson Crow
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faustzlla · 12 days
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stan o' war II
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incomingalbatross · 2 months
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Gravity Falls, the first year after canon:
Kids start school basically as soon as they get home. Wendy and Co. go back into high school. Dipper starts boxing lessons at a local gym.
Stan and Ford get the Stan O' War II operational around the end of September, making a detour to sail south and see the kids before heading to the Arctic. Meet the Pines parents! (I really wanted them there for Thanksgiving, but I couldn't justify delaying their voyage by a whole three months. And end of September situates their sailing right after Yom Kippur, which from my limited understanding seems nicely symbolic.)
The kids + parents spend Thanksgiving with their dad's side of the family. May involve a belated realization that no one told Grandpa Shermie he has two brothers again. Oops? Situation is rectified.
Through the Magic of Christmas and a fortuitous run-in with Santa, Stan and Ford unexpectedly get to go home for Christmas! They even get to visit Piedmont and (with the kids) Gravity Falls before they zip back to their boat. Lots of reunions. This is also when Soos and Melody announce they've just gotten engaged. :)
Spring is less eventful in terms of California-Oregon-Arctic traffic.
The second school lets out, the younger twins are racing the older ones to Oregon. It's a photo finish probably. Everyone crowds into the Shack, which is fuller with Soos and Abuelita there, but it's also full of secret rooms and a floorplan that makes no sense, so it's fine.
Stan and Ford's birthday is on June 15!! It is a Very Big Deal. Dipper and Mabel go all out on the party planning, though they keep it mostly confined to the Shack crew.
Somewhere in here (maybe at the start? maybe in the middle?) Dipper and Mabel's parents come up for a couple weeks of vacation. It's a little disorienting for everyone, but they learn to love the town and Mabel and Dipper love getting to share it with them.
Soos and Melody get married on July 13 - Melody is making a Statement with that choice of date, which Soos understands and is overjoyed by. Half the town is at the wedding and all of it is at the reception (even though anyone not on the limited guest list has to pay admission. Stan is weeping with pride).
McGucket uses his new wealth to throw a ludicrously wild and extravagant shindig for the town on the date of the traditional Northwest party.
Despite the reach of NMAT, everyone feels unsettled on the anniversary of Weirdmageddon. People end up congregating in the town square in the evening. Wendy and her gang start a bonfire, people start bringing out food, and suddenly people are singing apocalypse folk songs? Trading stories? It's a whole thing in the end, but it helps people make something fun out of their memories.
The summer ends on a better note for the whole town, though, with a blow-out party to celebrate Mabel and Dipper's fourteenth birthday. This year their parents come up to give them company on the trip home, so they get to be there for the party too!
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tessellated-sunl1ght · 11 months
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Stress doodles of He.
[Image Description: a series of sketches of Stanford Pines from Gravity Falls.
Top left: a detailed, shaded grayscale neck-up portrait of Ford smiling and looking down to the right at someone unseen. He has a large scar tracing across his face and up to his left eye, which is covered by a blacked-out lens of his glasses. He’s saying “I am, as the youth say, awake.” Someone is replying “do u mean ‘woke’”.
Middle left: a colored drawing of Stan and Ford, in their Stan O’ War II outfits. Ford is smiling giddily up at something looming above him and casting a shadow over both him and Stan, with a notebook clutched in his left hand. Stan is a little ways behind him, looking up with a mix of fear and confusion on his face. Both brothers have brown-blue complete heterochromia in opposite eyes.
Bottom left: a warm, flatly colored monochromatic drawing of Ford looking down at something with a happy, excited look on his face. He’s lit by an unseen light source and yelling something in an alien language.
Bottom middle: a grayscale, full-body, top-down sketch of Ford looking up at something angrily. He’s wearing his classing outfit and has a gun clutched in his right fist, and is brightly lit by an unseen light source.
Bottom right: a flatly-colored sketch of Ford sat slightly hunched with one leg crossed over the other and holding a glass of wine in his right hand, posed over his knee. He is wearing a waistcoat over a black shirt and red tie with his golden six-fingered symbol on it. His legs and half of his torso are outside of the drawing.
Top right: a full-body colored and shaded sketch of Ford wearing a girl’s Japanese high school uniform and looking down at himself with his left arm held across his body thinking “this is actually quite comfortable.” He has scattered scars on his left arm and legs, his right arm is out of view.
