#-out into Ford's and blah blah blah

[astro-b-o-y-d]

Bill right before he invades Ford's dreams: Damn, bitch, you live like this?

[keeps-ache]

a card :3

[ifbrd]

Does anyone know of a Gravity Falls chapter fic that has a lot of Ford and Mabel bonding?

Will also accept non chapter fic recommendations for Mabel and Ford bonding. I just need more of those two bonding but i like chapter fics because they can keep me busy and reading for days instead of having to find new fics every day haha.

[jesse-pinko]

“Stanley wouldn’t actually be that nice to Fiddleford” “Stan wouldn’t treat Fidds any better than Ford did” WRONG u guys have no vision unlike me and I am exploding your dimension to liberate you so you see the stars (yaoi). Stan wouldn’t be nice to Fiddleford… at first. He would be too wrapped up in his guilt over accidentally pushing Ford into the portal to and preoccupied with getting him back, his defenses are already up from years on the run and he would assume that Fiddleford thinks as little of his intelligence as Ford does. He would be snapping and boorish and difficult to work with, but one day when Fidds gets fed up and begins to angrily storm off, wondering aloud why he’s even there, putting so much time and effort into rescuing someone who wouldn’t have to be rescued if he’d just listened to him in the first place, Stan throws himself in front of the door and begs him to stay and help him save his brother and opens up about their relationship in a panic, and the two warily wind up bonding over their respective complicated feelings about this person who they both deeply resent and desperately miss. And Fidds isn’t bad company, for a hippie, and it’s been so long since Stan has had anyone to talk to at all. And then, when Stan had to cook up a last minute scheme to get them out of some Gravity Falls monster shenanigans, Fidds actually called him brilliant. This guy is a riot! Blah blah getting stoned karaoke night as a euphemism etc etc… but in the harsh light of day it all begins to make sense. He’s just a cheap copy of Stanford to Fiddleford, that’s the role he’s played his entire life, and when he tries to call Fiddleford out on this, Fiddleford does call him stupid. And pigheaded. And… courageous? And creative? And caring?? And one-of-a-kind??? And… a good brother????

[babyblankyerror]

Stanley has moved faraway place where no bad man or bills can come to find him. It's an abadoned house in the woods with lots of creepy jars and books in ancient languages. Whatever. It's better than a car (no offence bb girl).

One faithful afternoon, while strolling through the nearby woods, Stan finds an owl standing in front of his porch in the most creepy way an owl could stand.

So Stanley awkwardly opens the door and let's the owl in.

The next day there's a critter in front of his home, squeaking up a storm. Stan puts some food out for them and somehow they found their way in his home...Okay???

(Or: Enough of turning Stan into different animals... Let's turn everyone else-

All of Gravity Falls probably got cursed into a woodland creature by the witch whose home Stan moved into.

I went with Ford being an owl this time because blah blah wise and smart- Have you seen his fucking face? That is a fucking owl- but anyway. Animals are changeable uwu)

[lovlidollie]

these pics are just the epitome of frat!rafe. he’s constantly manspreading whenever he’s seated, douchey cap either pulled low on his head or flipped backwards. you can always find him wearing a white wifebeater or a tom ford polo, rollie proudly displayed on his wrist. he knows he’s hot and he knows how to use it to his advantage ! he’s such a slut !!! literally ran through lmao there’s not one girl he hasn’t messed with.

he’s got one of three hairstyles; a buzz, an undercut with greasy bangs, or a mullet. and you best believe he pulls all three of them off. frat!rafe is one of those jerks that shows up at sorority bikini carwash fundraisers so he can wolf-whistle at them and wink as he signals them to call him.

vocab consists of diff variations of “bro,” “dude,” “my guy,” “word,” “yo,” and he most definitely overuses the word “like.” he’s the type of guy to call professors by their first name, disrupt the class, and then beg for better grades in the middle of said disrupted class.

prolific snapchat user. snapscore is atrocious and he has streaks going with at least 7 girls at any given time. sends out a ‘u up?’ text at least twice a week. sometimes he’ll leave a girl on delivered for hours - sometimes days - just because he can. when he finally replies it’s usually a blurry snap of his face or a shameless thirst trap with a “mb was busy”.

when a girl finally realises that he’s playing her, he just laughs it off. if they’re upset he says, “i was just messing around,” or “you knew what you were getting into.” he doesn’t take responsibility for any emotional damage because in his head, he never promised anyone anything.

his ig captions .. are something. obviously there’s the infamous ‘grind never stops,’ and a ‘#blessed’. posts gym mirror selfies where he’s flexing his abs, pecs or biceps in a way that seems casual, but in reality he’s spent 20 minutes trying to find the perfect angle and lighting. captions them with things like ‘gains,’ or ‘rest days are for pussies’.

rides around in his obnoxiously loud truck, revving constantly and disturbing everyone in the area. he’s always blasting rap music at full volume, and of course he’s modified the vehicle. the truck’s lifted, with big off-road wheels, a custom exhaust, and a tint that borders on illegal. frat!rafe takes pride in parking it across 2 spots, and he’s always talking about its specs; “blah blah this much horsepower blah blah v8 engine blah blah”. it’s a sore sight at all the parties with the bed of the truck more often than not being used to perform keg stands.

[dark-lord-of-awesomeness]

Au where Stanford is obsessed with anomalies, but the anomalies are obsessed with Stanley instead. Stanley is in deep denial of this, of course, and its driving Stanford mad.

Especially since there is legit no reason for this, no reason at all for Stan to be so magnetic to the weirdness in the world, especially compared to Ford.

He’s tested for magic, nope. Tested dna, tested mental scans, curses, blessings, even his urine that one regrettable time in the midst of sleep deprivation. All negative for any kind of reasoning.

He finds this out due to his studying of the weirdness magnetism law, which leads him to Stanley in Nevada, big fight, big emotional reconciliation, blah, blah, blah.

Long story short, Stan gets dragged to Gravity Falls and only some of the reasons are research related! A win in Stan’s book!

Stan is having a good time, living with his bro, eating regularly trying to ignore Ford’ crazy talk and the fact Ford might(?) be on drugs.

Ford is trying to not feel wounded that everything loves his brother and not him (he legit saw the gnope police ignore his brother’s butterfly traficking, while Ford’s gnome criminal record only grows) but also immensely proud that Stanley fits in to his research.

Also is trying really, really hard to not acknowledge the fact Stan thinks he’s on drugs and keeps giving him knowing nods.

Anyway, hilarious scenarios ensue:

Ford, baffled and slightly angry: That was a leprechaun, a legit leprechaun gave you gold!!

Stan, holding handfuls of gold a short, Irish stranger gave him, giving Ford a ‘not cool’ look: …i’m pretty sure your not supposed to call people with dwarfism that, Ford.

Ford, about to explode:…

ALSO:

Ford, three in the morning, passionately explaining his work to Stan, manid excitement running through his veins: AND UNICORNS STAN, UNICORNS.

Stan, extremely experienced in the art of drug use: Uh-hu, tell me more Ford.

There's a similar au called Home Is Where The Weird is on Ao3 here:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/63746020/chapters/163433704

But i'd be lying if i hadnt thought of something similar before learning it existed. The idea that Ford is attracted to the strange, but the strange is attracted to Stan is such a fun one to think about. Stan just being a natural Weirdness Magnet for no reason Ford can find, and might also be the reason Ford himself is strange is such an interesting concept to me. Just- Ford being born with six fingers because Stan's weirdness magnetism was already at work in the womb? The idea would haunt Ford.

More under the cut!

And just like there's no visible reason that Gravity Falls has such a powerful Weirdness magnet, there's no reason for Stan to have one either! But its there, and Ford can see the effects of it at work!

I like the idea of Ford tracking Stan down on accident. Man's just looking for other magnets so he can compare data, and discovers evidence of a mobile one! How exciting! Why! How! He needs to figure out what it is!

And then he finds Stan, in the same town he's tracked the anomaly. There's a stiff sort of fight, and Ford sort of ignores him while trying to do his research, except everything he's following goes straight to Stan. Every signal, every strangely shaped jelly bean, until he's hit with the realization of 'oh my god, its Stan. Stan's the magnet.' Then he tackles his brother and forces him to show off where he's been for however long Fords been tracking the anomaly, and just like he suspects its the exact same route at the exact same times. Just confirms it for Ford that his brother is a natural weirdness magnet, and he needs to figure out why.

Which would make Stan's denial so so infuriating for Ford. Stan's lived his whole life explaining away every supernatural experience, he's not about to let his brother on drugs try and shove 'proof' in his face or whatever he's going on about. Ford, in his fury and need to know what Stan's deal is, drags him back home under the guise of 'studying him' which is a thin cover for 'oh my god Stan's homeless' and Stan allows because 'my brothers on drugs and i need to make sure he doesn't OD'.

Which is where i'm going to go on about my idea. When i thought about it, i was struck with the idea of how magnets repel each other if they have the same charge. Why?

