featheraskblog

[featheraskblog]

Feather's story follows canon quite closely up to the portal being activated. The difference between canon and this universe is that Feather was admist an assanation attempt directly before getting pulled through, and her aim with a gun specifically curated to kill her Bill exclusively landed true. Bill died before she got forcibly re-introduced to her home dimension.

She didn't punch Stan once dragged through- though they were keyed up on adrenaline and got in a verbal altercation. Even so, once the first night came and she finally settled down, she came to realize a lot about their new situation.

During her thirty years in fight and flight, of being alone, she learned a lot of things about themself though. One is that she's indeed a woman. Another? That she's far more comfortable with general silence and solitude than in group settings. And three, that their research is the only true thing she wishes to pursue even now. Even so, Feather chose to stick around for a bit. Just to see if they'd change their mind.

So, after spending the rest of the summer clashing but bonding with their family as well, after trying and failing to integrate back into the norms of society as a whole, she simply chose to... leave after bidding the kids farewell with Stan at the end! It was basically the same just without Bill and without Weirdmaggeden.

She stays in contact with Stan, Mabel, and Dipper over the phone still, but she has a lot about her home dimension she wants to find out for themself before settling down. So in her own RV, she travels the world and sniffs out anomalies with the thirst of a young bloodhound! They've still got it!

To set the scene, this was a closeted woman in the 1970's who's used to feeling outcasted. She may not have figured out the specifics of her identity at that point, but she did have enough awareness to not identify herself as cishet. A loner, she rarely really made deep connections. She was too busy trying to rake in her degrees to pay others much mind.

Except her dorm mate, that is.

Setting the scene further, Fiddleford was a gay man who was far more people savvy despite his eccentric nature. When she met him she identified as an openly gay man- but would later go back in and marry Emma-May, have Tate, etc.

He was deeply attracted to Feather. She did not notice.

Feather's conception of friendship and romance as a concept is hard for her to navigate. It always has been, and on behalf of the few particularly close friendships/non familial relationships she's had always having some undercurrent of tension? She probably will always have a hard time with this.

When Fiddleford would take her on dates, cuddle, and teasingly call her terms of endearment, she really did just think they were deep friends. When they would kiss on the lips she just thought that made their bond deeper. She never saw the intimacy as innately romantic, and Fiddleford thought she did.

And when they eventually drifted apart and she was sent notice of Fiddleford's marriage, place of residence, and child, she felt something. But it wasn't like a vexed lover or even jealousy. She was just rather melancholy but grew to accept it, not thinking much of their own feelings past the obvious 'well, in that case, we probably couldn't kiss anymore even if we wanted to. It'd just be scummy.'

And when he jumped at the opportunity to help with the portal, she didn't know that *he* saw a romantic subtext there.

So they were kind of a thing. But not quite.

The first of Feather's many deeply ingrained special interests is pigeons. From an extremely young age she always adored pigeons, sought out information on pigeons, tried to pet pigeons (often leading to small pecking wounds), and even wanted to keep pigeons as pets. Something that she hadn't been able to do as a child or young adult, and was too busy fighting for her life though her adulthood to even really consider.

A part of their earliest difficulties with other kids was the fact that she would fixate on thsi particular interest- about an animal seen as vermin- and would insist on and on and on about how they're actually rather cool. About how humans failed them, about all the things they had once been able to do when relying upon the one they'd been domesticated by.

Feather had grown to see the parallels between the treatment of pigeons and her brother within her early thrities, and has grown to feel a mild sense of irony there now that she's in her sixties.

Pigeons, who were thrown out of a comfortable environment once their perceived use expired in favor of something sparkly and new. Without the tools needed to thrive.

Stanley, who was thrown out and unable to even get a diploma. No prospects, told to make it work, all while Feather was able to achieve multiple PHDs while graduating Summa Cum Laude.

Pigeons, who struggle when left to their own devices and are often treated with disdain in spite of their own determination to survive.