Middle: a colored chibi drawing of Ford in his classic outfit with the agender flag behind him. The text above reads “his gender is unsafe science”. End description]
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headcanonfalls · 25 days
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Tourny 2 Round One!
our competitors:
headcanon that Stan teaches Ford how to fish on the Stan O' War II
(no explanation needed)
headcanon that Stan is connected to the axolotl
(no explanation needed)
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mother-ofthe-universe · 11 months
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Popular portrayal of the Stan O War II days say that Stan’s constantly dragging Fords ass to bed but let’s be honest this man’s got an equally fucked up sleep schedule full of working until he passes out just like his brother
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fallen-gravity · 2 years
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Day 2: Favorite Journal Page
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The one that talks about Stan recovering his memory!! It’s such a soft, intimate moment that comes as a welcome contrast to all of the heartbreak from Weirdmageddon. I genuinely love that they ultimately decided to keep this moment to the journal, rather than putting this in the show as a scene, because it reads to me as a very soft, private moment.
I remember right before the Journal came out, I was hoping and pleading for content of the Stan twins bonding. There was a part of me that was convinced we would get absolutely squat, since I knew most of the journal was written pre-reconciliation, and that anything other than angry griping and occasional nostalgia would just be hopeful thinking. This page, in turn, was a huge surprise. It felt like such a love letter to Stan and Ford, and everything perfect and not-so-perfect about their relationship. It felt like a loving thank you note to fans, for all of our crazy speculation and over-the-top reconciliation fics. 
I’m happy beyond words that we got a shot of them on the Stan O’ War II in the show, but I love this quiet moment just as much, because it feels very personal and grounding.
@gf10yearslaterzine​
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gin-juice-tonic · 1 year
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more stan o war II adventures
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fordtato · 1 year
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I was tagged by @anistarrose in this challenge! Thanks rose, this is so neat.
Rules are to share the first lines of ten of your most recent fanfics and tag ten people. I will not be doing that lmao - I don't even think I have 10 fics on my Ao3 (a lot of my stuff doesn't see the light of day) So I have elected to pick 5.
it's all GF stuff, mostly because i refuse to publish my knuckles the echidna stuff lmao
Jersey Boy (Gravity Falls)
The Backupsmore University brochure wasn’t nearly as interesting as one would would think by the way Stanford Pines pored over it, but if anyone were to wander by and see the way he stubbornly refused to look away from its pages, they might think it was a map to glistening treasure or the Fountain of Youth, rather than just a mediocre list of mediocre “luxuries” provided by a mediocre “school”: -Bug free dorms!* -Edible lunches!* -Certified non-criminal teachers!*
(jesus what a run-on sentence - y'all read this stuff?)
2. A Holiday Classic (Or, How Ford Learned Jane Fonda is Still Kicking) (Gravity Falls)
Stan and Ford were at port for only a few hours, but it didn’t stop them from fully exploring the gorgeous Finnish port town of Jakobstad while they waited for the repairs on the Stan O’ War II to finish up.
3. How Hard Can It Be To Lose (Gravity Falls)
He felt sick, and he knew it wasn’t going away until that money was in his hand. 
4. Time Loop (Gravity Falls)
He just had to get run out of California, huh? Right as the new year was creeping in? Couldn’t have lasted long enough to stay hunkered down with the palm trees through the winter before the cops were called on him?
5. 30 years (Gravity Falls)
He spared a glance over his shoulder, at the hunk of metal that ruined his life, the hunk of metal he had spent the better part of six years creating. It was falling apart, debris draped across the rafters. The end of the world.
I will be tagging @nour386, @sciencevillain, @unculturedmamoswine, @fordanoia @gravi-mania @ninety-smiles-an-hour and uuuuhhhhh i know there are people im missing here so im sorry about that, im just typing this up during a break from work - feel free to ignore this tag or feel free to grab this challenge yourself even if you aren't tagged!!!!
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writingwrench · 22 days
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Confession (Stanford x Reader)
 I hope y’all enjoy! If you want me to write another or you have a suggestion, hit me up!
 Stanford glanced at the photo of the cheerful woman on his desk. She had this immutable, meanderous personality that he’d fallen hard for.
 Ever since they were younger, he’d had a type of respect for her enthusiastic and bubbly personality. Ever since high school (maybe even before then) he’d acquired an officious fervor for her. He didn’t really know how to tell her for fear of provoking some kind of rancor. 
 Even so, he ventured from his basement in search of his parsimonious heretic of a brother....
 “Stanley?” he asked,shutting the vending machine door. The twin was found sitting at the register, counting his day’s winnings.
 “Hey,bro!” he said, sea-tanned face splitting into a grin.
 “I need help,” Ford muttered,pulling a chair over to the counter and sitting down. 
 Stan set the money down,giving his brother his full attention. It wasn’t like him to ever ask for help. Even when they were on the Stan-O-War II.