Because Stan and Gravity Falls both attract Weirdness, they repel each other. Stan cannot enter Gravity Falls. Its like shoving two opposing magnets together, he physically cannot go past a certain point. There's an invisible force that pushes him back. Of course Ford's not going to let something like that stop him, and drags Stan into Gravity Falls anyway. It gets physically painful before Stan stumbles and is suddenly fine. he's in town, so everything is good, right?

Wrong.

Now he can't leave either. Gravity Falls Magnet has hooked onto Stan, and now the field is a little bigger now he's inside. He's trapped. My original idea was this would happen when Ford sends him the post card, and Stan gets more and more uneasy as he gets closer to Gravity Falls, until he hits the breaks suddenly, overcome with the need to not go any further. But Ford called him, and Ford needs him, so he's going to make it happen.

Except he physically can't. Gets out of the car to go on foot and just hits a wall. Theres a mini freak out that this is the reason Ford called him, and he drives to the closest phone along the invisible wall to call Ford. Fingers tapping and agitated, and then Ford never picks up, or it doesn't go through, because Fords deep in paranoia territory and hasn't paid his phone bill in some time. So Stan's gotta just push on through anyway.

And he does! Because he's Stan Pines and he's not going to let an invisible wall stop him! But it does mean he has to leave his car behind, because the effort of using it to shove himself in sort of broke it. Quickly figures out he cant go back either, then shrugs and moves on. Ford needs him here after all, he can figure out how to get out later. Goes the rest of the way to Fords cabin on foot/hitchhiking and everything goes mostly the same, except when Ford asks him to take the journal far away Stan stutters over his anger with the

"And how am i supposed to do that with the giant invisible wall!"

Much to Fords confusion. They yell at each other over it, Stan insisting he there was a force field around the town and Ford thinking Stan's just being stubborn, until he finally, in a burst of anger, drags Stan back to where he left his car (which is still there!) and shoves him over the boundary line.

Or tries to, because Stan hits an invisible wall. The wall that was not there before, and does not exist for Ford. No matter what he does, if he's holding his book or not, he cannot drag Stan past that line. It actually looks like he's shoving Stan against something physical. He gets like a centimeter of success before Stan is shoved back, like what happens with magnets.

Now Fords grand plan of having Stan drive off has failed, because he's accidentally trapped Stan in Gravity Falls. And they're both angry at each other, Ford hasn't slept, and Stan's freezing and also in pain from bursting through the first time and all of Fords attempts at shoving him the second.

And also theres a giant portal and Bill.

[stupidlittlespirit]

you can’t just say oral fixation and not elaborate on it 😭 please please please share more

Okay so..... Technically, the term 'oral fixation' relates to a Freudian theory about blah blah blah it's Freud so really, who cares. But it relates to a significant interest or fixation around the mouth, or the positioning of the mouth as 'the pleasure centre'.

Typically, it relates to the individual using their mouth/putting things in it, and I do think that Ford has a bit of an individual oral fixation himself (smoking, biting his nails/fingers). But in this instance, I mean that Ford enjoys watching other people's mouths.

I have this hc that his eyes are often drawn to people's mouths when they speak (I do this too, and for me it's about processing the audio?? not sure if anyone else gets that too idk) so he sort of just does it automatically. But it means he notices little things with much more detail: when someone he's interested in bites their lip, when they lick their lips, licking their fingers etc etc. Ford picks up on it and lasers in, because he just.... likes watching it.

Personally, the scenario I was talking about in that last ask ages ago was born out of this weird thing I tend to do: I fucking love the sensation of sucking on things, rolling things around my mouth, rubbing my tongue over things etc. Lollies, sweets, ice-creams, just anything I can work my tongue in and around is 11/10 for me. I'm not sure why, but I really enjoy the sensation and have come to learn that it looks like I'm giving various food stuffs a blow job. I didn't realise that was how it looked, however that's apparently the case.

So anyway, I thought about his partner doing it in front of Ford and again, not really noticing that it might look a certain way to some people. But Ford always watches your mouth when he can get away with it, especially when you're eating something like a lolly or whatever, and so he picks up on it immediately.

And you have no idea. You don't intend for it to be sexy (in this instance), you're just enjoying an ice-lolly on the porch of the house, on a hot summers day. It isn't until you notice how quiet Ford is, until you glance at him out of the corner of your eye and note how his gaze is straight up burning into your mouth, that you realise he's actually really, really into this. Ford doesn't even notice you noticing him.

He's way too caught up with watching you.

So, once you've worked it out, you decide to put on a bit of a show with it. You let yourself work your tongue around the length of the ice-lolly, suck the tip of it, let it rest against your lower lip etc. Bonus points if you just take the whole thing down into your mouth btw (I 'deep throated' a rowntree fruit ice lolly at my office job once bc I forgot where I was and I like the sensation, and it doesn't register as being a sexual motion to me, maybe bc I'm ace idk) and Ford just watches in absolute silence. Raptured. Full attention given.

Until he asks, slightly strangled, "do you have to eat it like that?" and you, who has never done anything wrong in your life and is virtuous and perfectly innocent thank you very much, is like "who, me?"

Ford says "who else? you're treating that thing like it's taken you to dinner and a movie," and you laugh because boy, he really does share his brother's eloquence at times.

"I'm not doing anything," you tell him with a shrug, but Ford vehemently disagrees.

"You're going to kill me if you keep that up," Ford insists; there's a sheen of sweat on his forehead and a flush on his cheeks that definitely isn't from the sun's rays, and his eyes are still locked onto where you rest the end of the ice-lolly against your lower lip.

You part your mouth a little and press the tip of your tongue to the dull edge of the ice, and you hear Ford breathe in sharply. "I'm going to have a heart attack and die," he goes on after a moment, voice distant and rough. "You really ought to think of my wellbeing...."

And you smirk, your mouth curving around the top of the lolly, and you tap the treat against your lower lip once, twice, three times. It's wet, as is the skin there, and it makes a devilish sound on its gentle impact, and you watch as Ford's brow twitches.

"But I'm enjoying myself," you tell him quite honestly, looking up at him through your lashes with a pout. You lave your tongue about the tip of it, circling it slowly, and smile. It's hardly subtle, but you're not in the mood to care about tact right now; it's too hot out here for that and you both know that the house is empty this afternoon. Everyone else is out. Which means there's ample opportunity to enjoy one another without fear of being interrupted. Subtlety isn't needed in this moment.

But Ford's never been patient and he struggles with subtlety anyway, so the moment you make the motion, you see his decision solidify behind his eyes and he stands up from his lawn chair so quickly that he almost topples you out of your own.

"I can think of at least thirteen other things you could pick from to enjoy yourself with," he says simply, and then he's hauling you up out of your chair and dragging you back towards the house while you laugh your head off over his desperation.

[darlingdaisyfarm]

Hun I have way too many insecurities about my smarts because of my family and some mental illnesses so if I could spend just one evening with soft praises and candles with Ford I think I'd make a blood sacrifice for it

I want him to touch me so reverently I don't even have to talk, just letting him guide the whole thing and compliment me

But I also want to destroy him to the point he talk Latin instead of English or the other way I want to forget how to curse in English

- 🎩 anon

oh my god you know what... same. that’s why i mostly include Ford complimenting reader or calling his partner “clever girl” it’s my damn weakness. i want this man who has twelve phds to tell me i’m smart and clever

but oh god NO. HE WOULD LOVE YOU SO BAD, BELIEVE ME WHEN I SAY THAT. hold my hand and repeat after me: Ford loves you. Ford adores your brain. he wants to study it under a microscope and write down every single note about it. he wants to know how your mind works because he finds you to be a very unique person.

did you say it out loud? good. now and only now are you allowed to read the rest of this message <3

okay i’ll go a bit nsfw with this but hell yeah i want Ford to literally talk through the whole process and explain it. it doesn’t even matter if you’re a virgin or already had sex, he will gladly tell you why your body reacts a certain way, why exactly this angle makes you sob, and how kids are made

he would also be sooooooo happy if you got curious and innocently asked him to explain some things about your body <33 FUCK HE'D GLOW “oh? id be honored to help you understand yourself better” shut up nerd I HATE YOU SO MUCH (I LOVE HIM GUYS I CANT DO IT ANYMORE) “well, the region you're pointing to is particularly sensitive due to the nerve clusters just beneath the surface....” and you’re just squirming in his lap already ahhhhh. you’d barely need to speak. he’d tell you what to feel and breathe. he'd talk you through it all, kissing your temple in between anatomical terms. blah blah blah ”this angle stimulates more pressure near your anterior wall, which is why you’re so sensitive right here” yeah i know baby you're sooo smart <3

imagine him asking for your opinion on a research question, saying “you always approach things from an angle i don’t consider” and writing down your response in his journal. if you ever say smth insightful in a group setting he’ll be like “wait, did everyone hear that? can you say it again, darling? that was brilliant!”

also, non-smut praise from Ford will be DAILY REMINDERS about how smart and clever his partner is <3 you’d get little murmurs like

“you always think of angles i haven’t considered”

“you’re astonishing. i don’t know how you make such complex logic sound so easy”

“you don’t give yourself nearly enough credit” (im cryingggg)

“you just solved a puzzle ive been stuck on for three days, darling.”

and fuck. i’m sorry. i’m feeling so fucking lovely about this. like, for example, if the pines family is planning some outdoors activity, Ford always says something like “wait!! let’s ask y/n!” and turns to you with a proud smile, saying “you always have the most creative ideas” i would simply disintegrate from shyness

then when you two are alone, you shake your head, quietly saying “you know, ive never been someone people listen to like that“ he’d hold your face, answering “they should’ve. you’re remarkable.”

