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practicing animation in clip studio with dust!

roughs under the cut for anyone interested

rough sketch

lined

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Ford’s love for & view of Stan pre-memory erasing: a lengthy analysis

A big misunderstanding going on in this fandom is the idea that Stan was the one yearning for Ford while Ford was too busy hating Stan (at worst) or at least thinking he hated Stan (at best), too focused on his research and academic accomplishments to pay his repressed/heavily denied love for Stan any mind, up until Stan’s sacrifice in Weirdmageddon. Ambitious, self-centered Ford, who would be shocked at the preposterous idea that he still loved Stan deep down if, say, his post-Weirdmageddon future self revealed it to him. “I thought I hated you, but I was wrong,” old Ford says to Stan, remorseful... and painfully out-of-character!

Another very popular idea is that Ford genuinely values the greater good over Stan, to the point he wouldn’t have rescued Stan if their positions were reversed. This idea is so rooted in people’s minds that when Ford’s most dedicated fans attempt to defend him, they argue that he was right to be angry about being rescued from the portal because Stan was acting irresponsibly (as if Ford wouldn’t have done the same thing). This is not about anyone in particular—it’s a tendency I’ve seen repeated again and again and again, in different ages of this fandom.

The gap between Stan needing Ford vs Ford needing Stan is so big in some people’s minds that they seem to think that poor, guilty Ford ending up with Stan all alone on a boat wasn’t the best ending for him. That was just Alex trying to make a point about “family above all” in a show about family, teaching Ford a lesson, and rewarding Stan’s unhealthy codependency...

It’s just incredible how Ford’s own love and yearning towards Stan is shoved under the rug by the fans!

I understand why, of course. Ford is arguably the most complex character in Gravity Falls. His love for Stan is shown more subtly than Stan’s love for him. You have to actually pay close attention, and often enough people aren’t invested enough in the Stan twins’ relationship to do so. Sometimes because they’re more invested in the relationship of Stan and/or Ford with other characters, and this is not throwing shade, either—on my part, I can admit I am so invested in them that I don’t care as much for other characters, and that’s natural.

My most controversial takes here are: 1) Ford has always known he loved Stan. Yes, even at his most bitter. He just didn’t think Stan was worthy of that love. 2) Ford valued his family, including Stan, over any noble ideal of greater good. 3) Ford missed Stan and yearned for his company just as much as Stan missed Ford and yearned for his company. I have dedicated this particular meta to pointing out not all moments (that would make it longer than Tolstoy’s War and Peace, just by the amount of times Ford mentions Stan in his journal) but the most telling ones re: Ford’s repressed but obvious love for Stan and their implications. I’ll break it into a few different subjects that I believe drive my point across.

Ford’s sentimentality over Stan:

A good place to start as any. Stan is in literally everything Ford does, sometimes in ways so subtle that people miss it, and in ways that Ford himself would love to deny, even if it meant lying to himself. Ford is very, very sentimental, and that is reflected in his relationship with Stan through the decades, with all the different paths he takes to cling to his past and the idea of his brother.

Let’s explore some examples, shall we? We don’t need to go far.

First of all, the Mystery Shack cottage, commissioned by Ford and built by Dan Corduroy according to Journal 3, is clearly based off a childhood toy he shared with Stan.

It doesn’t stop there, of course. Ford loves his boat motif decorations. (At least the boat on top of the shelf is very likely Ford’s choice of décor, and not Stan’s, given that it’s placed beside Ford’s shrunken heads referenced in Journal 3; we know that the boat painting belongs to one of the Stan twins and not Dipper, since it was already there in Tourist Trapped as Dipper arrives. I think it’s fair to assume, given the boat on top of the shelf, that it was also Ford’s.)

And would you look at that, his favorite place in his beloved Gravity Falls, a town full of wondrous places full of fantastical anomalies and literally a weirdness magnet, is, for some reason, a lake. A very weird lake? A very cool lake? No, a lake that reminded him of his childhood, aka Stan (as seen by the drawing of a boat and the codified message). “There is no other place in Gravity Falls I would rather be than the lake.”

But that isn’t enough for Ford. He must keep, still, pictures and videos of Stan. I won’t even focus, here, on the picture of the Pines family that Ford stares at in the beginning of his college days, despite Stan and Ford being at the very center of it and it being a visual parallel to Stan’s own picture of him and his brother. That one included Filbrick and Caryn, and the speaker had just mentioned making one’s family proud. But what about the rest?

People usually focus on the overall adorableness of, say, Ford leaning his head on Stan’s shoulders or Ford’s apologies (again, in Journal 3) to notice the implications of what Dipper says: “Ford even found an old film reel of them as kids, which he amazingly saved all these years.” Even Dipper himself is amazed. I’ve seen people assuming that Ford had these and forgot about them, or that Caryn was the one to send him these and he simply agreed to avoid a fight (there is a tendency in this fandom to think of her as a very doting and/or caring mother, but we have no evidence to think so, as explained here). Years later, TBoB was like, “nuh-uh, that was all Ford Pines!” In TBoB, Ford not only does remember some of these itens, but he makes a conscious effort to hide them from Fiddleford, worried that his friend was getting “too close” (to what? to the inner depths of his heart and mind, where Stanley was?) “I’ve quickly re-hidden here, away from prying eyes.”

And a picture of teenage Stan (as seen below), too! You would think he would just attach himself to the idealized version of baby Stan in his head to feed his nostalgia and completely ignore teenage Stan, the traitor, the one who destroyed his science project. But no, Ford wouldn’t be Ford if he acted consistently about Stan. The funniest thing to me about the ripped yearbook page is that it implies Ford made the conscious decision to include Stan as he ripped the page off, when he could have just focused on his own picture. And then we also have his drawing of Stan, a perfectly accurate portrayal of Stan’s face as he got kicked out, implying that not only he paid an enormous amount of attention to his brother and how he looked like back then (after he closed the curtains), but that particular image was living rent free in his brain. Very vividly. With details.

Now, folks, do we have any doubt whatsoever of the power Stan had in Ford’s psyche? Seeing that this is how the bedrock of Ford’s mind looked like? The boat, the swing set? I’ve seen it suggested before that these items represent Ford’s greatest regrets—I don’t know if I fully agree with that take, seeing as the swing set is fully intact, unlike in Stan’s mind, but one thing is true: they represent what Ford deep down thinks is most important, and two of three are directly related to Stan. Even the portal, from a certain angle, is connected to Stan.