 “I....I have feelings for (Y/N)....” he awkwardly began,hoping Stanley would understand. 
 Slowly, Stan began to smirk,before full acclaim filled the room. 
 “Finally, you admit it. It’s been over thirty years!” he laughed. Ford’s face was set aflame. He knew his brother wasn’t being callous, but he still felt somewhat ashamed for him to take this long to bring up the gall to tell her.
   Seeing Ford’s impression of a tomato, Stanley laughed again quietly,before,”Look,Poindexter, just go out there,hike up your big boy panties,  and tell her. She feels the same way...even though I don’t really understand, I am the better looking twin!” He grinned,winking. Which earned him an eye-roll from Ford.
 Still unsure, Ford, paused before the door, before Stan got fed up and just pushed him out to where (Y/N) was sitting with Dipper and Mabel. 
 “-I’m trying to nail that quack reporter for his actions,” She was saying. Stanford didn’t really understand what kind of conversation  he’d managed to walk into, but just hearing her voice, he’d instantly felt relieved. 
 “Hey, (N/N)?” he asked, nervousness seeping into his pores.
 “Hey, Ford!” she smiled brightly,turning to him. He stared at her for a moment, lost in her (E/C) eyes, before the awkward silence was broken by the angel he’d fell in love with.
 “What’s up?” she asked, not at all perturbed by the awkward silence. (She’d gotten used to it fairly quickly since Ford himself was such a cute, awkward person.)
 “I....um...I have to confess something,” he stuttered out, not meeting her eye for fear of peeing himself. He didn’t understand. He could take on demons and other horrifying creatures, but with a mere glance from (Y/N),his knees would buckle and he’d be a total loss for words.
 The girl raised a brow, signaling for him to continue....so he did.
 “I want...um...I would love.. gah,screw it! I’M IN LOVE WITH YOU!!” he yelled,startling (Y/N) and the younger twins.
 It was quiet until- “OH MY GOSH,GRUNKLE FORD!!!!!”
 (Y/N)’s face tinted pink.
 “Kids,” she said shakily,”Please give us some privacy.”
 They did as told, making their way to the house. It wasn’t long before she saw two heads pop up over the window sill. 
 Rolling her eyes and grinning, she rushed over to Ford,tackling him in a fierce hug. They both landed with a thud,before surprised giggles filled the air.
 “I love you too,Ford,” (Y/N) said, still grinning before pulling him to her by the front of his overcoat. Their lips met. The kiss was sweet and passionate, the  both of them marveling at how long it took for them to get to this point.
 They disconnected, resting their foreheads on each other’s shoulder, and quietly grinning.
 “(Y/N), I’m so sorry it took me so long,” Ford finally said,breaking the silence.
 He was met with another kiss.
 “It’s alright,you dork,” she said, still grinning.
 It may have taken forever, but she finally felt truly wanted.
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askthestans · 1 year
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Dear Stanford Pines.
Remember your brother Stanley was running for office as a candidate for mayor? If you were selected as candidate instead, what do you think about what could have happened?
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Stanford: I have always despised politics and politicians. They all need truth teeth permanently installed in their mouths, if you ask me. But if I hadn't been so busy trying to fix the rift problem last summer, I would have run for office, as well. Gravity Falls has been a good town to me, and after the chaos my work has brought upon it, it would have been an honor to make up for my mistakes as its most humble servant.
I would have focused on protecting both the people and the supernatural from each other, and the outside world. I would have given greater funding to the schools and library. I would remove every symbol of Bill Cipher around the town.
And most importantly, I’d have had statues erected of both Fiddleford and my brother as town and world heroes, right in the center of main street. Of course, it wouldn’t have said anything about what they did specifically - hence the ‘Never Mind All That’ act - but history should never forget them.
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Stanley: I'm still a little upset that my criminal record got me canned as mayor. Yeesh, as if tons of other politicians have never done any crime! Hell, most of 'em still do it while they're in office! So what if I've got mob ties? So what if I've smuggled pugs and spent some nights in the big house? What matters is that my heart is big, and it's always in the right place. Also, an eagle kissed me. Can any other politician say that? No. Didn't think so.
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Stanford: Actually, now that I think of it... you probably would have made a great mayor, Stan.
Stanley: What, you really think so?
Stanford: Of course! Remember when we got stuck on that Caribbean island after the Stan-O’-War II had run into rocks?
Stanley: Oh man, the one with that freak who hunted humans, right?
Stanford: Yes. We wouldn’t have survived without you!