Her little brother, who like them had been treated with some level of disdain growing up (and who struggled through his twenties, homeless). Who kept going in spite of it all.

Two things she loves dearly, that have entered her now calm life. Keeping pigeons upon feeling safe to do so and keeping her brother in communication are two different things, though. They are both very important to her, nonetheless.some of Feather's earliest bonding with Mabel were regarding 'girls night's. basically, they would do eachother's hair, knit sweaters for eachother, have fun with makeup, all that jazz. as years passed this shifted to Mabel and her additionally hand-making cosmetics together as well.

her bonding with Dipper tends to be on the basis of research and information exchange. Dipper still looks up to them, even though the younger twins are currently nineteen. he has his own journals that he's making, inspired by Feather's.Feather isn't sure she could ever say that they felt loved as a child. At least, not by their parents.

Caryn was friendly. Caryn was fun. Caryn was where they and Stanley got their mischievous natures from. But she never really 'clicked' with Feather. It was like Caryn and Feather were working from a different rule set, oftentimes leaving one another at a loss for words as to how to continue conversations.

It didn't help that there was a constant, nagging envy they felt when they looked at her. The very same envy of which was reflected right back to Feather, though for very different reasons. Love was there between them, as was a pitiful sort of earnest affection that faded as Feather grew into herself and away from Caryn. But never true understanding.

Caryn was always Stanley's... but Sherman was Filbrick's. Veteran Sherman, stoic and unreachable. He was eleven years the kids' senior, and any time past six years of age for the twins was met with radio silence from Sherman. They knew of him, but they never *knew* him. Not at this stage, anyways.

Filbrick built up Sherman's accomplishments as an example. A goal. And even though Feather pined for his acceptance, his praise, his love, they never truly got doted on. They never became the best in their father's eyes... just, comparatively better than Stanley.

So if Caryn was Stanley's, and Filbrick was Sherman's, then who was Feather's? Why, Stanley was, of course. Until he destroyed her project, he was hers. He was who she got affirmation, acceptance, *love* from, and even though it wasn't the same as parental affection? For a young child, it was close enough.

Though, not for long.

[featheraskblog]

Day V

Journal entry (?)

As M would say, this was quite the side quest! I have hardly descended into a frenzy like this since my... what, forties? It's almost enough to make me feel like a young lass again.

I have also gotten some sleep. Thankfully, nothing has gone awry within that span of time. Me and the pigeons are all accounted for, as well as the contents of my place of dwelling.

I will make sure to check over the facts that I have gathered, as well as the samples collected. I am thankful to have taken such thorough advantage of an opportunity such as this. Though this specimen may hold distinct uniqueness when compared to the average hybrid, I would argue that this makes the collected data all the more valuable.

(L zdv doprvw zruulhg wkdw pb wuhpru zrxog pdnh wkh ylylvhfwlrq dnlq wr wruphqw. Urqqlh vdlg wkdw vkh glg qrw plqg.)

She has since left my dimension after assuring that her 'rift ripper' has gone unsabotaged. I have ensured that no sign of tampering remains upon my own dwelling, in turn.

I have been given a paper with a cellular phone number by her. She says that it is in case if I wish to stay in contact with her. It will be burned and disposed of promptly.

- Feather F. Pines

(Various sticky notes offer additional notes throughout the pages. The remaining pages of this journal will be used for cross examination with other cases they may find.)

[featheraskblog]

Day IV

Journal Entry V-ID is in regards to an extensive anatomical breakdown of the succubus/fire nymph specimen.

Quality wanes towards the end. However, with some revamping (and, perhaps, better quality sleep), this could be considered quite the scholarly work indeed.

(01:14-16:27)

[featheraskblog]

Journal Entry IV Day Three Interview II Interviewer: Stanford "Feather" Filbrick Pines Interviewee: Pyronica "Ronnie" Cipher 04:25, 0X-XX-20XX

Question: "You mentioned tail docking your first day here. Are there any other beauty standards that are of note in regard to your demon identity?" Answer: "Sociology, huh? You really are a woman of many interests. Love to see it." After some deliberation, she elaborated, "Yeah, there were. I'll tell you that it wasn't really like how humans have it, though. Things got popular, lingered, then faded for some new fad or whatever. No one thing stuck, but stuff that," gestured to her tail, "Just really took off in my era, for some fuckin reason."