Now, another thing that I believe to be related to that, is the claim that Ford didn’t spare Stan a single tought in the many decades they went separated. But here is Ford, casually confessing that he spent the last thirty years thinking of Stan:

But back to pictures. According to Alex in the commentary of Weirdmageddon 3: Take Back the Falls, that picture of Stan has always been in Ford’s coat pocket, through all the decades, even before Bill’s betrayal. That’s why it’s so damaged. He was dimension hopping with it. I don’t think I even need to make any comment here, hahah.

I almost imagine if McGucket found that photo in his, you know, coat while they’re working on the portal or something... [imitating Fiddleford’s creaky voice] “What’s this? What’s this here?” And Ford says, [imitating Ford’s deep, very serious voice] “OH, yes. That’s a very important moment, that’s when I, um, first decided I wanted to be an adventurer.” [...] There would be NO reference to... the real reason he’s keeping it [...]. “Oh yes, this is about, uh, science, as a horizon, as a frontier to reach towards. You know, like a boat, like a ship, like science. It’s about SCIENCE!”

Ford’s protectiveness:

Stan Pines is very much ones of Ford’s weaknesses. Ford knows this and accepts this with shocking ease. How so? Well, first of all, the nightmare he had. As he tells us about it in Journal 3, even though he attempts to make light of the situation, his hand is clearly trembling as he writes, making drops of ink splatter on the page. The climax of his nightmare, the peak, the scariest moment was when Ford realized he was not the one at risk; rather, Stan was. “I realized my hand wasn’t chasing after me at all—it was chasing after my brother, and it was going to squeeze him to death!”And then, may it be noticed, there was no hesitation whatsoever on Ford’s part about whether to save Stan or not, nor does he try to hide his protective reaction. It was immediate and instinctive. “I tried to run to help him, but my feet were frozen.” It’s very telling that the Dream Hipster, the nightmare inducing ghost, thought that Stanley Pines would be the most effective thing to make Ford shake in his boots. Not even, say, failing and being ridiculed by other scientists, considering how ambitious he was.

And you know who else has noticed this weakness? Bill Cipher, of course. After psychologically, emotionally, and physically abusing Ford in horrific manners (including but not limited to: forcing him to eat spiders, driving a nail into his hand, and making him wake up on the snowy roof of the Mystery Shack as a symbolic threat of forced suicide), Bill involves Stan, as the grand finale. “But then he crossed a line.” Why was Ford’s brother that line, after everything Ford himself went through? “No. He wouldn’t.” Ford couldn’t even believe Bill’s audacity in involving Stan, even though he very much already knew Bill was as evil as evil could get. Because Bill knew, having free access to Ford’s mind, how terribly important Stan was: the person Ford loved the most in the world, more than himself.

You could still argue, then, that Ford wasn’t very protective of homeless Stan. After all, how could he have allowed his brother to be homeless in the first place?

Simple: he didn’t know. There’s a lot of things about mullet!Stan that Ford didn’t know! From canon, namely TBoB and Journal 3, we can deduce that Ford didn’t think of him as homeless, thought he was doing well for himself, living a well traveled charlatan/adventurer’s life, perhaps even a friend/member of the mob:

As Stan was kicked out, he told Ford (and the rest of the family), “Fine! I can make it on my own! I don’t need you! I don’t need anyone! I’ll make millions and you’ll rue the day you turned your back on me!” The way I see it, Ford took that at face value. Stan didn’t seek Ford out in those ten years, either, presumably out of a mix of pride, shame and self-hatred, so Ford could only assume Stan truly didn’t need him. Despite the many, many crossed out mentions of Stan in Journal 3, I think Ford at least tried to not let his mind linger on thoughts about Stan too much, because that hurt.

In his most recent interview, by HanaHyperfixates and ThatGFFan in 2023/2024, Alex talked about Ford’s issues:

He’s aloof, and distant, and he’s too perfect. And it’s like, “oh! I think he’s also aloof and distant from himself.”

I think he is, uh, deeply deeply hiding from his real feelings about things, because at some point early on, he decided that he could run from hurt by achievement and by creation, and has dug that hole so deep that he has no relationships.

If he sees achievement and creation as distractions from his real feelings, no wonder Stan didn’t get a call (or a postcard) from him earlier.

We also have Ford’s condescending, but protective, attitude towards Stan in TBoB as he considers asking for his help. Condescending protectiveness, if you will:

Notice how Ford briefly looks at Stan when Stan rants about his life:

A very ☹️ face. He’s probably surprised and concerned about what he’s hearing.

And then Stan, unfortunately but understandably, starts insulting/accusing him of selfishness:

You can notice the ☹️ face slowly becoming 😠 as Stan started attacking.

Again, when Ford accidentally hurts Stan by branding him:

That’s not even ☹️ anymore, it’s almost 😩! Things would probably have deescalated and perhaps even been fixed if Stan, unfortunately but understandably, hadn’t punched Ford in the face as retaliation.

“Oh, but what about old Ford kicking Stan out after everything, then?”

I think a lot of people who talk about this moment operate under the assumption that Stan was, well, completely and thoroughly screwed if Ford followed with his original man. An old man, no place to go, no money...

But Stan did have money. A lot.

No, really, he had, per his own words, in the extra commentary of Land Before Swine:

I do have a son, Benjamin Abe Hamilton Washington. This pile of money I’ve collected over the years! That’s my true family. Y’know, I can sorta glue it together into the shape of a child, maybe… Eh, I dunno. I do my best, right? And I do have—I do actually—not to brag, but I have an obscene amount of money. Uh, y’know, all the years of collecting and etcetera—and also grifting!

I’m not defending Ford’s actions here. Ford is my favorite character, but I’m not a Ford defender, hahah. You could still argue that what he did was an ungrateful, jerky move, and I would agree. I’m just against painting it as a “Ford doesn’t care at all about Stan’s safety” moment. Especially because, when Ford told Stan he wanted his house back, sufficient time had already passed. Enough for Ford to change his clothes, visibly, and enough for them to have had a talk, in which Stan could have revealed this little fact about himself.

Another thing I’d like to address is that Ford doesn’t hesitate at all to save Stan when he gets into trouble and acts natural about it, which is way more that we can say for Stan (as seen by how Stan reacts when Ford is kidnapped by Probabilitor the Annoying and when Ford is turned into a golden statue by Bill):

Again, not saying that Stan wasn’t justified in not wanting to help/save Ford after Ford’s blatant ungratefulness (I’m also sure he didn’t know Bill was actually torturing Ford). Not the point.