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Stanley: *His cheeks flush a little pink.* Oh, well... what can I say? All I did was convince the other people gettin’ hunted with us that turnin’ on each other was crap, and we should focus our efforts on the jerk in the mansion that put us there in the first place. I mean, why direct your anger at other people who had nothin’ to do with why you’re stuck somewhere bad? Why not direct it at the schmuck who actually needs his clock cleaned?
Stanford: By the end of the night, you were in that hunter’s chair in his expensive estate, smoking his pipe by his fireplace-
Stanley: Most expensive tobacco I ever had the pleasure of puffin’.
Stanford: And afterwards, you convinced the others to help everyone fix each other’s boats and share supplies so that we could all get off that cursed island.
Stanley: Heh, that was nothin’! ‘Sides, I did his belongings a favor. Man wasn’t classy enough to live in a place that nice with stuff that fancy. I was just sad we had to leave it. I love the Stan-O’-War, don’t get me wrong. But a mansion on a Caribbean island? Sure was cozy.
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Stanford: That was ingenious, charismatic, righteous leadership, Stan. See what I mean? A perfect mayor.
Stanley: Aw, well... honestly, the only way I’d ever run for anything ever again is if you were my running mate. Forget bein’ a mayor! Just think if we were president and vice president? I’d do the talkin’, and you’d do the thinkin’. We’d be unstoppable! And we’d legalize mostly everything! Pines and Pines 2024.
Stanford: And give NASA a way bigger budget!
Stanley: And redecorate the White House with sad clown paintings!
Stanford: And don’t forget, we’d-
Stanley: Hah! I know exactly what you’re gonna say, Ford. Hold on, wait.
*They both give each other a knowing look. It’s one of those rare, nearly twin telepathy moments.*
Stanley and Stanford: Declare ourselves the official Kings of New Jersey!
*They both erupt into laughter.*
Stanley: Also, I’d make Congress duke it out in boxing matches on the House and Senate floors. And broadcast it on live TV! Teddy would be so proud!
Stanford: Do you think they’d let me get my official portrait painted with me flipping my two middle fingers?
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prettyinpwn-blog · 1 year
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Truest Reflection (Short Story for Stanuary 2023 Week One: Mystery)
Stan and Ford start off their Stan-O'-War II adventure by returning to where it all began.
Excerpt:
“Do you remember this place, Stanley?”
Stan nodded. He wasn’t sure he liked it, though. Like Ford wearing both red and blue, it confused him. Or Ford calling him a hero. It looked right at times, and it sure sparkled pretty, but then the fog came and muddied things, tattering the landscape into patchwork pieces, never one whole, coherent picture.
It got worse the closer they got to that place. Dread anchored in Stan’s chest at the sight of that faded brick building on the first paved street after the sand. It still had the yellow and white stripe awning - although sunken now - and the mezuzah by the door. But the neon ‘PHONE PSYCHIC’ sign in the window was black and dead, and the other sign that once read two full words now simply said ‘P____S P____S’, a nudging whisper of what once had been.
(Happy Stanuary 2023! This is my submission for the first week’s theme: Mystery. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it. All hail the Grunkle with the world’s biggest heart. <3)
(Also, if you like listening to music while writing/reading, I had this song playing on repeat while I wrote this short story. I felt it fit well for Stan in the first days of his Stan-O’-War II adventures with Ford).
If you prefer to read on AO3, here is a link to that version: https://archiveofourown.org/works/44034489
Full short story under the cut ---
Truest Reflection
Silver fog fingers twined through its bow rails, down the gunwales, then flowed back over the boat’s side. Afar, this ship had no identity; a vague shadow upon the waters. But if one got close enough, they could piece out part of a name: -----O’-War II in bold white lettering over a red line freshly painted across the hull.
The prior day’s storm had made for an imperfect first night, lightning shattering the sky with glitchy white fractures, thunder rumbling so loud it reverberated in their chests. By morning the storm had passed, leaving Stanley and Stanford Pines to wake up to a bloody dawn, the fog the last sinking clutches of a dead monster.
Stanley found himself at their breakfast nook table in the ship’s cabin, right hand wrapped around a mug of steaming coffee, left hand twirling a puzzle piece.
He’d been working on the puzzle laying before him on the table for years now. It was some musty thing from the sixties, so faded - even torn in places - that it was hard to tell what it was depicting. He’d scrounged it up from his bedroom closet back at the Mystery Shack before he and Ford had left on this adventure, having forgotten it was even there until then. 
But he’d felt oddly attached to it. It’d been a puzzle from their childhood home, and it was something to do between port launch and their first expedition of “plunging headfirst into the world’s greatest anomalies”, as Ford had described it. 
As if the world's greatest anomaly wasn't already on their boat. A man who had forgiven him for all he'd done. Now that was a true mystery.