[wettblanket]

teen stans fucking for the first time, clumsy and awkward, neither of them experienced on what to do but trying their very best. stan opts to bottom, he can't imagine accidentally hurting ford when they're supposed to be getting sexual. ford of course worries abt hurting stan as well but is reassured by stan saying he can take it/handle it, he's the tougher of the two anyway. things get a bit overboard, ford holds on too tight, stan bites hard enough to draw blood, but overall its a mind blowing experience.

stan sneakily gets the six fingered bruise on his hip tattooed, a permanent mark, a endless promise, a claim laid. he waits to show it off until its healed and ford goes a bit crazy upon seeing it. he's always wanted someone completely devoted to him, uncaring of his weirdness and freaky attributes. they fuck nasty abt it. but ford can't spend too much time sexing up his twin, he's got a science fair to win.

time flies by and before either of them know it it's been months since they've been intimate. stan grips his own hip when jacking off, trying to remember what it felt like to have ford's undivided attention and love. ford might have a shoot at getting into west coast tech. ford wants to leave him.

stan gets mad, punches the table, etc. the same fight happens, stan gets kicked out. he still asks for that high six, but his other hand is covering the black inked six fingers over his hip, holding onto a hand that isn't there.

ford twists the tattoo into something horrid. stan only got it to tie them together, to chain ford to him, to force ford to claim stan as his, never giving ford a chance to see someone else in that light, stan was stealing it all for himself. ford never asked stan to get the inked handprint, it's his own brother's damn fault for getting such a foolish tattoo in the first place.

days turn into weeks turn into years. stan sleeps with his arm curled under him, fingers splayed over the graying ink. some of his johns like to joke that either stan or the tattoo artist were so hammered they didn't notice the handprint having an extra finger. most of his johns grab onto the spot like it's an instruction manual, an open invitation to touch him however they pleased. it never feels right. there's always something missing. there's never enough fingers.

college ford expresses extreme distaste for tattoos. he thinks they're tacky and unprofessional. why would someone mar their body with an unremovable mark? it sounds like something idiots with no foresight do. fiddleford asks him once if he's speaking from experience. it's probably meant as a joke but ford explodes and the topic isn't brought up again. even when they both wake up from a drunken graduation celebration with scientific equations tattoos on their under arms.

blah blah blah time passes. ford mets bill, maybe gets another ill-fated tattoo before the truth is revealed. the horrible sight of it in the mirror reminds him of the one person left he could reach out to.

one day a postcard arrives and stan is left hightailing it to Oregon. he drives with one hand on the wheel and the touch tentatively brushing his hip. when he gets there ford is acting insane. he grabs stan and slams him into the front door, ripping his pants down and shoving his underwear to the side.

fiddleford didn't know about the tattoo. neither did the shifter. a faded stretch marked six fingered tattoo still rests on stan's hip. ford grabs onto it like it's his lifeline. his nails dig in hard enough to draw blood. that finally snaps stan out of it and he shoves ford away, demanding explanations.

the stuff in the basement still happens. stan still spends thirty years working to bring his brother back. weirdmagedon still happens. the memory wipe and slowly blossoming reunion too.

(maybe ford grips his own hip in moments of high stress traveling the multiverse, imagining the bruise it would leave on someone else. maybe stan begins to despise his tattoo bc now its a symbol of someone he can't save, proof that he's not worthy of his twin's love.)

ford is the one to explain stan's tattoo(s) to him. the brand hurts, brings up bad times for the both of them. before ford gets a chance to explain the handprint, feeling weirdly guilty and chastised abt it, stan brushes his hand over it lovingly, stating that he got it to remind himself that someone loves him, that someone wants him. ford cries a bit and they have reaffirming sweet old man sex.

as they're loading up the Stan O'War II, ford notices how stiffly stan is walking around. he worried at first that something is wrong. stan wanted to keep it as a surprise but that night he takes off his pants to show ford the tattoo. its red and raw around the edges and stan sheepishly admits to getting it touched up before they set sail. cue horny in love sex and happily ever after.

[woolfie-artz]

thinking about what if Stan was Mtf and Ford was Ftm

i think it would take Stan till her 20’s to figure it out but Ford would figure it out when he’s young

maybe during prom Filbrick insisted Ford had to wear a dress and he really doesn’t want to, so Stan offers to swap her suit for Ford’s dress and they pretend to be eachother for the night so they don’t get caught, and if she ends up enjoying wearing a dress more than she thinks she should, whose to know?

Stan would steal her estrogen from whatever pharmacy there is in the town she’s in at the time

She would sadly detransition after faking her death to take Ford’s place (socially at least, it took her too much time to get her estrogen and she’s not gonna go and undo all that work when she could slip on a homemade binder or something like that when in public because she didn’t want her brother to get misgendered when he gets back because she took his name)

i think she would tell Soos and Wendy tho, and they use the right pronouns for her when they aren’t in public because of her request that they continue to use he/him for her in public though she wouldn’t use that modern lingo for it. Soos feels SO damn guilty whenever he has to misgender Stan in public and you can see it in the sad apologetic face he does everytime

Mabel and Dipper find out that Stan’s trans the same day Ford comes through the portal (i think it goes something like

*blah blah the stan twins backstory and at some point Ford refers to Stan as She*

Mabel and Dipper assume that Stan is FtM because of them not knowing and are under the assumption that Stan must’ve transitioned while Ford was in the portal, “correct” him

Ford then asks Stan if she detransitioned.

children are shocked)

i think Ford would feel guilty that Stan detransitioned for 30 years to get him back but he wouldn’t tell her that because that’s too close to these two communicating healthily pre weirdmaggedon but Ford is a little less of a jerk during that time too because of it also. and mabel is excited to have a grauntie and a new grunkle, and Dippers pretty excited too, because his grauntie and the author, his new grunkle, are like him (that boy is so transgender it’s unreal)

Stan does socially transition again after Ford gets back, and this does lead to Mabel and her friends getting her to join them for makeovers (she gives them makeup tips now that she’s out again)

When the two finally reconcile when they’re old as hell they would totally make some sorta “swapped genders in the womb” joke

[mariistaa24]

oh lord they make me ill (don't mind bill he's just being silly) ALSO 2 POSTS IN 1 DAY??? saturdays are awesome man BTW THE @ IN THE DRAWING IS MY TWITTER!!!! side note anyone who unironically calls twitter X dni /j -- LORE -- fiddleford and emma-may were arranged years ago and have lived together in a lavender marriage. they are on good terms. stan is bisexual and ford is gay. fiddleford went up to gravity falls where he and ford fell in love and happily worked on the portal together. however, ford's growing obsession with bill and violent tendencies whenever he was posessed put a heavy strain on their relationship. eventually, after the whole portal incident with fiddleford, they got into a huge fight and fell out. fiddleford is too ashamed to go back to his wife and son empty handed because he was the breadmaker and emma-may was probably struggling financially without him around. (they both work btw it's just that fidds makes more money) so he began to keep a journal /j traumatized from what he saw in the portal he invented the memory gun, which, while succeeding in erasing his memory of the event, also caused him to completely forget the fallout. he wandered back to ford's house thinking nothing happened and met stan, initially very confused as to why and how ford had magically sprouted a mullet and was dressed like a hobo. obviously they clear things up and stan explains what happened to ford. fiddleford, having forgot all the awful things ford did to him, is still totally head over heels and is devastated hearing that he's gone. over the course of a few months or so, stan falls in love with fiddleford, and is way more guilty about it than ford was (because stan has a way bigger appreciation for family and feels awful being a homewrecker and ALSO this is his first time falling in love with a man so that's a whole other story with his upbringing and morals being questioned blah blah blah). fiddleford on the other hand is grieving the loss of his bf HARD. and it's even worse having to see his face every day but none of the things that truly made him him. but when stan finally told fiddleford how he felt...? god, he couldn't tell you what came over him. fiddleford could have sworn it was just like the first time he and ford had kissed. he was left panting, gasping for air while the latter gently caressed his face with broad, calloused hands. he felt guilty, telling stan he felt the same when his heart was still so set on his twin, but... he'd never know, right? wrong. stan was a con man. of course he could sniff out lies like a dog. and the worst part? he couldn't even blame fiddleford. after all, his brother was the better twin. he was smarter, more successful, and loved more than he could imagine. he was just a dumb, good-for-nothing loser. that was fine. it was a truth he'd come to terms with a long, long time ago. but through it all, he couldn't stop the tears that pricked his eyes while they shared that kiss. and he swallowed the words that tried to bubble up as he pulled away. "i know who you pretend i am."