Now, back to Bill.

What I always loved about his little victory moment in Weirdmageddon 3: Take Back the Falls is that upon surprising his enemies with his appearance, he proceeds to turn everyone into tapestry, including even Fiddleford (whom we know Ford cares a lot about!) but forces himself to spare Stan and the kids and place them inside the cages, even though they didn’t know the equation and would have zero usefulness to him. That could only be because he thought he could use them against Ford, so Stan was obviously included (instead of turned into tapestry or outright killed) for that very purpose. From a Doylist perspective, of course they couldn’t have excluded Stan, since he was one of the main characters; for the sake of character analysis, though, this is the best explanation in-universe.

That is why, when Stan-as-Ford tells Bill, “My only condition is that you let my brother and the kids go!” Bill easily believes him. Because he thought that it would be in-character for Ford. And Bill wouldn’t be wrong, not at all. He wouldn’t, because Ford himself was the one to tell Stan, just a moment earlier: “We need to take his deal. It’s the only way he’ll agree to save you and the kids.” It’s blaffling to me how many fans seem to forget Ford’s own words, and the fact Ford was very, very much willing to damn the whole universe (with seven billion people living on Earth at the time) to save three (3) people, including Stan. That Stan himself was the one to oppose and stop him. I think that happens because people buy Ford’s facade of Cold Responsible Greater Good Guy, which couldn’t be more deceiving. At this point I’m begging you guys to look deeper!

One common misconception about Ford’s character—not only Ford, but many, many fictional characters I have had the pleasure of considering blorbos—is that people take his facade at face value and judge him based off that. You’re falling for his bullshit. You’re looking at Ford and seeing exactly the man he wants you to see, instead of the man he is.

Ford demonstrated being hypocritical many, many times through the show, the comics, his journal, and even TBoB. I would go so far as to say it’s a Known Personality Trait of his. He chews Stan’s ass for being selfish, reckless, a criminal. Then proceeds to be: selfish and completely unaware of it, ten times more reckless, and a much more dangerous kind of criminal. He reproaches Stan for risking the world for only one person, but would have done the same thing.

Now, the last point of this particular subject: Ford and the erasing of Stan’s memories, which is sometimes interpreted as Ford prioritizing the greater good, or the kids’ safety, over Stan.

Dear reader, Ford erased Stan’s memories because he had literally no other choice. This is what Ford said to him: “He’ll be able to take over the galaxy and maybe even worse, but at least he might let the kids free.” Emphasis on the might, here. Might! Perhaps! Maybe! Perchance! Ford, in this line, was referring to Bill’s immediate threat to the kids’ lives—Bill had, after all, ran after Dipper and Mabel with a terrifying threat of disassembling their molecules as their grunkles were forced to watch inside their cage, powerless to stop him. After reflecting about their whole situation, he included Stan’s safety in the deal, too, now more certain than ever about his decision to sacrifice not only himself but, in his own words, “the galaxy” (and later, “the universe,” as he was pretending to be Stan) to, again, perhaps (!!!) save his family. Ford had literally no guarantee Bill would follow through with his words. Given Bill’s track record, it was way, way more likely that he wouldn’t. Bill is a liar and a manipulator through and through, one who takes great enjoyment in people’s suffering. Ford’s suffering, specifically, above all, since TBoB painted Bill as this toxic and possessive ex obsessed with his pet scientist. What were the chances?

Even if Bill, through some miracle, did end up keeping his word, we saw Bill’s plans for Earth in his daydream fantasies: taking a bite off the planet, drawing a smiley face on its surface as millions died... What a guy, that Bill! If the Earth was wrecked beyond repair, where would Stan and the kids live? How would they survive among all the chaos and destruction of the literal apocalypse? With nightmarish creatures lurking in every corner? With what food, what water, what shelter? Answer: they likely wouldn’t. The probability of human survival would be abysmally low.

Ford, tragically, had no other choice but to sacrifice Stan’s memories. It was that or risking the possibility of having to watch his family, including Stan, die horribly painful deaths at Bill’s sadistic hands or to condemn his family, including Stan, to a slower but still certain death after the entire human race perished.

Ford being aware of his love for Stan:

I have faith that most people already knew, to some extent, that Ford never stopped loving Stan, even at his angriest. A much lower percentage of these people, I believe, know that Ford himself was very much aware of that, and not in denial at all. He never even thought he hated Stan.

First, I choose to point out how young adult Ford, still in college, with his bitterness and resentment still very fresh, admits to missing Stan. He wrote, “MISS YOU” in their Bro Code, the code he memorized and never forgot. He not only thought about Stan, which would be understandable, since all of us have intrusive thoughts, but he took the time to write it down, and in code, which would be even more difficult than just writing it in English. That requires at least some level of acceptance. You may not be able to filter your thoughts, but you are able to filter your writing.

Ford does attempt to filter his writing, I know, by crossing out a lot of lines in Journal 3, most of them about Stan. But he does not cross out all of it. He freely admits to having a nightmare about Stan, to wanting to protect Stan from the giant six-fingered hand, to having the lake as his favorite place, to missing Stan. I think that Ford, if asked about his love for Stan back then, would also freely admit to it, as well. Stan is his twin brother, so of course he loves Stan.

One thing that always caught my attention is how Ford still refers to Stan as his “family” in the Journal, even after Stan’s attempt to disown him. Stan makes it pretty clear that, from now on, his “family” is just Mabel and Dipper:

Days after this, Ford didn’t seem to have taken this to heart, as seen by what he wrote in his Journal:

It’s way more likely than not that he IS including Stan, here. He says “the rest of the Pines,” instead of just “the children” or “the kids” or “the twins,” and even singles out Dipper as someone he trusts (contrasted with Stan and Mabel, whom he doesn’t).

I wonder if that’s just Ford being stubborn or if he really thinks his relationship with Stan is in a somewhat better place than it actually is.

I mean, for instance, this is their swingset (symbol of their relationship) in Stan’s mind:

And here it is Ford’s mind:

Still ominous, but very noticeably intact.

It’s ironic—I think that Ford was aware of his own love for Stan, but not aware of how damaged their relationship was from Stan’s POV.