Two lights carved through the cabin’s morning dark. One buzzed over Stanley’s head, trapping him in a cold, rectangular cage of gray. The other - gold - surrounded Ford as he toiled over a pan on the stove. 
Pancakes and eggs, buttery and warm. A smell like that could get Stan grinning.
But Stan’s smile faded when he glanced back down to the puzzle, and a mumble scratched through his throat. There seemed to be a part or two missing. Or was there? He glanced at the piece in his hand, rotating it, then back at the wretched, patchwork thing. Then at the other pieces.
Nothing fit quite right.
“How are your memories holding up this morning, Stan?” Ford asked, deep voice piercing through the radio static tune of sizzling breakfast.
Stan put the puzzle piece down and crossed his arms, then leaned back and closed his eyes. Ever since the Bill Cipher incident and, you know, the near end of the whole damn world, his memories had been slowly returning. At first, in strong surges, going down and as dizzy as easy shots of vodka. But then the recollection had slowed to sips. 
The worst part was not even that, but the futile attempts he’d made at trying to fit those fire-bitten scraps back together into one whole story.
“I dunno,” Stan finally replied with a shrug. “They’re there. They don’t always make the most sense, though.”
Ford’s brows furrowed. When he noticed Stan had caught his sour expression, he quickly switched it to a faint smile. Stan remembered that habit of his brother’s, at least. It was the kind Ford pulled when he forgot he had to give perfect responses for a moment, then tried to cover his human slip up quick. It was hard to truly know what Ford was thinking at any given moment for that reason. A leftover from childhood, Stan knew.
“I’m sure they’ll come back in time,” Ford said. “It’s miraculous that any survived. Even more so that so many came back quickly. It’s a good sign.”
A good sign, or just a wishful one? Stan replied in thought, but knew better than to grumble it out loud. He had to admit he was just as recklessly wishful as Ford.
“There’s somethin’ weird about it all, though.”
A plate was set in front of Stan by a six-fingered hand. Ford then settled down himself to eat across the pinewood table from Stan.
For a moment, Stan reflected on how strange it was to see Ford wearing that blue hoodie. Ford was supposed to be in a trench coat, wasn’t he? Or did he wear blue, but on his shoes? And why was his turtleneck red? Wasn’t that Stan’s color? So maybe it was ‘right’ for Ford to be wearing blue? Stan supposed no one really owned colors, but-
He had to look away from Ford. Sometimes just staring at his brother gave him a headache.
 “What’s weird?”
Stan tried to gather scraps of understanding to explain it just right as they started to dig into their meal. Frustration bubbled and brewed in his gut until he just bit his lip and spat out a half-assed answer:
“Who am I?”
Ford’s resulting expression was that of a school teacher whose favorite student had failed to answer a question they’d just gone over the answer for together.
“Damn it, I don’t mean that, like, literally. I get that I’m Stanford-”
“Stanley.”
Stan pinched his nose’s bridge. He’d done it again. Why couldn’t he get that simple fact right? “Stanley, sorry.”
“You did use Stanford for years. That’s probably why it’s tripping you up so much.”
“Let me put it this way: I know little parts of who Stanley Pines is, but it’s like a mystery I only have little clues to. I don’t mean stupid shit like where I lived, my favorite song, whatever. I mean… who was Stanley Pines? A good guy? A bad guy? You told me about all the crime, but-”
“Stanley Pines is a hero.”
Ugh. Why did that send a shiver down his spine? “That word makes me wanna puke.”
“That’s probably because…” Ford trailed off, pausing mid-lift of his fork to his mouth to glance down to the side. “Never mind. Here’s a question: who’s the smartest person you know?”
“Well, I don’t call you Poindexter for no reason.”
“Exactly. So if I say you’re a hero, then…?”
“That’s just one person sayin’ it. Doesn’t make it true.”
“Dipper and Mabel say it. Soos says it. Stanley, the whole damn town of Gravity Falls says it.”
“Then why does it feel so wrong? It’s like you wearin’ blue. It’s weird!”
Ford glanced down at his hoodie. “Weird? Stan, that’s always been my favorite color.”
“But you always wear red!”
“I started wearing red because…”
Ford sighed and set his fork down, took his glasses off, and put his face in his hands. Then he looked back up at Stan, brown eyes lined with more bags than usual. For a moment, Stan wondered if it really had been the storm last night that had kept Ford tossing and turning endlessly in the bunk atop his own.
A hand found Stan’s shoulder. Those six fingers squeezed harder than they ever had before. “We’re going to put your memory back together exactly the way it was, no matter what it takes. Then you’ll see I’m right. You’ll see just how much of a hero Stanley Pines really is.”