[starryvine]

Woo cookin up a relativity falls au

Bit of context under cut :))

more relativity falls

even more relativity falls

Mabel —> Ford

- art major, moved to gravity falls to get closer to nature and beat back the art block

- found out about he weird stuff almost immediately, really inspired her art, decided to take up photography and start up a scrapbook, starts writing in it too, along the way, starting doing some unofficial research on the stuff, the sciency approach reminds her of dipper :(, becomes the journal (3 in total like normal)

- estranged from him, they had a big fight a while back and haven’t spoken since

- found some weird carvings while exploring describing the “axolotl” with a warning not to summon it, does so anyway (thinks the little drawing of him is cute)

- has a dream, axolotl promises that doing more sciency stuff is the key to fixing things with her brother’s, so what would be more sciency than a scientific breakthrough (the portal)

- They build the portal, Mabel has a deal with the axolotl, blah blah blah

- tries to shut down the portal, axolotl gets nasty and does the whole possession stuff, same as canon

- Mabel decides her journals need to be destroyed, calls dipper to get rid of one (part of her hopes they can make up)

- dipper comes, they argue and fight (although it’s less intense than canon, and more teary on Mabel’s part), but the portal still gets switched on and Mabel is sucked through

Dipper —> Stan

- had a really specific major and lots of promise, but he couldn’t find a position in his field

- Ends up taking odd jobs to pay the bills

- Does less overt crime than canon, but still changes identities a bunch

- He lies so much on resumes and starts getting a reputation, no one hires, hence the fake names

- Also is totally dodging his college debt and possibly the irs. Dunno the guy just got tired of paying them

- Once he runs out of jobs/people stop hiring him he dabbles a little in crime but like more insurance fraud type stuff

- Lives out of his car, run out of half the states in the US, the irs/fbi may or may not be after him

- Had a falling out with Mabel like ten years back at this point, but gets her postcard begging her to come to gravity falls

- Is immediately faced with a paranoid, desperate, and obviously injured Mabel

- He tries to ask what happened, but Mabel is Tired and kind of just gives him her journal and tells him to get as far away as possible

- He tries to burn the journal as a last resort while Mabel isn’t listening to him, she flips out (doesn’t want to destroy her art) and they scuffle, Mabel gets portal’d and dipper is left behind :(

- Goes into town, someone asks him if he got a haircut (up until working on the portal like 2 years ago Mabel was pretty frequent in town), people remark on the “weird artist that lives out in the woods” that hasn’t been seen

- People say they would love to see her art, dipper, broke and pretending to be her, offers to show them and give them a tour for a price, and he starts making his own pieces related to his own interests and the mystery shack is born

- Still working on getting Mabel back though :(

Then Stan and Ford go to stay with their weird great uncle Dipper, and shenanigans ensue lol similar to canon

[ask-outside-stars]

(OMG I LOOOOVED MY WII FIT AS A TEENAGER. I hope this is good enough for your request, I haven't used that thing in FOREVERRRR)

Will followed the cheery music out of his bedroom and into the living room where Ford and Stan were taking turns standing atop a flat pane of white plastic and... flexing? Okay, he was officially lost.

Stan was the first to notice him and waved him over with a smug grin.

"Hey, blondie, tell your delusional husband that there's no way he's beefier than me."

"Oh come now, Stanley, don't drag William into this."

Will's eyes darted back and forth between the two brothers, visibly confused by their antics. On screen two digital approximations of themselves wandered aimlessly through a white void.

"You've lost me. What exactly is going on here?" he asked.

Ford cleared his throat pointedly and adjusted his glasses. "Well, Mabel showed us this We-Fit game and how it can be used to improve body composition, posture, and coordination. I thought it would be prudent to see if I can't improve my balance somewhat-"

"Oh cut the crap, Sixer." Stan elbowed his brother off the platform and took his place atop it. "Long story short, Ford and me-"

"Ford and I."

"-shut up. Ford and me were tryin' to figure out which of us has more muscle mass, and Mabel said this could show us."

"How exactly?" Will asked, peering at the screen.

"Well, muscle tissue is denser than adipose tissue. A good way to gauge one's muscle mass is to take a preliminary weight measurement-"

"Which means that I'M more muscular," Stan interrupted, and flexed his bicep for good measure. "See my little guy on the screen? His number's higher."

"Stanley, you aren't taking into account lean muscle mass versus-"

"Nope. Blah blah blah. Big number's better."

"Can I try?" Will asked.

Stan snorted at that.

"Look, Cipher, you're about thirty pounds soaking wet. I've eaten chicken wings with more meat on 'em than you."

"I'm plenty muscular!" Will protested shrilly. "Set me up one of those little mini-me's and I'll show you that I have more muscles than you think!"

Ford walked him through the process of creating a Mee, and soon mini-William was smiling out from the television screen. Will giggled as, even in the digital world, his and Ford's miniature avatars seemed drawn to one another.

"Alright, now you just step on this panel here and it will weigh you. Once we have an initial base weight, we can measure your body fat percentage and determine how much of your mass is muscle versus other tissues, such as bone."

"You saying I've got weak bones?" Will teased as he took his place atop the platform.

"Not at all, my love," Ford chuckled and came to stand behind him.

On screen, the numbers rolled through until settling on a definitive count, and Will sputtered indignantly as his Mee shrunk to accommodate his puny frame.

"WHAT?! I do not look like that!" Will practically screeched as Stan howled with laughter.

"What'd I tell ya? A stiff breeze could knock you flat."

Then, quite suddenly, the number on the screen rocketed up until it was standing on equal footing with Stan's. Will whooped in triumph, making sure not to step off the panel.

"HA! See? I've got loads of muscles!" he declared with an accusatory jab at Stan's barrel chest. "Dumb thing must have just been lagging."

Stan could only sputter in confusion at the sight of the number on the screen.

"What the- this thing's rigged!"

"Don't be jealous, Stanley. A human can't possibly compare to raw Euclydian might, after all."

"I demand a do-over!"

As they bickered, neither of them noticed Ford moving his foot from between Will's and lifting it off the panel with a self-satisfied smirk. He supposed a little ego boost for his dear William never hurt.

[millenianthemums]

chapter 5 of the fic is here! it took me a while to finish the art this time. i know i said i’d put less effort into the pieces to avoid burnout, but they’re just so fun… rendering things like this is so relaxing fsr.

PREVIOUS

INDEX

NEXT

————

Bill trudged out onto the mud soaked lawn, eager to put as much distance as possible between himself and this godforsaken house. Even the woods, still soaked in darkness as the first rays of sunlight failed to reach them, appealed to him more than the Mystery Shack. Knowing he’d been dragged in there while he couldn’t fight back, he’d slept in there, under the Pines family’s floor… just the thought made his skin crawl. Seemed like even killing him wasn’t enough for them. They just had to keep humiliating him every chance they got. Offering to “help” him after everything they did was just sadistic, even for him. He’d have to remember it for the next time he had an enemy at his mercy.

He had to get out of here. Just being here was infuriating. Plus, if the kid was right about Ford being up, he might get spotted. And chances were, Ford wouldn’t be satisfied with destroying his life just once.

At the thought of Ford, Bill clenched his fists so tight that his claws pierced into his palms. This was all Ford’s fault. He’d ruined everything. He’d drawn Bill in with that sweet, innocent nerd routine, acting all impressed and grateful, listening to his stories, laughing at his jokes, making all those stupid promises about eternal fealty and partnership, and then the instant he sensed a single drawback to their deal, suddenly Bill was nothing to him. One little misstep and suddenly nothing they’d done together meant anything, because it never had, not really. All he’d ever cared about was the perks, the knowledge, the secrets of the universe, blah blah blah, he’d never cared about Bill. Not even a little. Why had Bill ever fallen for it?! If only he’d gotten anyone else to build the portal…

He stopped in his tracks. The portal. This stupid flesh brain was going to be the death of him. How had he almost forgotten about the portal?! Sure, it was deactivated, but it had to still be there! Even if it was in pieces, he knew better than anyone how to put it back together. He just had to get it running again, just for a second, and then all his problems would be over! He could get back to the Nightmare Realm, grab his power source, and be back in business!

He hadn’t crossed over the stupid Bill-proof barrier around the shack yet, on the off-chance it might still affect him. Just to be sure, he stuck close to the outer wall as he crossed around to the back door of the gift shop. It was locked, of course, but Bill hadn’t forgotten everything. The birch trees near the house had given him plenty of angles to see where Stan and that dopey employee of his looked for the spare key when they locked themselves out. Sure enough, it was still tucked under the same fake rock nestled against the stairs. As quietly as possible, he eased the door open and stepped inside.