Question: "I would presume that being half fire nymph would have given you a rather unique developmental stage?" Answer: "Yup." Her tone was rather dismissive. Upon further probing, she stated, "In my universe, Nymphs typically pop out and mature within like... weeks. Succubi cook low and slow, though. I developed just a little bit quicker than the average human being." Interestingly enough, this conflicts with what information I currently have regarding the life cycle of a Succubus. I will brush up on my own universe's demonology at a later date as to ensure I am not mistaken. (Note; I was, in fact, not mistaken. This fact, as suspected, implies that there can be genetic differences between even the same species and race on the basis of universe alone.) Question: "May I ask how that effected your life prior to leaving your home dimension?" Answer: "And here I thought I was pretty enough for it to be obvious." At the lack of an immediate reaction on my end, she stated, "Pageantry." A vague answer. Her tone indicated a lack of desire to continue down that avenue of questioning, so I chose to move on to the next question. Question: "Is that model not accurate for your universe anymore?" Answer: "I think that answer is obvious." When I requested for her to elaborate regardless, she stated, "Blah blah, supreme rulers, yadda yadda, we're the hot ones now. It's basically a flex to say you look like or act like people in power, even if you're anything but." Though a sociological perspective proved itself intriguing, I figured a more individual focus would be beneficial. (Note; look up what exactly a 'flex' is considered nowadays.)

Question: "Can you tell me the natural abilities that you possess?" Answer: She proceeded to offer me an extensive list of attributes including but not limited to increased durability, increased stamina, immortality, consistent attainment of the same sex, and fire magic (including the immunity to said element, in spite of the fact that she has burn scars upon each limb) of which she attributed to being half fire nymph. Various anecdotes of dubious origin have been offered to back each point up. I have decided to take this list with a grain of salt. When she mentioned fashion ability, I used it as a segue. Question: "I have noticed that you often wear posture collars. I would presume those help your neck endure the pressure of your horns?" Answer: "You presume right, miss ma'am. They also just look good, ya know? Match with my corsets and all." Ronnie seemed content to offer me some other fashion based anecdotes past this point. I get the indication that this is an interest of hers.

Question: To finish it off, "You mentioned that you would allow me to vivisect you earlier. Was that an offer, or simply a joke?" Answer: "Oh yeah, sure. Just make sure to use the prettier knife." Presumably, she said this in reference to the one I keep in my bedside drawer. It is approximately nine inches long and is made of silver. When I stated as such, she indicated that to be a positive aspect considering its intended use. May indicate potential ill-effect upon SPIC-3 demonic entities. "Does a scalpel not suffice?" "Nah, wouldn't be thick enough." Additionally, I would like to note that she has had rapid horn growth in the past few days. Specifically, upon the head and shoulder areas. End of interview, 05:45.

[featheraskblog]

Journal Entry III

Day Two

This day has been more productive than the last. After interviewing Ronnie, I spent enough time dissembling the 'rift ripper' to feel confident regarding its inner workings.

The 'rift ripper' is quite fascinating as a whole. At first glance, it simply presents itself as a sleek, futuristic gun with a blade extension that may be extended from the grip. However, through follow up questioning and deduction, I know how to use and potentially replicate it (though I am wholly lacking in the intention to do so).

As a simple overview for the sake of clarity, there is what seems at first to be a toy gun-reminiscent barrel (that being, a closed one) that is a pure, magically enhanced crystal of some kind. Touching it with my bare hands has led to a few burns and a few errant cuts. However, it is that some salve and a few bandages can not fix.

On the contrary, I damn near slit my wrist open observing the blade! It is enchanted to be strong enough to slice through rifts, though, so that is to be expected. This does go to show that one should always exercise caution when fiddling with the unknown... and that your Grauntie is not the best leading example for such caution. Please do as I say, not as I do.