“Yeesh, quit usin’ that word! It gives me the willies.”
“Never.”
They finished their breakfast in silence. Stan insisted on cleaning up since Ford had done the cooking. Meanwhile, Ford headed to the stern to steer the ship. 
When he got back, Stan had finished with the dishes and was already back at the nook, though he’d pushed the puzzle aside for now.
“Where we headed today, anyway?”
Ford adjusted his glasses over a smile. “I’m glad you asked! I know I said we’d head to the Arctic Ocean for our first dive into the unknown, but I wanted to stop somewhere on the way. It’s somewhere I think you’ll recognize. I thought it might help jog your memories even more before we officially set off.”
---
Hot Belgian waffles, Stan never thought he’d be standing on these shores again. Their boat was moored and bobbing behind them at a long dock stretching out into the waters. Ahead was Ford, his hand in Stan’s, dragging him forward like an excited child.
A blue and white lighthouse to the north beamed into the fog wreathing around the pier, its lens spinning, trying to pierce the murk and make sense of the coast’s whole outline. Smaller lights in fairytale colors responded at its feet; amusement rides coming to life as day died to dusk.
Stan stared at the ferris wheel the longest, watching it turn in place again and again and again. An eye with a never ending cycle of ups and downs, moving but never really shifting back or forward.
As always in September, the Glass Shard Beach skies were overcast and sprinkling, and the air a damp, cloying blend of salt, fish, and popcorn.
“Do you remember this place, Stanley?”
Stan nodded. He wasn’t sure he liked it, though. Like Ford wearing both red and blue, it confused him. Or Ford calling him a hero. It looked right at times, and it sure sparkled pretty, but then the fog came and muddied things, tattering the landscape into patchwork pieces, never one whole, coherent picture.
It got worse the closer they got to that place. Dread anchored in Stan’s chest at the sight of that faded brick building on the first paved street after the sand. It still had the yellow and white stripe awning - although sunken now - and the mezuzah by the door. But the neon ‘PHONE PSYCHIC’ sign in the window was black and dead, and the other sign that once read two full words now simply said ‘P____S P____S’, a nudging whisper of what once had been.
Ford wrapped an arm around Stan’s shoulders. That part felt nice. That warm embrace, the smell of Old Spice and aged books as his brother drew close. “Thoughts?”
Stan glanced sideways and found one half of a smile on his twin’s face. The other half - his own mouth - should have been the balancing second upcrest of that smile. Stan knew that. But his lips betrayed what he should have felt here, sinking lower than they had all day.
Stan stared at the building again. “I’m… not sure.”
“You know what this place is, though, right? You at least remember that much?”
Stan’s hands tightened to fists. “Yeah. I do.”
“Great! Let’s go inside.”
“Inside?”
Ford had already started to reach for the red and gold door. He paused and turned around. “Is that okay?”
Stan bit his lip. He couldn’t remember why he hated this place. The memories surrounding that sour taste weren’t even full scraps, just tiny bits like ashes on his eyelashes every time he blinked, dotting his vision with fuzzy holes of gray.
“Come on. Take my hand. We’ll go in together.”
Ford grabbed onto Stan and pulled him forward. Stan followed with hesitant bootsteps. His feet met the threshold. 
The crumbling brick had been steady moments before. But doom and guilt and anguish struck Stan’s heart like a duffel bag of lead, and he collapsed to the ground like he had all those years ago, concrete grating into his back, the shadow of a familiar man rising above him in the doorway. 
Then came a push that sent him down a hole so deep it took him thirty years to drag himself back out.
The gray holes in his memory reawaken to orange fangs of flame, biting in reverse. How could a burning photograph put a picture back together?
“All you ever do is lie and cheat, and ride on your brother's coattails!”
Those words chisel sharp into his tombstone heart. Ford’s above him again, a ghost of a disappointed echo staring down.
“Stanford! Tell ‘im he’s bein’ crazy!”
The curtains draw closed, blocking out the light. Dust gathers on them. Thirty years of it.
“Stanford, don’t leave me hangin’...”
“Stanley, I’m right here!”
A lie. The curtains were still closed, because they were never reopened even after all these years. Why would he expect them to be? He didn’t deserve for them to open and to see the light again. 
There were ashes beyond them. Or was it snow? He slept on that couch in the shadows for days after as the dust fell around him and buried him, his eyes unblinking, his arms crossed stiff over his chest. A perfect grave for Stanley Pines. He'd just burned himself alive to bring Stanford back from the dead, after all. 
“I don’t need you! I don’t need anyone!”
“Don’t push me away! Stanley! Stanley!”