Ford and stubborness:

I’ve also seen people saying that, if Stan hadn’t sacrificed himself, Ford would have continued, quote unquote, “hating” him. Or that his happy ending with Stan was a byproduct of his guilt over the same sacrifice, and not out of a genuine desire to reconnect with Stan. According to Alex’s commentary on this scene in Weirdmageddon 3: Take Back the Falls, that isn’t true, either:

This whole sort of conclusion here is—what we needed to happen in this scene was—we needed pressure to be at the point where Stan and Ford recognize their lifelong rivalry and Ford does a sincere apology to Stan. And almost more importantly, he acknowledges Stan’s intelligence. Like, he says, “you wouldn’t have fallen for Bill’s nonsense,” like, he recognizes his brother has a kind of intelligence that he doesn’t. [...] And even though it’s Stan who agrees to—“I’ll be the one! Erase my mind! It’s fine. It’s worth it.”—like, it’s a sacrifice for both, like, Ford at this point is willing to get his brother back and has to lose him again. Like, both of them were... just doing what they have to do here.

This means that Ford was already wanting to reconnect with Stan before Stan offered to sacrifice his own memories. His comment about how Stan wouldn’t have fallen for Bill’s flattery wasn’t just self-reproach or some comfort to Stan, but a conscious attempt to soften things between them.

Which also means Stan’s offer to sacrifice himself wasn’t actually necessary for Ford to forgive him (or switch the blame entirely, more like, and start blaming himself instead) but just came at the worst possible moment. It was too late for them, now.

Reconciling Ford’s love for Stan with his treatment of Stan:

Now, we arrive at the last problem, which is something I’ve seen a lot of people struggling with. How to even reconcile Ford’s love for Stan, something we see hints of again and again, with his treatment of Stan?

First, this infamous line in Journal 3, which is arguably the most vicious (towards Stan) Ford ever was in canon:

That’s probably also related to Ford’s control freak tendencies. If Ford admits to himself he is not in control, that he needs help from other people, that he is really that desperate... Well, he can’t admit that, so he rationalizes his way out of that conclusion by convincing himself he would be the one doing Stan a favor (offering him the chance to prove himself to Ford), and not the other way around. He doesn’t need Stan, he doesn’t need anyone; Stan is the one who needs him and his forgiveness. (This is the moment I get the urge to reference a manga protagonist with a very similar control freak mindset, Light Yagami from Death Note. Why am I always attracted to characters with deep cognitive dissonance issues who desperately shape their own narrative to convince themselves of their full control over it? Like a moth to a flame.)

Don’t get me wrong, I do believe Ford looked down on Stan—on people in general. There’s plenty of evidence for that in both Journal 3 and Word of God, if you count Word of God as evidence. Ford himself admits to that after Weirdmageddon. And let’s not forget what is probably the biggest elephant in the room, the 2016 TVInsider interview (if you’re nerdy enough to read such a long meta, you’re likely nerdy enough to have seen this quote already):

In terms of Stan and his brother’s conflict, we always wanted a moment where Ford saw that he was wrong. Ford’s spent an entire life imagining himself as this lone solitary hero and imagining his brother as this bumbling leech. From a narrative point of view, for Ford to see Stan be the hero finally lets Ford see the true side of his brother that he’s been too blinded by pride to see.

Ah, yes. Ford looking down on Stan enough to think of him as a “bumbling leech.” To most people, this sounds way harsher than “selfish jerk,” the term Ford himself used in Journal 3.

Fittingly enough, that was in the same interview Alex said Ford would have deserved to lose Stan:

If Stan had lost his memory for good, that would [have] provided some interesting narrative places for him and his brother to go, but ultimately the show is about the kids. Stan and his brother are meant to be a parable [that show] what can go wrong in a family relationship, [but also] show that, with hard work and sacrifice, the riff can be repaired. If Stan’s memory had been fully erased, it wouldn’t punish him so much because he’d be gone, but it would punish Ford, Dipper and Mabel most. Even though Ford might deserve that punishment, Dipper and Mabel do not.

The interesting thing here, though, is exactly that: losing Stan would be a punishment to Ford. Why? Because it would hurt. Why? Because Ford loved him. Enough, it seems, that he would suffer more with it than Stan himself would.

I think what confuses people so much is that they conflate love with like with admiration with trust with respect. They think of it as the same thing—a confusing, amorphous mass of positive feelings towards someone.

The way I see it, though, Dipper was someone Ford loved (considering love a deeply rooted, complex emotion), liked (felt general fondness/amiability towards), and trusted (to be capable of handling all the mystery stuff). Mabel was someone he loved (she was family), liked (she was weird and creative and pure-hearted!), but didn’t trust (due to his constant projecting; before anyone attempts do deny this, I’ll remind you that Ford himself admits in Journal 3 that Dipper was the only family member whom he had come to trust). Stan was someone he didn’t like nor trust, not anymore, certainly didn’t admire and—let’s be honest—barely respected (or didn’t respect at all, depending on your point of view), but still loved with the fierce intensity of one thousand suns.

I do believe Alex is at least mindful of the difference between love and respect, as seen by his commentary on Stan’s condescending love for Mabel in Land Before Swine:

But this idea that Waddles is sort of a metaphor for what Mabel loves. And Stan loves Mabel but he doesn’t—he doesn’t really think that anything she thinks is necessarily smart or right. You know, he loves like her, ah, she’s my sweet niece, but [Stan’s voice] “she doesn’t know anything.”

In the same interview by HanaHyperfixates and ThatGFFan referenced earlier in this post, Alex revealed his view of the Stan twins’ relationship:

Those characters at sea—it was so rich. They’re really really funny, because they both have major major blind spots. I can kinda write stories about them as a duo forever, because you can always excuse them both getting hyped on a bad idea for their own reasons, and then you can always come up with a reason for them to disagree about it, and it’s always sweet to see them come together again, because they’re so full of themselves, but they are also both so damaged they desperately need each other.

As you can see, the codependency is genuinely mutual, not something imposed on poor, guilty Ford after Weirdmageddon. One thing I find really interesting about Ford is his black & white mindset, the fact that the only way he knows how to be with Stan is a codependent way. They’re either separated and estranged or sailing completely alone on a boat for the rest of their lives. Either rivals or best friends forever. There’s no middle ground for him.

Dipper tells us in Journal 3: “Still, it’s taken about a week of intensive scrapbook therapy to get Stan fully back to himself. [...] Ford’s been working at it the hardest.” Ford was the one putting the most effort in getting Stan back. Despite all, I believe Ford is the person who loves Stan the most. Not the one who loves Stan better—that one would be Mabel, I believe, or Soos, who are non-judgemental and understanding. But Ford is the one who loves him with the most intensity, which is fascinating because for most of the show he doesn’t even know how to love Stan, as exemplified by his treatment of him. Too fierce, too selfish, too much of everything.