The place was as dark and empty as he’d hoped. Hokey glass-eyed chimeras, stitched together from whatever random taxidermy scraps the thrift store or dump had to offer, leered down at him from every angle as he crept across the room, hiding in the blind spots of the security cameras. This place hadn’t gotten any less embarrassing in the months since he’d seen it; if anything, it looked kitschier and dumber than ever. The random garbage being passed off as “magical objects” and the taxidermy crimes against nature weren’t even trying to look convincing, but perhaps because of that, they were weirder and more eye-catching than ever. As much as he hated to give Stanley Pines any kind of credit, Bill had to admit the sheer level of silliness and brazen, gleeful fraud on display was pretty admirable.

The vibe of the Mystery Shack might have changed a little, but thankfully, the layout hadn’t. The vending machine marking the secret basement door was still right where he’d expected it to be. Those chumps hadn’t even bothered to change the passcode. As he scurried down the stairs, the first genuine laugh since his resurrection began to bubble up from his throat. This was almost too easy.

The laugh died a sudden, violent death the instant he rounded the corner and looked out into the basement.

The portal still seemed to be technically there. Most of it, at least. But the massive, triangular frame had been knocked over and shattered into pieces across the stone floor. The metal was twisted, charred, every visible surface bearing scars and dents as if someone had spent months on end viciously attacking it with every available weapon. Not a single remaining component was unscathed; anything salvageable must have been scavenged for parts. The monolithic structure, this thing that represented millenia of planning and years upon years of hard work and partnership, now resembled nothing more than a heap of scrap metal. Torn apart. He literally tore the damn thing apart.

Bill felt his knees buckle beneath him. He caught himself just before toppling over, slamming a hand against a countertop and leaning against it. This couldn’t be real. Someone had to be playing a sick prank on him. They shattered it. They literally shattered his only lifeline, again. This was a torment he’d pass up for being too on the nose. He was laughing again, but there was no joy in it this time. He just couldn’t help it. This was all just too funny.

Still doubled over with laughter, he started grasping across the counter for something to break. Something to throw as hard as he could, or crush in his hands, or something. Anything. He didn’t care if he made noise, didn’t care if he got caught. He just wanted to destroy something. But of course, just his luck, the countertop was totally clear…

Wait. It was not like Ford to keep a clean countertop.

Bill pushed himself up and took his first clear look at the lab he was standing in. As his eye swept across the cavernous basement, a glimmer of hope started building inside him. Aside from the wreckage of the portal, the place was completely empty. Stripped right down to the floorboards. Squinting, he made out the vague impressions left behind where he’d disturbed the layers of dust coating everything. He was the first living thing to set foot down here in months.

Ford had moved his lab upstairs. Bill put a hand to his face, reeling from the shock of delight. Oh, that poor idiot. He’d ventured up out of his sad little cave to be closer to his precious family. And he’d left the remnants of the portal unguarded.

And why not? The big bad triangle was dead. There was no reason to think he’d ever come back for it. After all, with all that damage, even with Bill’s intricate knowledge of the device’s construction, it would take him months of nonstop work to get it even close to operable again. And there was no way he’d be able to sneak in and out of the shack that many times without being seen by anybody.

Unless he was in the shack the whole time.

Another laugh burst out of him, and this one was pure, utter glee. His old pal Shooting Star had come through for him again. She’d handed him the answer to all his problems on a silver platter, and he’d almost missed it! He’d thought it was too easy, that nobody would ever be that generous to somebody they knew would turn on them, who already tricked them the same way once… but he definitely wasn’t complaining. If Shooting Star really thought helping him was a good idea, he was more than happy to let her keep thinking that.

He’d need to make this convincing, he told himself as he snuck back out the way he came. He’d need to really sell the sob story. Make it seem like he had no chance at surviving even one day without her help. He’d have to swallow his pride a little– maybe even a lot. But it would all be worth it in the end. Shooting Star thought he was a helpless sad sack she could win over with pity, so he would play that part. Just for a little while. Just long enough to get the portal up and running. And then he’d never have to answer to anyone else again.

And he’d show her and her whole family just how far pity would get them.

-

After Mabel had watched Bill scramble out the window with all the poise and grace of a drunk raccoon, she’d trudged upstairs, face planted onto her bed, and passed out within seconds. She didn’t move again until after 1 PM, when Dipper helped Waddles clamber up onto her bed and she was forced to wake up or be crushed to death.

As the enormous pig did his best to climb up and settle on Mabel’s back, she wheezed in protest and flailed out from under him, slumping face-first onto the floor. She aimed a beleaguered stare up at Dipper, who looked entirely too pleased with himself, and said “Et tu, Brute?”

“Definitely not how to pronounce that,” Dipper said with a snort. “Waddles missed you. He wanted to make sure you were alive.”

“I am, no thanks to you guys,” Mabel said with a giggle. Dipper grabbed her hand and hauled her to her feet, and she cupped Waddles’ face and rubbed his big cheeks. “You’re not a lap pig anymore, Mr. Sir! You’re the size of a fridge!”

Waddles stretched out contentedly until his widdle back hooves dangled off the mattress, shoving his face into Mabel’s hands. Turns out farm hogs don’t stay adorably travel-sized for long; in less than nine months, he’d gone from fitting snugly in a backpack to almost being big enough to ride. She hadn’t convinced him to stand up with her on his back yet, but she suspected it was less about strength and more about motivation. He always just stared at her like “I know you have legs, bestie.”

In any case, his adorability had only increased as he grew. Mabel gave him a tiny kiss on his flat pink nose, and he oinked softly in response.

“I still can’t believe he even fit on the bus,” Dipper said, patting Waddles on the tummy. “It’s a miracle the bus driver let us bring him.”

“I think he was scared of us,” Mabel laughed. “Probably thought Waddles’d eat him.”

Dipper scoffed. “This guy won’t eat carrots if they’re too crunchy. He’s not gnawing through human bones.”

“I dunno, that bus driver looked kinda calcium deficient.”

Dipper laughed and nudged her shoulder. “C’mon, goofball, go get changed. We’re hitting the lake today, remember?”

—

That lake day was the best day of the summer thus far. Every day they’d been back here– except maybe yesterday– had been the best day of the summer thus far. They hadn’t taken a boat out; Stan and Ford both agreed they’d spent more than enough time on a boat recently, thank you very much. They just found a good spot on the beach and swam, and skipped rocks, and attempted a game of volleyball (none of them were any good at spiking the ball, and it devolved into dodgeball pretty quick), and just goofed around together like a normal family. After all the drama last year, it was just so unbelievably awesome that she and her three favorite people could finally just be a normal, happy family.

Eventually, the sun made its way to the other end of the sky. Mabel had brought her bike along in the car trunk, planning to ride it home just for fun. Once the sunlight turned orange and the shadows started to stretch, Stan pointed out that she’d need to head back soon to catch the last of the daylight. She agreed she’d rather not have to bike home in the dark twice in two days, so she waved goodbye to everybody, joked that now somebody else would finally have a turn to win at dodgeball, and set off for home.

If she had a choice, Mabel seldom preferred to do anything alone. Maybe it was just because she was a twin, and had spent her whole life with a teammate, a best friend who was always there to watch her back while she watched his. Maybe growing up that way meant she never learned how to be alone without feeling like a turtle without its shell. But whatever the reason, if she spent too long by herself, it started to feel like drowning.

But sometime last fall, she’d realized just how fast she could go on a bike. And suddenly she just couldn’t get enough of it, and Dipper, bless him, he’d tried his best to keep up with her, but his poor nerd legs just couldn’t pedal that fast. So she’d told him she preferred solo biking now, and he’d gratefully accepted the excuse not to accompany her on her daily rides.

She really did love the speed. Watching the trees zip by until they blurred into a solid wall of green, feeling the wind lift her hair so it flowed behind her like a tail, keeping pace with crows gliding through the sky above. It was worth a little solitude. And if Dipper knew she’d rather he go with her, he’d bust a lung or fall over and break his arm, or at the very least be uncomfortable and embarrassed the whole time. So it wasn’t a big deal. Really, she was fine with it. Right now, as she traced the twisting road up into the rolling, forested hills and toward the Mystery Shack, she felt almost completely content. Watching the clouds roll gently overhead, catching glints of orange and pink from the setting sun, the songs of birds and crickets washing away any pesky thoughts as she let herself be absorbed into this moment–

“AAAAAUGH!”

Mabel slammed the handlebars sideways and sent her bike careening off the pavement as a flash of gold raced past, just barely fast enough to not collide with her. She couldn’t look at it and save her bike from crashing down the steep hill beside the road at the same time, so by the time she’d managed to wrangle it to a stop, it was gone from sight. But that shrill scream she’d heard, the one she’d mistaken for a fox earlier, hadn’t gone away. And the road wasn’t empty. More small shapes were racing across it, chasing the thing, and these ones were all too recognizable. Her hunch was confirmed when one of them lost its footing and didn’t quite clear the brush at the edge of the forest. An antler snagged against a branch, and a tiny thing covered in sandy brown fur started screeching and thrashing around so violently that Mabel grabbed her grappling hook on impulse. Finally it broke free and joined the pack chasing after the screaming gold thing. Jackalopes. Dozens of the mean little things. And she had a pretty good idea who they were after.