Also, there seems to be a protected, tinted screen. It shows nothing to me. However, I am of the presumption that my inability to view it is a protective measure. It very likely acts as the routing input for this device when its wiring to the rest of the gun is taken into account- which would make magical binding to the user rather important. This very likely is Ronnie's assigned gun, meaning that any movement noted from it can be directly tied to her.

On the topic of tracking, I found that the gun was chipped today. The tracking device in question has also been reverse-engineered, then promptly disposed of. I am under no obligation to preserve the gun in its entirety, after all. I simply must ensure its efficiency is retained.

Past my research findings, nothing particularly noteworthy has happened.

- Feather F. Pines

Journal Entry II

Day Two Interview (I?) Interviewer: Stanford "Feather" Filbrick Pines Interviewee: Pyronica "Ronnie" Cipher 05:30, 0X-XX-20XX Question: "Is there anything about the 'rift ripper' that you can elaborate upon?" Answer: "Nah." When the question was pressed, "Engineerin isn't my topic of interest, girl." It was quickly evident that this line of questioning would not amount to much. I switched to an alternate but similarly relevant question group.

Question: "You have been stated to be universe SPIC-3's second in command. If you do not mind me asking, what does that entail?" Answer: "Whatever you think Cayenne does, think of what would most directly help them do it without minimizing their authority. That's probably what I do." Purposefully vague- indicator of discomfort, or guilt? Present tense noted, though not pointed out. Though it may have been a slip up, this indicates that her allegiance may still lean towards Cayenne. Her tone and body language remained languid. Question: "That was rather vague. Is there a motive to your evasiveness? Or are you simply uncomfortable?" Answer: "I'm just sayin how it is. Can't exactly list off a whole role's worth of responsibilities on the spot." Brief frown noted. Eye contact evaded. Question: "You mentioned that Cayenne would not follow you here, insinuating my universe as a safe zone of sorts. Why is that?" Answer: "Don't worry about it, old lass." Tone, disinterested. Tail flicked- sign of rising irritation? A switch of topic was considered a productive choice after she then verbally expressed her disinterest in 'making her interview about them'. I chose to move onto more personal line of questioning.

Question: "You have a different appearance compared to most 'Pyronica's I have seen. If you do not mind me asking, is there a reason behind that?" Answer: "Transformative powers. Helluva thing." Tone, smug? Interviewee seemed more receptive, so I chose to follow up on this in particular.

Question: "Would you describe yourself as proficient at transformative magic?" Answer: "Mhm. Results typically don't stick round like this if you aren't." She gestured to her chitinous hands as she said this. Then, presumably in response to my interest, she made her hair grow approximately 92cm as a simple example of her transformative magic. No additional exhaustion can be noted after the fact. - It stayed at that length until she cut it short at 18:39.

Question: "Further regarding the topic of your transformative powers, does exercising them alter your body on a genetic level? Or just physically?" Answer: "I wouldn't know." Interviewee seemed genuine in this response, if a bit disinterested. Followed up with an offhand remark. "If it does, then I've gotta be some... crazy bug thing now, huh? I dunno if anything else has this stuff." Question: "Does the chitin replace the bone, or is it simply an additional coating over your hands?" Answer: "Ah, yeah, it replaces the bone." After some brief deliberation, I stated that she may additionally resemble anything from a crustacean to fungus (as well as insects, of course) on behalf of the chitin. She seemed mildly intrigued, but her overall wearied demeanor indicated that this was a good place to end off for this interview. 06:03.

Interviewee seems disengaged in conversation regarding her home universe and leader. Interviewee seems either too uneducated or uninterested to act as an aid regarding my reverse-engineering of her 'rift ripper'. However, she is engaged in topics centered around herself. May be her temperament, or simply her seeking the comfort of familiarity within our unorthodox living situation. Intriguingly enough, she has gone so far as to offer to allow me to perform a live vivisection upon her after wrapping the interview up as to 'further my research'. I am still unsure if that was meant to be a joke. Perhaps time will tell.