[mag-notta]

A tale of two stan

[mag-notta]

(After some time)

Been wanting to do a comic on Wendy finding out she’s on the aromantic spectrum, specifically Lithromantic, after really liking the idea of her being Lithro. Included Stan as well since I headcanon him as Lithro as well so Wendy has someone who understands.

[mag-notta]

Oh ok so it turns out ive been borrowing grief from the future ! it turns out ive been preparing to lose the things i love rather than basking in the light of them while they last. Maybe i should nt do that

[mag-notta]

im trying so hard not to sob violently in the car right now

Ok, but like, what if there was an AU where Stan died when Ford shot him with the memory gun. Maybe deleting his entire mind caused fatal brain damage and he died. But he still doesn't remember anything. His spirit has no memory of who he is or about anything. So the Axolotl picked him up, a brave and lost soul, and made him the spirit guardian of Gravity Falls, making sure he keeps evil away from the town. For some reason he's very attached to that cabin just outside of the small town and the people and the kids who regularly go there, especially to the old man who looks almost exactly like him, save from the extra fingers.

Maybe the Mystery Shack still runs under Soos' care, because that's something Stan worked for his whole life. Closing it and basically ruining everything Stan worked for for 30 years... Didn't sit right with anyone. Maybe Ford goes on boat sailing alone, on the Stan o' War II, as a way of honoring Stan and their equally dead dream to sail the world together. That's why everything happened in the first place, didn't it? The kids when they go back home have to explain to their family, to their parents and grandpa Shermie, that "Grunkle Stan had a stroke and died" (this came out funnier than intended).

Maybe next summer happens. To spend time together and create happy memories. Because that's what Stan would want. They all go to visit Stan's grave, and Stan stares at them. Because he knows them, he knows he knows them, but he can't remember how or when.

Anyway, @babyblankyerror I think you'll like it. :)

[mag-notta]

so wait. since when you wipe memories with the gun and its stored in the cylinders, do you think eventually stanford would slide the vial into the computer, looking at all of the memories that shaped stanley?

at first, he would see warm beaches - kids' backs reddened with sunburn, soft laughter as two pairs of hands work on a dilapidated boat.

then he sees stanley sliding down a door, his knees drawn to his chest as he hears stanford will be leaving him in the dust, while he'll be picking away at barnacles. (and stanford thinks - had he really never protested at those words? had he really been too caught up in his own world to say anything?)

he sees stanley accidentally break the perpetual motion machine. he hears stanley's stammered explanation to ford, now a completely different context. bile rises in his throat as he sees stan, seventeen - so young, still so young, just a child - tossed onto the street. he has to stop watching when he sees stanley chew his way out of a trunk, his stomach emptying itself onto the floorboards.

This is the angstiest thing I’ve ever written, and WORST OF ALL, this could technically count as canon compliant, which means it just. Hurts a whole bunch.

This was written for the Memory Vial AU, which means I’m tagging a whole bunch of people for this, which also means that I, would like, to apologize.

@kagaintheskywithdiamonds @thefallenangel2008 @inkyrainstorms @willapines618 @pickledoesthetumbling @xirine13 @pinefamilycatsau

Without further ado, this is the Stan Swap, aka moments before the memory gun.

“What other choice do we have?”

The bars of their pyramid shaped cage are uncomfortably warm under Ford's fingers.

They should be cold, distantly, a mark in Ford's mind grumbles that cage bars should all be cold, but these ones, made of a demon's magic and unbreakable, are slightly warmer than his palms. He can feel it through the gloves, like touching a warmed mug, and it's just another thing that's wrong in this place.

He's going to have to give in.

To save the kids, if nothing else. Ford's not sure what Bill Cipher will do with him after he gets the equation, and starts the end of the world, but it won't be pleasant. It could be torture, he could be killed outright, but whatever the consequences, its better than letting the children, bright Dipper and shining Mabel, be crushed for his mistakes.

Ford is shaking, just slightly. Here in this cage, with his brother, he lets himself be a little afraid.

“He wants into your brain,” Stanley says quietly. “But, if we trapped him in someone else's, would the memory gun work?”

Ford turns.

Stanley has a look in his eyes, a contemplation, running numbers, like he's planning out just how heavy to lay into a con back at the Mystery Shack. He's thinking, but there's also a fierceness in his look.

Ford swallows. “There's nothing else Bill wants.” He draws in a slow breath, and lets it out in a sigh.

“It's my mind he needs, and I'm immune to the gun's effects.”

“But I'm not.”

Ford drags his eyes back up to his brother. The fire in his eyes hasn't pulled away, instead it's sharpened, and a grin, wry and quick, flashes on his face.

“What?”

“Ford.” Stan says, and his voice is hard and serious. “There's nothing he wants in your mind, and the gun won't work on you anyway, but it'll work on me.”

There is a moment, small and heavy, where Ford's mind stalls, lags behind. He squints at his brother, confused. Stan's face gives nothing away, but the grin gets bigger. It still doesn't reach his eyes.

“We're twins, Stanford.”

The revelation, the understanding, the shock, when it does come, jabs a shard of ice so deeply into Ford's chest that he lets out a little sharp sound.

“..No.”

“Yes,” Stan says, and he's already shedding his suit jacket. “C'mon, switch coats with me. Actually-all of it. We gotta make this count.”

“Stanley,” Ford gasps. “No. We're not- we can't just switch places.”

They had done this prank, this joke, as children all the time. It had worked on teachers, even their parents sometimes, but they were children.

The consequences back then weren't dire. They weren't joking around with the fate of the world, there weren't lives at stake.

Stan has successfully taken off the jacket, and he holds it out with a hand. With the other, he undoes the laces of his shoes. He's wobbly, standing only on one foot, but he's moving quickly.

Ford doesn't take the jacket. The horror of this is sinking in.

“Stan this-it would erase your mind. Your-your memories, everything that makes you a person.”

He would be a shell. A husk. Gutted and swept clean of any experiences, any feeling. A blank eyed old man, quiet and docile. Everything Stan isn't. The thought of it is terrible, it makes Ford sick.

“I mean yeah,” Stan says, far too casually for someone talking about the destruction of their own mind. “But it would stop Bill. We have to stop Bill.”

He raises up his suit jacket until it's in Ford's eye line. He shakes it, just a little.