The thunder of that familiar voice clapped him back to awareness. 
He was no longer on the ground. There was warmth and hair and scratchy stubble beside his face, tangling with his own in indistinguishable strands of silver, and two arms wrapped around his waist, nearly squeezing the breath out of him.
“Wha..?” Stan slurred.
Ford - in his late fifties again - reluctantly released from the hug, but still kept his hands on Stan’s shoulders. “Stanley, are you okay?”
“I… what happened? I was fine ‘til you went through that bright door.”
Ford glanced at the shop’s door, face warped with confusion. It was anything but bright after years of rust and rot.
He turned back to Stan and smiled anyway. Deep and genuine, not a worry covering smile. “It was one of your spells. You’ve had them before. But don’t worry.” Ford hugged him again. “I always make sure to stay with you until they’re over.”
“Why did you help me back up? You didn’t do that the first time.”
“What? I always help you back up after your spells.”
Stan shook his head. “Sorry… brain fog.”
“It’s alright. I should be the one apologizing, actually.” Ford looked up at the building again, then back to Stan, his eyes squinched. “I shouldn’t have brought you here in the first place. I thought it might help more of your memories return, but maybe this step is too much for now?”
“Well…” Stan looked up at the building himself. Yeah, this place hurt, but a deeper part of him told him he had every right to be here. To walk back in that door. It turned the shame in his gut into a little ember of anger. “It’s fine. Let’s go in.”
Ford grabbed his hand. “Stanley, are you sure? I don’t want to cause another of your spells again.”
“I’ll be fine, Ford. ‘Sides, I gotta show you how a real criminal trespasses on private property.” Stan chuckled and cracked his knuckles. “I’ve been wanting to see this dump again for years.”
“Oh. You have?”
“Maybe comin’ back here will help me put together who Stanley Pines really was?”
“Stan, I already told you, you’re a hero.”
“Don’t think I don’t remember how pops threw me out.”
Ford’s eyes widened. A response tried to crawl from his throat multiple times, but no words managed to escape.
“Dad tossed me into the street, and you let me leave. What kind of hero is treated like that by their own damn family?”
“Stanley…”
“Whatever. Call me whatever you want. But I don’t believe you.”
“Why would I lie to you, Stan? Look, that whole night was-”
Stan pushed past Ford and walked inside.
The shelves and glass cases were still there, albeit covered with dust instead of mismatched items. Even the barf green wallpaper was the same, tattered in long strips over wood panels and creaky floor.
“Yeesh! What even happened to this dump? Looks worse than it did when we were kids.”
“Ma and dad lost it in that recession in the early eighties. They moved in with Shermie after that.”
“Good ol’ Sherm.”
Stan pictured a man that resembled their mother more than they ever had, nose aquiline, hair a shade darker, and his frame slighter like Ford’s. What little he did remember of Shermie was a much taller, older figure in a navy uniform. Someone that gave him affectionate noogies with tattooed arms, taught him to swim and ride a bike, and “scared” monsters out of his and Ford’s closet.
“We’ll need to check in with him at some point, too.”
“Think he’ll punch, or hug me?”
“Yes.”
They shared a chuckle.
“So, what happened to Ma and Dad, anyway? Do I wanna know?”
Ford hesitated for a long while after that question. It wasn’t until they went up the stairs that an answer finally came out. Stan looked up as Ford spoke, paused on the last step behind him. It was strange to see Ford’s face outlined in the fading, ghostly light from the front window. The familiar golden wallpaper behind him fit right, though.
Stan stayed in the shadows of the stairwell. He didn’t belong up there with Ford in the gold and light. 
“They died after I disappeared. You were the one that told me about them, actually.”
“Oh.”
“I bet they’d be pretty proud of you, though.”
No. Stan knew that instinctively. Ford was the son to be proud of, with some scraps left over for Shermie’s white picket fence and two kids. Stan glanced over to the living room cabinet. There were never trophies or military awards with the name ‘Stanley Pines’ on them there.
Stan walked to the front window by the large dead neon eye. 
Closed. Never blinking ever again.
He stands above the casket, the walls of it as velvet red as her lipstick. Gray hair falls in careful waves down her shoulders. Then there’s the peace on her face. No one living ever looks that calm, especially not Ma, who guzzles coffee like fish drink water. And she doesn’t smell comforting like she used to - like incense and Virginia Slims and Charlie perfume.
All her traces are gone. Cleaned and embalmed and made so perfect it’s untrue and disgusting.
At his side stands the man who looks like him. He isn’t right, either. A black suit has taken the place of the yellow one. 
“They’re both dead now, Ford.”