Regarding one @ronnieaskblog

[featheraskblog]

Journal Entry II

Day Two

Interview (I?)

Interviewer: Stanford "Feather" Filbrick Pines

Interviewee: Pyronica "Ronnie" Cipher

05:30, 0X-XX-20XX

Question: "Is there anything about the 'rift ripper' that you can elaborate upon?"

Answer: "Nah."

When the question was pressed, "Engineerin isn't my topic of interest, girl."

It was quickly evident that this line of questioning would not amount to much. I switched to an alternate but similarly relevant question group.

Question: "You have been stated to be universe SPIC-3's second in command. If you do not mind me asking, what does that entail?"

Answer: "Whatever you think Cayenne does, think of what would most directly help them do it without minimizing their authority. That's probably what I do."

Purposefully vague- indicator of discomfort, or guilt? Present tense noted, though not pointed out. Though it may have been a slip up, this indicates that her allegiance may still lean towards Cayenne. Her tone and body language remained languid.

Question: "That was rather vague. Is there a motive to your evasiveness? Or are you simply uncomfortable?"

Answer: "I'm just sayin how it is. Can't exactly list off a whole role's worth of responsibilities on the spot."

Brief frown noted. Eye contact evaded.

Question: "You mentioned that Cayenne would not follow you here, insinuating my universe as a safe zone of sorts. Why is that?"

Answer: "Don't worry about it, old lass."

Tone, disinterested. Tail flicked- sign of rising irritation? A switch of topic was considered a productive choice after she then verbally expressed her disinterest in 'making her interview about them'. I chose to move onto more personal line of questioning.

Question: "You have a different appearance compared to most 'Pyronica's I have seen. If you do not mind me asking, is there a reason behind that?"

Answer: "Transformative powers. Helluva thing."

Tone, smug? Interviewee seemed more receptive, so I chose to follow up on this in particular.

Question: "Would you describe yourself as proficient at transformative magic?"

Answer: "Mhm. Results typically don't stick round like this if you aren't."

She gestured to her chitinous hands as she said this. Then, presumably in response to my interest, she made her hair grow approximately 92cm as a simple example of her transformative magic. No additional exhaustion can be noted after the fact.

- It stayed at that length until she cut it short at 18:39.

Question: "Further regarding the topic of your transformative powers, does exercising them alter your body on a genetic level? Or just physically?"

Answer: "I wouldn't know."

Interviewee seemed genuine in this response, if a bit disinterested. Followed up with an offhand remark.

"If it does, then I've gotta be some... crazy bug thing now, huh? I dunno if anything else has this stuff."

Question: "Does the chitin replace the bone, or is it simply an additional coating over your hands?"

Answer: "Ah, yeah, it replaces the bone."

After some brief deliberation, I stated that she may additionally resemble anything from a crustacean to fungus (as well as insects, of course) on behalf of the chitin. She seemed mildly intrigued, but her overall wearied demeanor indicated that this was a good place to end off for this interview. 06:03.

Interviewee seems disengaged in conversation regarding her home universe and leader. Interviewee seems either too uneducated or uninterested to act as an aid regarding my reverse-engineering of her 'rift ripper'. However, she is engaged in topics centered around herself. May be her temperament, or simply her seeking the comfort of familiarity within our unorthodox living situation.

Intriguingly enough, she has gone so far as to offer to allow me to perform a live vivisection upon her after wrapping the interview up as to 'further my research'. I am still unsure if that was meant to be a joke. Perhaps time will tell.

- Feather F. Pines

Regarding one @ronnieaskblog

[featheraskblog]

Journal Entry I

Day One

I have halted my pre-existing obligations to focus on this unique research opportunity. That being, housing an alternate universal fugitive. One day in, and this has already been rather intriguing to say the least.