She swung her bike around, and against her better judgment she biked after the throng of bunnies. Sure enough, she was proven right yet again. Just a few dozen feet past the tree line, Bill Cipher, the antagonist of most of her worst recent nightmares, was trying to balance on the top branch of a pine sapling just barely large enough to support his weight, as the jackalopes gathered at its base and leapt up at him, jabbing with their sharp antlers, almost but not quite able to jump as high as he’d climbed. Bill hadn’t stopped screaming since she’d first heard him.

This was certainly one way to cure a phobia.

Mabel jumped off her bike and threw the back trunk open. Frantically, she rifled around through her emergency supplies; multitool, slingshot, glowsticks, sack of ball bearings, fake gold jewelry for tricking fey… maybe Dipper was right about traveling light…

“ARE YOU PLANNING ON HELPING?!” Bill had spotted her, and most of his fear had turned into indignance.

“One second!” Mabel yelled, tossing snacks and weapons aside.

“OH, NO RUSH! TAKE YOUR TIME, NOT LIKE THERE’S ANYTHING URGENT GOING ON– OW!!!” He screeched; Mabel whipped her head around to see that one of those antler jabs had caught him in the ankle. Shiny silver blood poured from the gash.

Mabel wrenched the basket off the bike and dumped it out onto the ground. Finally, her target was revealed: an air horn. She raced toward the frenzy of rabbits and held it aloft. “Hey!” she roared, and just as the jackalopes turned their attention to her, she slammed down on the button as hard as she could.

A shrill, deafening honk crashed against every tree in the forest, filling the air with sound. The jackalopes, as one, all screeched in agony, recoiling from the horn and flattening their ears against the noise. A bold one bared its fangs at her, but she pointed the horn closer and kept the button held down, and soon every jackalope had retreated into the woods. Once they were out of sight, she released the button, and the world was just dull ringing for a few seconds, until her hearing returned with the sound of a sapling breaking in half.

She turned to see Bill lying prone on the ground again, painfully picking himself up. She considered offering her hand, then figured that would just embarrass him further, then figured she didn’t really care and reached toward him anyway. He glared up at her. For a second, he seemed to consider accepting it, but then he stood up on his own with a pained grunt, grabbing the top half of the broken tree and steadying himself on it like a cane to keep the weight off his injured leg. Mabel winced as she realized it was the same one Scout had gotten ahold of the other day. At least he had one leg that maybe didn’t hurt?

“...You okay?” Mabel asked, after a long silence.

His eye turned to stare at her disdainfully. “WHAT DOES IT LOOK LIKE.”

She stared back at him for a second, assessing. Then she looked away again, examining the trees. She could see that he could see that she could see he looked terrible. He was all scraped up again, his old wounds not quite healed yet and joined by lots of new ones. His legs were caked to the knees with dried mud, probably from a long day of wading through the river and falling down ledges and stepping in gopher holes. He was teetering in place, visibly exhausted. His hat looked almost spotless, like he’d been shielding it at all costs, but his bow tie was in dire need of a spin cycle. And his arms and legs were more bug bites than skin at this point.

She figured she should say something. Fidgeting nervously with her sweater sleeve, she said “It looks like you forgot bug spray.”

To her surprise, he laughed. It was a short, loud bark of a laugh, but it was a laugh. She looked back at him to see he was sitting on the ground, leaning his face against his hands. He looked up at her. “YOU GUYS REALLY JUST LIVE WITH MOSQUITOS, HUH. THEY’RE JUST… AROUND. ALL THE TIME.”

“Well, not in winter,” Mabel offered.

Bill laughed again. It was a little bit more like a real laugh this time; still definitely not happy, more numb bemusement, but it felt like an improvement. “GREAT!” he said. “JUST SIX MORE MONTHS.” He covered his face again.

Mabel looked down at him, watching cautiously. Her hand was tight around the handle of her grappling hook, ready for trouble, just in case this was somehow all a trap. Heck, maybe this was all part of his plan. Maybe he lured out those jackalopes and got himself into a second near-death experience just so she could find him and completely let her guard down. Maybe this was just a big, elaborate, 4D chess evil mastermind long con.

Suddenly he looked up and shouted “WHAT?!?” Mabel jumped back, and by pure muscle memory, her hand shot up to brandish the grappling hook. Unfortunately, her hands had gotten sweaty from all the excitement, and as the hook reached the peak of its arc, she lost her grip on it completely. It sailed out of her grasp, whipped through the air and hit Bill in the side of the face with a loud, solid CLONK.

Bill clutched his head where she’d hit him, too shocked to even yell in pain. Mabel was quicker to react. “Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean– hang on…” She sifted through her pockets and grabbed her bag of band-aids, and before even thinking about what she was doing, she was already kneeling beside him and pressing a starry band-aid over the bleeding welt between his scales.

Bill recoiled from her touch again, pupil dilated in terror as he scrambled backwards. Mabel pulled back quickly, raising her hands. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, throat clenched tight from panic at the thought that he might strike back.

They both noticed the grappling hook at the same time. It had landed in the grass right next to Bill, easily within reach. Slowly, to her terror, he picked it up and turned it over in his hands. She clenched her hands into fists at her sides, her last line of defense. Like Grunkle Stan had taught her: when all else fails, there’s always punching.

But he didn’t shoot her. Instead, he turned the grappling hook over again and extended an arm, holding it out to her handle-first.

Mabel looked at him appraisingly for a second, then slowly reached out and took the grappling hook from him. She returned it to its holster, and then hesitantly held out the bag of band-aids. “Your leg’s still bleeding,” she said softly. “You can pick.”

Bill sighed and accepted the band-aids. Sifting through, he muttered, “YOU GOT A LOT OF THESE STAR ONES, HUH.”

Mabel gave an apologetic laugh. “I like stars,” she said.

Bill let out a soft chuckle in return. After a bit more searching, he chose another star-patterned band-aid and handed the bag back.

“Well, uh… I’ll get out of your hair,” Mabel said awkwardly, starting to scoop all her supplies into the basket and shove it back into place on her bike. “I know you said you didn’t want my help–”

“WAIT,” Bill said. She turned back to look at him; he looked like he was about to say something he really didn’t want to say.

“LOOK,” he said. “I… I DON’T KNOW WHERE I’M GOING. I DON’T HAVE A PLAN, OR ANYWHERE TO STAY, I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHEN I’M GONNA HAVE FOOD AGAIN. I THINK AT THIS POINT…” he took a deep breath and forced the last words out with the air, “...I NEED ALL THE HELP I CAN GET. IF YOUR OFFER STILL STANDS, I’LL TAKE IT.”

Mabel didn’t know what to say. She was stunned, full deer-in-the-headlights paralyzed. She twisted the edge of her sweater tight in her hands, trying to ground herself. She knew this was a bad idea. She knew she’d regret it. But in some strange way, she knew there was only one way this could go. She’d made the offer already. There was no going back.

“You’ll have to stay hidden for a while,” she said. “At least until I figure out how to tell Dipper and the Grunkles. And you’ll have to stay close by, so I know you’re not sneaking out to do evil world domination stuff. I’ll help you out with food and stuff, but you have to play by my rules as long as you’re staying with us, or you’re on your own.” She stared straight into his eye. “And you have to swear, on pain of death, that you won’t hurt anybody.”

He stared back evenly. “I SWEAR.”

She held his gaze. This seemed way too easy. “You’re really not gonna stab me in the back?”

“KID,” he said wearily. “I WOULDN’T DO THIS IF I HAD ANY OTHER OPTION. IF I STABBED YOU NOW, I’D GO DOWN WITH YOU.”

Mabel took in a long, deep breath and let it out slowly. “Okay. Just for a little while. As long as you promise not to make me regret this.”

“YOU GOT YOURSELF A DEAL.” Bill extended a hand for her to shake, seemingly as a reflex. Just as reflexively, Mabel flinched back, expecting it to erupt in blue fire like it did last summer. But it didn’t take long for them both to realize, with embarrassment, that things didn’t work like that anymore.

“We’re not shaking on it,” Mabel said. Bill put his hand back down, looking glad for the excuse.

Mabel finished packing up and climbed back onto her bike. “We should hurry if we wanna beat the others to the shack,” she said. “C’mon, get in the basket.”

Bill looked affronted. “SORRY. WHAT?!”

Mabel pointed to the front basket, in case that was where the confusion lay.

“WHAT AM I, A BUSHEL OF TURNIPS?! I’M NOT RIDING IN THE BASKET!”

“I mean, this isn’t a two-seater, so the other option is walking all the way there on that leg,” Mabel said with a shrug. “Which is fine if you really want. I won’t stop you. I’d just much rather ride on the bike if it were up to me. I’d be worried about being stuck out here after dark, and if the jackalopes come back–”

“ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT! I GET IT!” Bill clambered up into the basket. Just like last time, he fit perfectly. He looked furious about it.