Stan's eyes are determined, but also desperate.

“Ford. Let,” he swallows and starts again. “We have to do this. You have to let me do this.”

Ford hovers his hand over the jacket, but he can't force himself to grab it. To take it would be an agreement, a deal, this time not for knowledge, but for his brother's very soul. His hand shakes.

Stan doesn't look away. They don't have much time, Ford can see it in his eyes.

“Please.” Stan whispers, and Ford crumbles.

He takes the jacket.

Stan doesn't sigh in relief, he doesn't smile, he just moves. Quickly and methodically, he starts unbuttoning his shirt.

Ford follows suit, takes off his gloves and shoves them in the pockets of his coat, sheds that too. He dumps his clothes on the floor, the boots and his turtleneck.

Stan hands him his button up, and doesn't comment on Ford's scars at all. Ford doesn't comment on his.

As Ford puts it on, he realizes that the shirt is still warm.

The pants are close enough that they don't need to change, but the shoes take the longest for Ford to do up. The laces escape his fingers, over and over, the digits shaking too hard.

He gives up on them, terrified, as a great thunderous rumble echoes in the pyramid above them.

They're running out of time.

“Here.” Stan says, and Ford flinches.

Stan looks like him. The turtleneck and the coat, while predictably fitting him tightly, are still firmly in place. The boots, even. Each detail, except for the hands, matches up.

Stan hands Ford the fez cap.

Ford takes it, and licks over cracked lips to speak. “The fingers.” He says. “How are we going to-Bill would notice.”

“Aw, crap.” Stan pats his sides, likely looking for something that's now in the pockets on Ford's person, and pulls out the gloves.

Ford had sewn them himself, a million years ago. He'd butchered multiple pairs of gloves before he finally figured out how to best sew an allowance for the extra finger. He cut these in half, in between the four fingers on the original glove, and then cut out just the middle finger on another pair, and sewed it on the cut ones. It left a pair of gloves with an extra middle finger, which fit him perfectly.

He remembers being excited about it, waving his hands around and bending all his fingers, watching the fabric stretch and pull, but actually fit.

He'd felt a little bad, back then, destroying another perfectly usable pair of gloves just to make something for himself. Just to fix something that was his own problem.

As he watches Stan slide them on, and stick a pen inside to fill out the extra middle finger, Ford sees the irony in it. In the act of destroying something innocent to cover his own skin.

“That should do it.” Stan grins, and he wiggles his actual fingers in the glove. The middle one is unnaturally stiff, but if he holds his hands straight, and if Cipher doesn't look too carefully, maybe it'll work.

If If If. Maybe Maybe.

Ford slides the fez cap on, until it just barely touches his ears. It covers up his slightly darker hair, at the very least. Stan's hair is a little flatter than his, if you know what you're looking for.

The swap is complete, the puzzle pieces rearranged and shoved into incorrect spots, but at least they lay flat.

Ford can't find something to say.

There are a million things he should say, needs to say, but each time he opens his mouth, the words shrivel up and die in his throat.

He's afraid, and this time it's not for himself.

“Stanley,” he starts to say, forlorn and apologetic, but Stan cuts him off.

“Hold that thought,” he says, and he holds out the memory gun.

Ford freezes.

If he thought taking the jacket was difficult, this is impossible.

He stares at it, and cannot move his arms from his sides. This is a sort of death that is being handed to him. A murder weapon, a destroyer. The rock in Cain's hand. Ford cannot take it.

“It will erase you Stanley,” He says. “All-all of your memories. Your past. Everything. You won't know who you are, who the kids are.”

Who I am. Ford doesn't say. I don't think I could stand it, to see you not know me.

“It's alright,” Stan says. His voice is somehow comforting, despite all this. It's quiet, but strong, unwavering.

It's a hell of a good con.

“It'll be quick.” He says, and it makes Ford suck in a fast gasp.

He squeezes his eyes shut, to force the tears back.

He realizes he's going to have to pull the trigger. He'll need to do it fast, just after the deal is struck, before Stan-before Bill can recover. In a moment, he'll need to wipe his brother's mind of everything it is, everything it was.

Ford will have to do it.

“I can't.” He says. And his voice sounds like the beginning of a sob. His tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth and suddenly all he can taste is blood, and he doesn't want to reach for the gun at all, he doesn't want to be in his brother's clothes at all, he wants to be away, back in the shack, even back in that cold and dreary basement, at least then he won't have to do this.

“Please Stanley, don't,” there is a tightness in his throat, and it's guilt and it's regret and it's love, love for his brother and Ford can't even say it, can't possibly form it all into enough words so that Stanley will understand.

“Please don't make me do this.” Ford whispers. He sounds like a child.

There is a hand on his, and the handle of the memory gun slips between Ford's fingers. Another hand, warm even through the gloves, curls his fingers around it.

Stan holds the gun steady, until he's sure that Ford has it, that Ford's shaking hand won't drop their last chance. Then, he lets go.

“Sixer,” Stan says, and the name out of his mouth is warm and it makes the pressure in Ford's chest swell. It's nothing like how Bill says it, how he's ever said it.

This nickname is one of care, of childhood boats and dreams, of trust, unbroken and broken.

It's love. Ford can hear it.

Stan's eyes are watering. Still, they hold that same determination, that fire. That life.

Ford tries to hold it in his mind. Soon, soon he will look into blank eyes and that life, the memories of a life will be gone. He tries to hold it, hold on to the sight of it.

“I need to know that you'll do it.” Stan says, and it's the worst thing he's ever said.

It's worse than anything Ford has ever heard. It's worse than anything Ford ever will hear, because there is pleading in his brother's voice. He's pleading to die.

He's asking Ford to pull the trigger.

Ford is a weak man.

In this moment he realizes he's never been strong. He's always been a coward, and a fool, and a terrible brother and a worse man because in this moment, he is weak.

Ford nods. His fingers tighten on the handle of the memory gun, and he slides it carefully into the breast pocket of his brother's suit.

There's a tick of relief in Stan's shoulders.

He smiles, a tiny thing that still manages to look warm. His eyes are wet.

Ford reaches forward. It's been forty years, almost forty one, since Ford has hugged his brother. He cannot remember the last time he did so, and he hopes, god he hopes that Stanley does, that Stan remembers, even for these brief last moments, that at some point Ford cared enough to show how he feels.

Ford reaches forward, to grab, to pull, to hold on, even for the brief moment they have left, before Bill comes in and the show starts, the con falls into place, Ford reaches forward to do something.