Pyronica is a name that I've allowed to fall from my conscience. I have no reason to worry about my universe's version of this 'henchmaniac', hence making any grievances regarding her rather worthless on my end. I have ensured that she and the rest will perish with their nightmare dimension, after all.

However, 'Ronnie' has dredged up memories regarding that very specific woman with her presence alone. It is difficult not to compare and contrast her with what I remember of my own Pyronica. In concept, they seem rather similar after all. There's the magenta skin, the half-succubus racial background, and that flair for being forward. That is where the similarities seem to end.

I know 'Ronnie' to be much older than my Pyronica was, but I can't help but ponder if that is the cause of their size differences or not. There are around two feet's worth of inequality, and far more muscle in Ronnie. Additionally, she indeed has a previously mentioned chitinous coverage up to her elbow, unmentioned burn scars over each limb, curlier hair, bigger and more plentiful horns, and a much longer tail.

Disregarding fashion (Ronnie seems to not be quite as much of a nudist as my variant was), those are what can be observed with the naked eye alone... which doesn't even begin to cover the bountiful temperament differences!

I have inquired about the lattermost bodily detail (that being, the tail). Specifically, when she used it to grab a mug of tea. Her response was, as written to accurately portray her dialect style, "What, not used to seein' the real thing? Other gals get em docked, ya know."

Docked! Like a lamb, truly? She laughed when I asked. Moments like these truly make me consider dipping my toes back into demonology, but I do digress.

She has not offered much more than curious conversation thus far despite remaining in close proximity to me. There is no prying on her end, and she hardly seems keen on pushing the boundaries of our agreement. If it were not for the situation surrounding her visit, I may even describe her presence as a pleasant one. Though I am not gullible enough to overlook her capacity to be a threat, at least she is a relatively palatable one.

She allows me to look at her 'rift ripper' under close surveillance. I believe that I will be able to formulate a safeguard against such mechanisms before long. Certainly not before she leaves, but I will gather as much information as I can before that point.

As of this very first day, that is all worthy to note. I will compile a list of questions for her tomorrow. With any luck, that will be a fruitful endeavor.

- Feather F. Pines. regarding one @ronnieaskblog

[featheraskblog]

Feather hasn't had to deal with a demon in months. With a 'henchmaniac' in years. If they had it her way, she never would have for the rest of their waking days.

"You've got somethin I want, girl." The magenta menace states as she sits of the ground elegantly. She's large enough that this, of all things, puts her at eye level with Feather.

"Which is?" The human asks, a hand slowly straying under her pillow.

"You knowww..." Ronnie crows, leaning an elbow onto her mattress and gesturing to the rest of the RV in one big sweep of the arm.

No.

"And I've got somethin you'd... probably, like to have!" She continues, seemingly undeterred by the expression of repulsion they have. The demoness grabs up a gun of her own then holds it out to Feather.

Feather would presume it's an offer to take it if she were a few decades younger and far more gullible.

As it is she merely takes a moment, gazing over the nontraditional build of it (the blade embedded on top, the lack of bullet usage, the screen with seemingly a custom input option...) before speaking. "While your offer is surely a generous one, I will have to decline."

"Pff, damn. Well, I tried it playin nice about it! But that first part wasn't *actually* an offer, ya know?" Ronnie says, stuffing the gun(?) somewhere beyond Feather's view.

"In the sense that you don't have a choice," the demon elaborate, propping a hand up to rest her chin on it as she says, "Because I'm stayin."

"Why, pray tell, would you do that?" Feather asks slowly, wrapping her fingers around the hilt of a dagger.

"Oh, why? Well, that's an easy one," she snickers, then says as casual as a fact, "I'm staying here... *temporarily*, because Cayenne won't destroy the place."

And despite the fact that these words very likely some form of lie or misdirection, Feather feels just as much curiosity as she does displeasure in the face of them.

Something is off.

She felt it all day, that prickling feeling that something's just not quite right.

No matter what device she checked, nothing presented itself as out of the ordinary. Well, nothing past the topic of her own research that is. Even then, the feeling refused to diminish.