As they cycled along the trail, gliding between slowly deepening shadows and bright patches of golden sunlight, Mabel could tell Bill was nodding off. “You can sleep if you want,” she said. “I’m a smooth driver. I carried you all the way to the shack in that basket last night, and you didn’t wake up once.”

“DON’T TELL ME THAT,” Bill groaned, straining to stay awake. “HASN’T MY DIGNITY SUFFERED ENOUGH?”

“Not even close,” Mabel said.

—

Mabel suspected Bill had drifted off by the time they reached the shack. But when she stopped the bike in the driveway, he jolted to awareness and lurched out of the basket as fast as he could. He stumbled and brushed himself off, looking like he’d faced the worst indignity of his life. “LET’S GET INSIDE QUICK,” he said, striding purposefully ahead of Mabel. “I DON’T WANT TO GET SPOTTED, I’VE HAD ENOUGH STRESS FOR ONE DAY–”

Then he seemed to smack his head on thin air. With a yelp, he staggered back away from the invisible obstacle, holding his face like he’d been zapped by something. Mabel trotted up to him, just in time to see a shimmer of light flash across an invisible membrane in the air, highlighting the shapes of strange runes and symbols as it slid up across a massive dome that seemed to encase the entire Mystery Shack.

“Oh yeah,” she said thoughtfully. “That.”

“ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!?” Bill shrieked. “I DON’T HAVE ANY OF MY POWERS, BUT THAT STUPID DOME STILL WORKS?! HOW IS THAT FAIR?! I HAVE TO BE STUCK AS A MISERABLE PATHETIC MEATSACK AND STILL DEAL WITH ALL THE STUPID CURSES AND SHIT FROM BEFORE?!? WHAT NEXT, AM I ALLERGIC TO PEANUTS TOO?!? WHAT KIND OF ABSOLUTE x7*&^@^%%$--” he cut himself off and glanced back at Mabel, wincing. “DON’T REPEAT THAT,” he said to her.

“I don’t even know what it was,” Mabel said honestly. She thought maybe a bug had buzzed past her ear while he was talking, because she’d totally missed that last word somehow. Also her vision was a little fuzzy for a second, but then she blinked and it was normal again.

“You passed through the barrier just fine when you were asleep in the basket,” she pointed out.

Bill sighed heavily. “CAN YOU STOP MENTIONING THAT?”

“I’m just saying… hmm.” Mabel walked her bike up to where the membrane had been, and crossed it halfway. Then she held out a hand to Bill.

He looked at her, confused and annoyed. She’d tried this twice before and it hadn’t worked, but maybe the third time was the charm. “C’mon, humor me,” she said.

Bill kept staring at her, looking like he wanted to just turn around and walk back into the woods. But then, slowly, he squeezed his eye shut and reached out his hand toward hers. She grabbed it, and he winced like he’d gotten a static shock. His skin was cold, rough and pebbly, like really old leather. She pulled him forward, almost without meaning to– he really did weigh basically nothing– and walked him through the barrier. It was effortless, no indication that anything had been in the way at all. She couldn’t even really tell when exactly they’d passed through it. But regardless, they’d gotten through.

“Knew it!” Mabel released Bill’s hand so she could flap her hands excitedly. “It’s like a vampire thing! You can only enter the shack if one of us invites you in.”

“GREAT,” Bill muttered. He was holding up the hand she’d just let go of, just staring at it, like it had changed in some way he couldn’t quite define. Like holding hands was the most harrowing experience he’d had today.

“Okay, maybe it’s not the best vampire power to have…” Mabel began, trying to lighten the mood. “But at least the sun doesn’t kill you. And you can eat food, and cross running water…”

“YEP,” he cut in, scowling into the distance. “LEARNED THAT FROM EXPERIENCE.”

“...and hold crosses, probably, if you want… and eat garlic! Unless you’re like a cat and it’ll make you sick… and…” Mabel trailed off. “Is it just me or are vampires a downgrade in, like, every way.”

Bill snorted. “IT’S SUPPOSED TO BE A CURSE, KID. DID YOU MISS THAT PART?”

“Well, yeah, I’ve heard boring people call it a curse lots of times, but in those books and movies and shows and stuff it seems like everybody wants to be a vampire!” she protested. “They act like it’s so cool. I mean, I guess you can live forever or something, but, like, you can’t go outside! Or into any building where you don’t know the owner. And Italian food? Forget it! After hundreds of years, that would get sooo old. What’s the point of living forever if it’s no fun?”

Bill shrugged.

“But people always call it a curse for such boring reasons. Like ‘ooh, they’re evil creatures of the night’ or whatever. So I just wrote them off.”

“THAT’S FAIR, ACTUALLY,” Bill chuckled.

“Anyway, the point is,” Mabel concluded, opening the front door and waving Bill in like a fancy bellhop, “Maybe things aren’t great right now, but at least you’re not a vampire. Count your blessings.”

“YEAH, YEAH,” Bill said, rolling his eye as he entered the shack. “I GUESS THINGS COULD BE WO-OOOH WHAT THE HELL IS THAT”

Mabel spun to see what he’d screamed at, hand on her grappling hook again, but was greeted by Waddles lumbering up from the living room to greet her. She squealed with delight and held out her arms to catch his big pudgy head as he shoved it into her sweater, snuffling happily. “I missed you too, baby boy!” she cooed, squishing his chubby pink cheeks as he nuzzled against her.

After a bit, she happened to glance up at Bill, and couldn’t suppress a laugh. He was staring up at Waddles with by far the most baffled expression she’d ever seen in a single eye. “HOW LONG WAS I GONE?” he finally asked, stepping forward and then quickly backing up as Waddles, who was a full head taller than him now, started to snuffle curiously toward him.

“Oh, yeah. It’s June 2013.” Mabel diverted Waddles’ attention with more face rubs, and he went back to cuddling her. “Turns out farm pigs get really big, really fast! My dad was less than pleased!”

Bill just kept staring as Waddles flopped over onto the floor with a heavy thunk, his energy spent. “...NOTED,” he said. He gave the pig a wide berth as he followed Mabel further into the house. As affronted as she was at the notion of anyone finding Waddles “scary”, Mabel couldn’t really blame him for being cautious. There was a non-zero chance that Waddles might mistake him for a piece of cheese at some point.

“That’s why I’m such a good cyclist now, by the way,” Mabel said, leading Bill downstairs toward Gay Baby Jail. “Dad was like, ‘okay, we can keep the pig, but only if you raise enough money to buy all the stuff we need and build a shed for him and stuff!’ So I did a morning paper route every single day for like six months. And Dipper did a bunch of odd jobs to help raise enough money, and in the end we paid for everything Waddles needed and Mom called Dad out like “You signed a CONTRACT, Robert!” So Waddles got to stay.”

“YOU DID HARD LABOR FOR A PIG?” Bill laughed derisively. “YOU COULD’VE JUST BLACKMAILED HIM, KID! I SAW YOUR DREAMS LAST SUMMER, YOU’VE GOT SOME SERIOUS DIRT ON ROB PINES–”

“Anyway,” Mabel said loudly. “My legs are super strong now. Put me on one of those big hamster wheels, I could power California for like a week.” With that, she threw open the door.

Light spilled from the hallway into Gay Baby Jail, and Mabel couldn’t help but wince a bit. She ducked inside and scooped up some of the snack wrappers still lying on the floor. “We can spruce it up a little,” she said. “Add some fun posters, some gamer lights, maybe a lava lamp… more furniture too, ideally… I mean, hey, it’s a blank slate, right? Infinite possibilities! That’s exciting!”

Bill looked around with a half-lidded eye. “MYTHOLOGICAL SCHOLAR, ELECTRICIAN, REALTOR… REGULAR JACK OF ALL TRADES, AIN’T YA?”

“You bet!” Mabel chirped. She knew he was trying to be rude, and she didn’t care. “I can make this work. I’m great at everything. Heck, I bet I can even make it fun!”

Bill laughed. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but she thought it sounded more amused than contemptuous. “I’LL TAKE YOU UP ON THAT. SOME CASH COULDN’T HURT RIGHT NOW.”

Through the window above, Mabel heard an engine approaching. “We’ll figure that out later,” she said. “I better go meet them. I’ll be back with food later, the bathroom and stuff’s back there… just stay here until I get back, okay?”

“WAIT, HOLD ON,” he blurted out, and she stopped mid-door-slam. “YOU’RE NOT GONNA TELL THEM I’M HERE. RIGHT?”

“...Yeah. Not yet.” Mabel shifted uncomfortably. “Not until I can think of how to break it to them…”

“KID, LISTEN.” Bill’s voice was grave. “YOUR UNCLES CANNOT FIND OUT ABOUT ME. PINETREE, MAYBE. MAYBE THAT’D BE FINE. BUT STAN AND FORD? NO CHANCE. THEY CAN’T FIND OUT.”