Stanley steps away.

He takes a single half step backwards, until Ford's hand can only reach empty air.

“Save it,” he says gently, kindly. “Until after, okay? When, when I remember again.”

Ford is trying so hard to hold back tears that his teeth are chattering ever so slightly.

“Okay?” Stan repeats, and for the first time Ford sees fear in his brother's face, a sort of anxiety that guts him. “We'll, we'll be,”

“It'll be okay.” Ford says. His voice isn't strong, not like his brother's, but he jams that phrase home as hard as he can, like he can prop up his own crumbling resolve with one sentence alone.

“After.” He repeats.

“Until after.” Stan echoes.

Stan takes a big, gusty breath through his nose, and squares his shoulders back. Suddenly the wet eyes are gone, the kind, pleading face is smoothed over, and Stan looks ready.

Ford tries to follow suit. The memory gun weighs his chest down heavily, his jaw won't work properly, but still he tries. He has to be strong, just for this.

Just one more mile.

“Okay.” Stan says, and he slips into the voice of the mask, of a conman, of a man so sure of himself and of every move he's ever made, like he's confident.

“How good is your impression of me?”

.

.

.

[mag-notta]

What's this? Writing?? My writing after so long???

Yeah its been a bit! Im getting back into it after a couple weeks of not really working on my WIPs, so enjoy this Memory Vial AU warmup/drabble situation!

Warning. Angst.

Gravity Falls, in any season except the summer, is quiet.

Everyone goes about their lives, their jobs, to school or to work with little fanfare. 

The almost-but-not-quite  apocalypse shook the town, but only for a little while. People have moved on, gathered themselves from the wreckage and soldiered forward like they always do.

Stanford Pines cannot.

When he goes into town, which isn't often, he is silent. He walks like a beaten down, old lion. His eyes hang down to the street in front of him, his shoulders hunched just slightly, and his footsteps quiet. He drifts with the air of a forgotten predator, dangerous no longer, and yet the townspeople avoid him. 

They either glance away, shuffle out of his path and avoid, ignore, or worse, they offer soft smiles of comfort to him. 

Sometimes, on good days, Stanford Pines will lift his head and nod slightly back, even mutter a “thank you” or a “good afternoon” if he's feeling particularly wonderful. Most times he will simply drift away, grey and empty.

The townspeople remember different things about Weirdmageddon. Some remember nothing at all, captured early or twisted cruelly into such a different shape by shrieking, powerful hands that they're minds are incapable of remembering. Some know details, bits and pieces of fear and panic, of screaming and fire and the red wasteland the town became. Some remember more, actual, linear events that took place.

Those who've resided in the Mystery Shack remember most of all. Stanford Pines remembers.

He is armed when he goes into town. The sheriffs look at each other, debating, but they leave him be. There is a holster at his hip, the handle of a strange gun that peaks into view with each flare of his trenchcoat. But there is another weapon, a second gun, that Stanford Pines keeps in the pocket of his coat. 

It is a murder weapon, not that everyone knows that.

The glass bulb of the memory gun is shattered. The gun will never work again, not for its intended purpose. Stanford Pines made sure of that. The temptation, the urge to point the gun again at a face like his is too much. So he destroyed it.

Once, in the beginning, the shattered edges of the bulb were sharp enough to cut into his six fingers.

Stanford Pines would grip the broken edges, slice his own skin open until his blood stained the inside of his cost pockets, his sleeves, until the pain was harder to bear than the memory. Than the memories. 

Now, these glass edges are smoothed down. They've dug into Ford's skin so many times that the sharpness was dulled by his bone, struck utterly useless to inflict pain.

Walking through town, sometimes Stanford Pines curls his hand around the gun's handle. Concealed in his coat pocket, no one can see the man grip a defective, useless gun.

Stanford Pines does not drive. He walks into town, alongside the road but refusing any ride. Sometimes, he walks to town but no further, lingering on the last corner of mainstream before turning around, hiking back to the tucked away cabin in the woods. He likes the walk, it's just something to do. That's what he'd tell people, if they ever asked.

Technically, Stanford Pines owns a car. A red-burgundy old one, with a white top in pristine condition. It sits in the driveway, untouched. The keys however, are nowhere to be found. Once, a traveling salesman knocked on the door and asked to purchase the car, and the people of Gravity Falls never saw him again.

Stanford Pines does not take visitors. The Mystery Shack continued to run, for a little while after the apocalypse. It sold everything off the shelves, everything out of the back, everything from any tucked away storage. Christmas decorations sold in September, Summer accessories in the winter. Then, on a cold morning in spring, the Mystery Shack closed.

Soos tipped his hat, threw his toolbox in the bed of his truck, and drove away, packing himself and his grandmother to go live with his new fiancé, in Portland. Wendy too, had left. Her college studies ramped up, and unlike before, when she had an unofficial science and math tutor for a boss, she needed to focus. 

In utter secret, both of their future endeavors had been paid for. A good, solid college fund and a down payment on a house had mysteriously appeared under their names.

Stanford Pines wishes them well. 

The house is old, and it is quiet.

For thirty years, Stanford Pines had longed for this silence. He remembered it, during his time in the portal. He wished for it, during nights sleeping in a sleeping roll on a distant moon or huddled on a crowded street. He wanted that silence of a house tucked away, with no one else.

He hates it now.

There is nothing to distract him from what he remembers, what he wants now. Stanford Pines wonders, distantly, if he is really allowed to grieve at all.

Is it allowed for the waves to mourn a sunken ship? Is it allowed for the fire to grieve the wood it burned, is it allowed for the gun to want back the bullet?

Is a murderer allowed to cry for his victim? 

The house is quiet. The memory gun in his hand no longer bites into his skin. It just sits there, like a heavy weight.

Everyone goes about their lives, content.

Stanford Pines does not.

[mag-notta]

A big part of Ford's characterization that is very important to me is that, no matter what and no matter what time period we're talking about, if Stan was ever in any serious danger and Ford found out about it, he would do anything to help. Yes, even at his angriest and even when he was saying and thinking the meanest stuff about his brother. Because in all the instances of Stan being in danger and Ford knowing about it that we see (like the dream from j3 and the comic about comic books), helping his brother is not even something that Ford contemplates or thinks about at all. Add to that the way his first reason not to ask Stan for help with the journal (as stated in tbob) is worry that it would put Stan in danger (even if it was expressed in what was probably the meanest and most condescending way possible). And of course also Stan being one of the three people Ford would sacrifice the entire universe for.