Feather found herself on edge throughout their day, even as she went through the motions of the day. Many would say that paranoia is unhealthy. That they should have been soothed at the lack of evidence backing her feelings up.

However... to say that waking up to scalding hot conditions and a demon perched upon her work desk is anything but justification? That would be sorely inaccurate.

@ronnieaskblog

[featheraskblog]

Something is off.

She felt it all day, that prickling feeling that something's just not quite right.

No matter what device she checked, nothing presented itself as out of the ordinary. Well, nothing past the topic of her own research that is. Even then, the feeling refused to diminish.

Feather found herself on edge throughout their day, even as she went through the motions of the day. Many would say that paranoia is unhealthy. That they should have been soothed at the lack of evidence backing her feelings up.

However... to say that waking up to scalding hot conditions and a demon perched upon her work desk is anything but justification? That would be sorely inaccurate.

@ronnieaskblog

[featheraskblog]

The first of Feather's many deeply ingrained special interests is pigeons. From an extremely young age she always adored pigeons, sought out information on pigeons, tried to pet pigeons (often leading to small pecking wounds), and even wanted to keep pigeons as pets. Something that she hadn't been able to do as a child or young adult, and was too busy fighting for her life though her adulthood to even really consider.

A part of their earliest difficulties with other kids was the fact that she would fixate on thsi particular interest- about an animal seen as vermin- and would insist on and on and on about how they're actually rather cool. About how humans failed them, about all the things they had once been able to do when relying upon the one they'd been domesticated by.

Feather had grown to see the parallels between the treatment of pigeons and her brother within her early thrities, and has grown to feel a mild sense of irony there now that she's in her sixties.

Pigeons, who were thrown out of a comfortable environment once their perceived use expired in favor of something sparkly and new. Without the tools needed to thrive.

Stanley, who was thrown out and unable to even get a diploma. No prospects, told to make it work, all while Feather was able to achieve multiple PHDs while graduating Summa Cum Laude.

Pigeons, who struggle when left to their own devices and are often treated with disdain in spite of their own determination to survive.

Her little brother, who like them had been treated with some level of disdain growing up (and who struggled through his twenties, homeless). Who kept going in spite of it all.

Two things she loves dearly, that have entered her now calm life. Keeping pigeons upon feeling safe to do so and keeping her brother in communication are two different things, though. They are both very important to her, nonetheless.

[featheraskblog]

To set the scene, this was a closeted woman in the 1970's who's used to feeling outcasted. She may not have figured out the specifics of her identity at that point, but she did have enough awareness to not identify herself as cishet. A loner, she rarely really made deep connections. She was too busy trying to rake in her degrees to pay others much mind.

Except her dorm mate, that is.

Setting the scene further, Fiddleford was a gay man who was far more people savvy despite his eccentric nature. When she met him she identified as an openly gay man- but would later go back in and marry Emma-May, have Tate, etc.

He was deeply attracted to Feather. She did not notice.

Feather's understanding of friendship and romance as a concept is hard for her to navigate. It always has been, and on behalf of the few particularly close friendships/non familial relationships she's had having always had some undercurrent of tension? She probably will always have a hard time with this.

When Fiddleford would take her on dates, cuddle, and teasingly call her terms of endearment, she really did just think they were deep friends. When they would kiss on the lips she just thought that made their bond deeper. She never saw the intimacy as innately romantic, and Fiddleford thought she did.

And when they eventually drifted apart and she was sent notice of Fiddleford's marriage, place of residence, and child, she felt something. But it wasn't like a vexed lover or even jealousy. She was just rather melancholy but grew to accept it, not thinking much of their own feelings past the obvious 'well, in that case, we probably couldn't kiss anymore even if we wanted to. It'd just be scummy.'

And when he jumped at the opportunity to help with the portal, she didn't know that *he* saw a romantic subtext there.

So they were kind of a thing. But not quite.