Mabel frowned, clenching the hem of her sweater in her fists. “I mean… I could get them to listen–”

“NO. ” His voice ricocheted around the tiny room. “FORD SPENT HALF HIS LIFE TRYING TO KILL ME AT ALL COSTS. STAN DID KILL ME, AND EVEN IF IT WAS JUST DUMB LUCK, HE MIGHT HIT THAT JACKPOT AGAIN! IF THEY FIND ME HERE, THEY WILL KILL ME, AND I HAVE NO WAY TO STOP THEM. AND I CAN’T GO BACK, OKAY? I’M NOT GOING BACK!!”

Mabel had been backing away on instinct; she realized it when her back hit the wall of the hallway. But the shock snapped her out of her fear, and she stomped back in and yelled “HEY!”

Bill went quiet. He stared at her in shock.

“I don’t want to send you back, Bill,” she said. Her voice was shaking a little, residual fear clinging to her throat, but her tone was firm. “That’s the whole point of all this. If I wanted you dead, you wouldn’t be here.”

Bill just blinked. For once, he didn’t seem to have anything to say.

“I’m not going to tell them yet,” she said. “And when I do, I’ll warn you first. And I’ll have a plan. I’ll make sure they don’t kill you, okay?” Unless they have to, she added in her head. She figured it went without saying.

“...OKAY. GOOD.” Bill looked off-balance, like he hadn’t expected to get this far.

“And you’ll make sure I don’t regret helping you. Right?”

“RIGHT. PROMISE.” Then, reluctantly, right before the door closed: “...THANK YOU.”

Mabel didn’t buy that for a second. He was definitely up to something. But Stan’s car was pulling up outside, and again, it was too late to backpedal. She gave a short wave and then slammed and locked the door behind her, scurrying upstairs to sit on the couch with Waddles in the living room, like she’d been there all along, just in time to look totally natural when the front door opened.

“Of course there are still a few small issues with the auto-scaling.” Ford’s voice rang through the house. “But really, the problems it causes are negligible.”

“How ‘bout the time that kraken almost sunk the boat because you tried to set it to 1.5 and forgot the decimal?”

“That was human error, Stanley, that had nothing to do with the prototype–”

“Welcome back, guys!” Mabel rushed up to them, Waddles lumbering behind her to shove his face into Dipper’s shirt.

“Hey pumpkin!” Stan ruffled Mabel’s hair. “You really did beat us home!”

“Told you she was fast on that bike!” Dipper said, petting Waddles and trying to stop him from chewing on his hat. “You see now why I couldn’t keep up with her?”

“Yeah, I’m a superhero, basically,” Mabel preened. “Watch, I’ll go carry all the beach stuff inside by myself. It won’t even be hard.”

“No need!” Ford piped up excitedly. With a flourish, he produced a tiny box and what looked like a laser pointer from his coat pocket. Stan started to say something, but before he could get a word out, Ford tossed the box into the air and zapped it with the laser pointer. In a sudden flash of purple light, the box and its contents grew into full-sized beach chairs, pool floaties, picnic supplies and everything else they’d brought to the lake. It all hit the floor with a crash.

“It’s a more efficient take on the shape-changing flashlight you two invented,” Ford explained. “It auto-scans an object’s default dimensions and can rescale them by any multiple you want with the push of a button! Turns out it makes packing a breeze–”

“Sixer!” Stan yelled with a frustrated laugh. “The whole point of using that thing was to not have to carry that stuff to the garage! Now it’s all piled up in front of the door!”

Ford winced. “Oh. Right.”

“I got it!” Mabel leapt into action. Heroically, she grabbed up all the heaviest things in the pile, started to run for the garage, tripped on a chair leg, and fell on her face. She was laughing before she even hit the ground, and soon they all were.

Dipper reached a hand down to help her up. “Hold on, doofus. I got your back.”

—

Luckily for Bill, the walls of his temporary room were insulated enough to drown out almost any sound before it reached the rest of the shack. It would be hard to make enough noise to give himself away.

Unluckily for Bill, Gay Baby Jail was not particularly good at keeping out noise from the rest of the shack. The ceiling, in particular, was like a steel drum with how every step and jump and fumble of the Pines upstairs echoed through it with painful clarity. It sounded like they were playing a rousing game of “Who Can Throw The Heaviest Thing on the Floor”. And the familiar sound of Ford’s obnoxious hiking boots tromping across the floor, like heavy cloven hooves, echoed loudest of all. And Bill was supposed to be the demon here.

He curled up on the beanbag chair and tried to block out the sound with a blanket. Not that he had ears that he knew of, but he had to try something. It wasn’t just the stomping and the crashing. It was the laughing. They were laughing up there, shrill and careless, like a hoard of jackals. This family of traitors and murderers. They put him in the ground, and they were laughing.

He tried to reroute his train of thought. Things weren’t all bad. In fact, they were a lot better now than they were yesterday. He had a roof over his head– thin and noisy as it was– and he had a plan. He just had to wait until they all fell asleep. Then he’d sneak out and assess things. Scope out the area, find out what he needed for the portal and what was here to work with. He knew there were a lot of useful tools and parts hidden in the shack’s various storage rooms, and he knew where to find the things that weren’t here. He had plenty of time to figure it all out.

And best of all, he had an ally. A mole in the enemy camp. His eye crinkled with amusement at the thought. Ford’s own precious little niece working against him in secret. He couldn’t let him find out, of course. But by god, if he ever did, Bill hoped he’d get to see the look on his face.

It was a really lucky break that Shooting Star was the one to find him. The universe owed him a little luck at this point, he supposed. She was the least intolerable of all the Pines by far; that wasn’t a high bar to clear, but it was something. She was compulsively helpful and much too nice for her own good. She was even kind of fun to talk to; her goofy, weird non-sequiturs were hard not to smile at. And she was perhaps the only person in Gravity Falls who was dumb enough to help him.

No. Not dumb. That was the wrong word. She wasn’t dumb, not really. He knew she was clever from how things went last year, and he could tell from their conversations that she wasn’t naive enough to really trust him. She wasn’t dumb. She was something even better. She was optimistic. That meant that even if she saw red flags, even if she started to notice something fishy, chances were good that she’d still look past them, still hold out hope that she was making the right choice. She’d have hope. And that would be her downfall.

His eye drifted shut. Everything would be fine. All the pieces were in place. He just had to play the game until the portal was ready, and then he’d be home free.

The trick would be staying sane until then.

[the-universal-sun]

I’ve been feeling a bit “blah” and apathetic today, so I wanted to write some head canons about a regressed Stan when he has those days. As always, I’m always open to helpful comments! Please enjoy!

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-It’s easy to see when Lee is feeling down-for Ford at least. Some may think otherwise given Stan’s disinclination towards speaking when he’s feeling small, but Ford can read his brothers body language fluently

-When he’s feeling…not bad but all-in-all “blah”, Lee isn’t as playful as he usually is. He just sits or lays there, absentmindedly scribbling or running a toy car back and forth, making no effort to make his cute little “zoom” noises or to draw a cohesive figure

-Lee doesn’t know why, sometimes he just feels bored in a way? He doesn’t know how to describe it. there are days where nothing really interests him and he just wants to nap all day

-Ford when this first started happening, kind of panicked and tried engaging Lee in activities he usually loved or things that were reserved for special occasions, none of which worked. This sent Ford into a spiral thinking it was something he did wrong. He just sat there, holding Lee and rocking him until he was feeling big again

-Stan explained that sometimes he gets like this for a day-kind of apathetic and feeling “blah”-but he’ll be fine the next day. All he needs is some patience. Ford of course throws himself full bodily into research. And in conclusion, whenever Stan or Lee are feeling a bit down and out, he just needs to breathe, not panic, and to be patient with him

-So, when Lee is feeling apathetic, Ford makes sure that Lee knows that’s is completely okay to feel that way, but he does give him some small tasks with clear goals to help him get engaged, just a little. He’ll ask Lee to draw or color him a specific picture, to help put together lunch or dinner-handing Ford different ingredients-or asking Lee to help him clean up the Shack/Boat. Small things that just help Lee get up and move and interact with the world. Ford always make sure to thank and praise Lee for his help and the pretty pictures too. Praise does make his Sweet Boy blush and become a bit more energetic

-Ford of course will let Lee curl up with his stuffies and weighted blanket against or near Ford and nap, checking up in him every hour or so to see how he’s doing. Lee may be mostly non-verbal when Little, but they learned some sign to communicate without forcing Lee to speak. That and, again, Ford can read Lee’s body language well enough to know if he needs help

-Lee, and later Stan, always appreciates Ford’s efforts to help him in this state of mind, and he tries his best to show it. He’s not good with words, but he’s great with physical affection. He’ll give Ford an extra hard hug, nuzzle into the junction between his shoulder and neck, and occasionally, a big, wet kiss of Ford’s cheek. Ford may act grossed out, but Lee knows his big brother likes it, his smile gives it away

-Ford will always worry about his little brother, no matter his headspace. He wants to just fix all of his problems so his brother can live happy and peacefully, but he knows that sometimes, all he can do is just be there for him and catch him if he falls. He loves Stan in all forms, so he’ll always be there for him, his good days and his bad ones.