Imo for him the question is "why is my brother such an immature dumbass who gets himself into trouble all the time" but never "why do I have to help him out ". And it doesn't matter if the answer to the second one is eventually something along the lines of "because he's my brother and I love him", because I think it's out of character to even ask it, as to him the answer is that obvious. If Stan's in danger then he will save him, because of course he will (and because he doesn't have to even think to know that he'd always rather have the most annoying brother in the world who he's not even on speaking terms with than not have a brother at all)

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the wonderful design of stan and ford's ena by @urdadsceilingfan !! i had to draw them, they're just soo perfectly combined. i originally only planned to do one side, but it got a little out of hand

[mag-notta]

Yes it was an introduction to my human Bill au :D

Previous part

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Free Spirits

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I'm so busy and im at the bus stop so this post will not be edited or probably continued but im putting this idea out because @black-wolf-spirit drew some vampire Stan art and it made the worms dance

Vampire AU where Stan is a vampire who is just. Sick of it. He's sick of constantly being on the brink of starvation because he doesn't want to eat people, he's sick of only driving at night and sleeping in his car (with the windows boarded up because he can't stand the sun) he's sick of the dozens of different vampire "clans" that all have beef with each other and are fuckers to him, he's sick of gagging at even the smell of garlic, and hes ESPECIALLY sick of being a vampire.

When he hears through the grapevine that vampires are taking a stronghold in north, north America, somewhere in Oregon, but vampire hunters are giving everyone trouble, Stan packs his weird locked down car up, and drives up there, fully expecting to get staked and put an end to this miserable ass existence.

He gets up there, and plenty of vampires have surrounded this one house in particular, which is just FULL of super delicious townspeople who've all fled to some Head Vampire Hunters house. Apparently this guy is well versed in killing, because even though The Hoard outside has numbers, nobody really wants to continue to try to bash down the the guy with the Silver Crossbows door.

So Stan, new in town and probably only a little suicidal, flashes his fangs at the crowd, dusts off his shoulders, and resolves to at least get vampire hunter'ed in a cool, funny and flashy way.

He strolls right up to the front door, knocks politely, and says "Hello there! Could you spare a moment of your mortal life to discuss our lord and savior, Dracula?"

From inside the creepy disheveled house is a loud snort, and then a long beat of silence, and then, terribly, a very familiar voice that shouts incredulously, "Stanley???"

And Ah Fuck. Thats Ford.

[mag-notta]

Where the Real Road Lies - the AtLP Sequel!

Summary:

"Stanley," he started quietly, and he studied the stains that lined the inside of the mug like tree rings. "I suppose I simply want to understand. Who you are." Ford looked up, studied the tightness of Stanley's shoulders, and sighed. "I suppose… I feel that I do know you. Do I really need a reason to get coffee and sit with my friend in the scrappy little diner of a backwater town and watch the sunset?"

At a solid 16.5k, this was a monster of a oneshot. I'm so happy with how it turned out <3

@aroace-get-out-of-my-face @empressofsamoyeds @pleasantartisanhottea @littlelilliana15 @pinefamilycatsau @babyblankyerror @sunnylolli and everyone else <3

[mag-notta]

bring back tumblr ask culture let me. bother you with questions and statements

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ENA Trend except I’m super late and I don’t care

I saw @leo-artista made one and that inspired me to do so as well ( sorry for the tag, you’re awesome)

Some extras

[mag-notta]

Was thinking about Stan's habit of grabbing his chest when he's scared and then thought about what if he did end up having a heart attack or something after Ford came back. Like, he's been stressed for ages and now he's gotta worry about Ford potentially getting the kids into something dangerous like he did and where he's gonna go after the kids leave and what he's gonna do without the Shack.

Maybe it hits him in the middle of tour or something. Like, he's been feeling off all day and looks kinda ragged so maybe Soos is keeping close and sees him go down. At first, people think it's part of the tour or some typical Stan gag. And then he doesn't laugh or try to play it up for money. So the twins run down to the basement to get Ford.

He's kinda annoyed that his planning time's been interrupted by Stanley's antics, but the twins seem genuinely upset so he goes to check it out. And finds out Soos and Wendy called an ambulance and there really IS a problem. Then he kinda disconnects from the situation. Like, he's panicking internally but this isn't the first major medical situation he's been in. So he calmly gets the kids (Soos and Wendy included) into Stan's car and follows the ambulance to the hospital. He's the one wrangling the kids while they freak out and asking all the questions to the doctors and nurses about Stan's condition. He can't take time to worry about his brother because he's got a bunch of kids to reassure and they're all looking to him because he's the eldest person there. He's an old man with all the answers in the universe. If anyone can tell them Stan's gonna be okay, it's gonna be Mr. 12 PhDs.

Except... he doesn't.

He doesn't know anything about his brother's medical history past the age of seventeen. Dipper's the one to mention Stan's medication and Mabel knows his diet and Soos and Wendy know about his boxing hobby and work schedule. Ford has a hazy memory about Stan chewing his way out of a trunk once.

He starts thinking about how Stan's the only family he has left. Sure, the twins are there, but they don't really know each other. Shermie and his son are just over the state line in California, but they don't know who he is anymore. Stanley's been wearing his face for years and they never seemed to notice. His parents are dead. Fiddleford is 30 years in the wind.

Stanley's the only one who truly knows him. Knows about his deepest insecurities and childhood dreams. Who knows his favorite books and comic book heroes. About his first disastrous date and the kissing bot. About how badly things had gone for him and been at his doorstep only a couple of days after receiving a single postcard after 10 years of silence.

And Ford knows nothing of the man Stanley became. Stanley doesn't know how Ford has changed. How he's trying SO HARD to fix his mistakes.

And suddenly being so angry over some paltry little machine doesn't seem so important. Ford's the one who built a doomsday device.

He's still angry with Stanley taking his identity, but what does it matter if no one noticed? Sure, Stan got him a criminal record, but he made one of his own in the multiverse. Their family has always leaned to the gray side of the law.

And now they may never get the chance to know each other again. 40 years without each other and the pain of potentially losing Stanley cuts Stanford so deep he feels like he's the one dying.

So he sits in that cold hospital waiting room, four hysterical kids surrounding him, and wears a straight face while his world falls apart around him.

If you lose your parents, they call you an orphan.

If you lose your twin, they don't stop calling you a brother.