[featheraskblog]

Feather's story follows canon quite closely up to the portal being activated. The difference between canon and this universe is that Feather was admist an assanation attempt directly before getting pulled through, and her aim with a gun specifically curated to kill her Bill exclusively landed true. Bill died before she got forcibly re-introduced to her home dimension.

She didn't punch Stan once dragged through- though they were keyed up on adrenaline and got in a verbal altercation. Even so, once the first night came and she finally settled down, she came to realize a lot about their new situation.

During her thirty years in fight and flight, of being alone, she learned a lot of things about themself though. One is that she's indeed a woman. Another? That she's far more comfortable with general silence and solitude than in group settings. And three, that their research is the only true thing she wishes to pursue even now. Even so, Feather chose to stick around for a bit. Just to see if they'd change their mind.

So, after spending the rest of the summer clashing but bonding with their family as well, after trying and failing to integrate back into the norms of society as a whole, she simply chose to... leave after bidding the kids farewell with Stan at the end! It was basically the same just without Bill and without Weirdmaggeden.

She stays in contact with Stan, Mabel, and Dipper over the phone still, but she has a lot about her home dimension she wants to find out for themself before settling down. So in her own RV, she travels the world and sniffs out anomalies with the thirst of a young bloodhound! They've still got it!

[featheraskblog]

Stanley grunts as he digs through his overstuffed closet, excavating box after box from the dust filled depths. Ford is silent, sitting on her chair, gazing over the room that was once hers. At the mattress frame that remains the same. At the unfamiliar pictures and notes over the mirror. It's silent.

She remains still as Stan stands up from a crouch with a grunt. It isn't long before he firmly (but carefully) places a single overfilled box in their lap with a gruff, "There's half."

Half. Mom's. The swallow back heat in their throat as they raise a single shaky, scarred hand, carefully shifting the topmost contents to peek beneath. The flimsy magazines that would sooner dissolve than tear. The bangles and necklaces and earrings- only the ones with real gold. Her tarot cards. Her crystal ball. A yellowed envelope labeled for 'Stanford Filbrick Pines'. And, most damningly, Feather. Her childhood stuffed animal.

It is great if not somewhat innacurate representing a Columba Livia- a pigeon. The parts are rather realistic, all things considered. The patterning as well. Even with an unrealistic orange plummage instead of blue to green to gray, cartoonishly softened proportions, and multicolored mends from Caryn's own hand, she can recognize the image well.

"Just take it." Stan states gruffly, turning back to the still-open closet door. Staring into the mess inside as he grumbles, "it's just going to waste here, anyway."

Take it wherever you go. Don't forget me.

"Ain't no use collecting dust."

Don't let me chain you down.

"Stanley..." She mutters, lowering her hand, setting it to the side of the box.

This isn't spite. This isn't hatred. She doesn't want to waste his efforts. But staying here is like being... trapped all over again. Even Gravity Falls holds a mold they feel simply does not accommodate her. It doesn't feel like anywhere truly could, anymore. Not when they're like this. And that's fine- but she doesn't mean to...

But none of those words come out. All she can say is, "Very well, Stanley."

And with that, the door is shut upon this conversation as well.

And with that, the rest of the day remains as tense as the previous ones.

[featheraskblog]

Hello! I did not expect to come across an alternate variant of my mother on this virtual application! The wonders of the internet never cease to amaze me. I hope you have had a pleasant day. :]

- Feather F. Pines

Oh, how curious!

- Feather F. Pines

https://www.tumblr.com/featheraskblog?source=share

i- oh! Hello-

[featheraskblog]

Ooc:

Hello, this is the Feather ask blog! Here are a few key details regarding submissions + feather before we get started.

No sexually explicit asks, please! Threats/violent ones are fine, just nothing smutty.

If the ask is anonymous, please indicate if it is roleplay/in character.

Regarding Feather...

She is a variant of Stanford Pines! Specifically, a transfem (she/they) sixty-four year old.

Most of her character details will be revealed through tells and cross-posts from the server she's in, so make sure to ask if anything piques your interest!