That’s not his name. But Stanford nods. Stanley is dead, remember? His gravelly voice has been buried by a smoother, deeper one, scrubbed of its Jersey swank, polished to academic, elevated perfection. It was funny how the less Ford was like Dad, the more Dad was proud of him.
He has another finger now, too, made of styrofoam stuffed into a black glove. Thank God it’s Winter, otherwise it’d have caught some stares. Now he knows how his brother felt trying to hide it all the time.
But Winter…
Why did snow always surround death?
“I know, Dad.”
“That idiot broke her heart, you know.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“She was never the same after he left. First was the asthma. She stopped eating much at all. But she held on for years ‘til the can-”
Dad was never a man of many words. But few could choke that thick throat of his with a lump like that. Stanford puts a reluctant arm around him. To his surprise, Dad leans into it.
“She did Tarot readings on it every night, you know? Stupid cards always said Stanley’d be back here. Always. Never did, though.”
“Did she really miss Stan that much?”
A nod. “Then the crash happened. It was seein’ that newspaper article that did her in. I just know it.”
Breath catches in Stanford’s throat. “I’m sorry.”
“What are you sorry for?”
“Maybe… maybe if I’d been around her more, she would have missed Stanley less?”
“She knew how important your work was to you, Ford. Nah, if anyone’s to blame, it’s Stanley. He was the hub of this wheel. When he left, it spun outta control and broke apart.”
He looks at Ma in the casket again. Her image blurs and the rain starts to fall. “Yeah. You’re right.”
They both let the silent rain fall together for a while. Every glance to his side is a glance into a chisel-jawed, teary mirror. 
Then comes a question that hurts to even try to ask: “Did you ever miss Stanley, too?”
A long pause. A shrug. “Maybe a little.”
Flowers and velvet and cleanliness shifted back to dust and torn wallpaper. Stan blinked, still standing over his mother’s table by the window, fingers death-gripping the wood and clawing marks in the dust.
Those Old Spice and aged book arms were around him again.
“Ford?”
“Oh, thank God, you’re back! You blanked out again.” Ford pulled out of the hug. He looked at Stan’s face with concern. “Are you… crying?”
Stan shrugged. “Maybe a little.”
Ford tried to hug him again, but every attempt made the casket and roses come back. Stan tore out of Ford’s grasp and walked off to the side, into another room. There, he found the final piece of furniture his parents left behind.
A three-panel mirror. Stan stopped in front of it, and he saw himself in the light with the gold wallpaper behind him this time, instead of Ford. Cracks etched down the side panels, but the middle mirror was in perfect condition.
“Hey Ford? Got a science question.”
Ford stopped sifting through a stack of moth-eaten comic books in the corner. “Yes, Stan?”
Stan gazed into the mirrors. Three versions of himself stared back, two from different angles, one from face on. They showed a mystery he didn’t recognize, with a red cap on its ashen hair, its white shirt blotched see-through with tears under a long leather coat.
The left panel looked like someone’s beloved son. The right, like a washed-out criminal.
But the one in the middle...
“If you’re lookin’ into different mirrors at the same time, which is the truest reflection?”
Ford raised a brow and he chuckled. “Well, they’re all true. They’re just reflecting light from different perspectives.”
“All Stan, hm?”
That was when Stanley Pines lifted his left hand, smiled at it, and pulled it back in a fist.
Every question mark needed a hole at the bottom to make it complete, right?
---
Stan was back in the breakfast nook on the ship again that night, a wide grin on his face, left hand outstretched. Antiseptic slathered cool on his bloody, cut-up knuckles as six fingers worked over them.
“I don’t know why you’re always hurting yourself, Stanley,” Ford said as he wrapped bandages around Stan’s hand.
Stan chuckled from deep in his gut. “Dunno. Still think I’m a hero? You’re the one always fixing things and patching me up.”
Ford laughed. “Of course you are, Stan. We've gone over this a thousand times.”
They spent the rest of the night anchored in the Glass Shard harbor, surrounded by fog and sparkling lights, some from the pier behind them, millions of others reflected on the sea ahead of them.
By the next morning, the fog and shadows had finally dissipated, and the ship’s full form and identity were unveiled under the bright golden light as it sailed out, the first four-letter word of its name no longer obscured.
Ford made breakfast once more. As the oatmeal warmed on the stove, he took a seat across from Stan at the nook.
“Working on that puzzle again? I thought you’d given up on it?”
Stan shrugged. “I kinda did.”
“Well, I don’t mean to brag, but I do have a mind for mysteries. If you don’t mind, can I help you solve it?”
Stan looked up at Ford and - seeing his reflection in his twin’s glasses - grinned.
“I think you already did.”
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