#So easily When Stan had to PRETEND to be FORD to get even a chance to be a part of their family again

[what-am-i-doing-in-this-fandom]

STOP I'm thinking about the part in Gravity Falls where Stan shows up with freshly bought (stolen) light bulbs only to see Ford screwing a new one in surrounded by family.

And OH my GOD. AGH.

Stan gets a little (ir)rationally upset about this because... It's.. Guys,,,

Stan perceives it as Ford once again easily receiving the praise and love of their family when he had to fight tooth and nail to receive even half of it.... I'm not well ✋����

[dimonds456]

Transfem Stan Thoughtdump

Okay so @/abyssalzones made a pretty good post that sums up a lot of my thoughts as well, but I have a few extra ones I'd like to add to this discussion, as well as elaborating on one of the post's points. I've been thinking about transfem Stan for a couple of weeks now and at this point I'm like "fuck it we ball" and throwing it out there. 

For one, it warms my heart whenever there's an older character who was raised in the mid-1900s/older times who realizes they're queer, or comes to terms with their identity in old age. You're never too old to realize you're part of the community, and never too late. Adding this on top of the many, MANY identities that Stan has had to take to survive in her life, it'd be like really turning over a new leaf for her. She'd get to really step into an identity that she aligns with completely, and not something else given to her or that she took to protect herself. 

Not to mention, everything regarding Ford. The fact that she had to pretend to be Ford for so long, she more than likely never had the chance to even think about taking on any other identities. She had to keep this one as intact as she could. Otherwise, she could risk loosing the Shack, and with it, the portal- her brother. No way that was happening. 

It was briefly touched in the post, but when Stan was watching that one movie and she was like "JUST LIKE ME FR", obviously the writers intended that to just be a joke since this was as far and away from Stan's identity as they could get. But we're gonna ignore that and take it at face value for a second. 

The channel introduces itself (jokingly) as the boring old lady black-and-white channel, clearly something that a manly-man like Stan wouldn't be into, and he reacts like how you'd expect. But once it gets going, he gets fully sucked into it, leading eventually to the scene where the main character, seemingly about to complete a Character Arc™, tells her mother "I'm not just a dutchess, I'm also a woman!" and Stan cheers for her, saying the "just like me fr" line. 

Without any transfem headcanons, again, this is a joke. Or you could interpret this in hindsight as Stan feeling a similar way about his father, since lines like "I'm a woman!" declared like that usually means "I'm free to make my own choices," which is a message resident make-my-father-proud-issues Stanley Pines would relate to pretty hard. Even though this isn't a conclusion Stan comes to in the show, we could easily see him coming to a conclusion like that in the future.

Now let's add the transfem headcanon back in. With that new layer to it, Stan (whose egg hasn't cracked yet) would be confused as to why she relates so hard. After all, she's a man who was raised to shove feelings down and be a manly-man man by Filbrick. She's more than likely gone her entire life trying to conform to that idea of toxic masculinity that her dad pushed on both her and Ford. Stan was always the one who resorted to punching, after all. That's a manly-man trait, so surely this goes no further right

There's a part of Gravity Falls that I feel doesn't get discussed enough, and that's the underlying misogyny of it. There's not a ton of it, but there are quite a few jokes about how men are stronger than women and the like. Stan has quite a few lines like that herself. So she would be subscribing to a similar mental state, the idea that if you like punching, CLEARLY you're a guy. Cuz that's how it works. Obviously. 

Introducing Mabel Pines, someone who is VERY much a girly-girl. She likes pink and unicorns and rainbows and makeup and sleepovers, stuff of the like. Now I could make a whole other post about my headcanons for Mabel and her queer journey, but one thing she can definitely do that "girly-girls" DON'T? Punching.

Mabel can punch. And she punches a lot. 

It's a small thing, and something I think Stan has just kinda accepted without question over the course of the series, but if she were to stop and think about it, she'd be like ".....wait a minute." and it could very well be the first piece that cracks the idea of manly-man masculinity vs just. existing as a person and what that actually means. 

Once Stan finally starts to break away from toxic masculinity and all those lessons she got thrown into her head, then her egg would finally be able to start cracking. 

As for why it even matters, first off, it just makes for an interesting interpretation of the character I haven't really seen before until VERY recently. Like, within the past 2 days recently (and maybe once like a month ago?? idk). 

But secondly, for her character, it would be a good, healthy step into really taking back her identity. Who IS Stan Pines? She's spent so long being other people, either as a form of self-defense or pretending to be her brother so she can help save him from the sideburn hell dimension, that I don't think she's really allowed herself to connect to who Stan is. 

This is true regardless of gender headcanon, but I think the transfem angle makes it so much more interesting. Who is Stan? Not even she knows. And she's starting to feel VERY confused about the whole thing. 

As for Ford, I think he'd be more than willing to support an identity journey for Stan. After all, he's traveled across dimensions and more than likely had all his teachings questioned as well. I am willing to bet money he's encountered trans people before. And, knowing Ford, he'd be open and curious to the idea, not close-minded, no matter what their father tried to teach his kids. Honestly, I could see Ford pestering Stan with questions long into the night regarding the whole thing, and taking up the whole identity mystery for himself as something the two of them can "crack" (heh) together. Just another adventure for the crew of the Stan'o'War II! 

There's SO much more but I don't wanna re-say things that the og post already said, these are just the big ones that stick out to me and what I wanted to elaborate on. 

TL;DR Stan goes on a journey of realizing that toxic masculinity Is Bad Actually and honestly so was his father, and once he accepts that and starts actively challenging his own beliefs about gender, her egg cracks and she realizes that maybe she isn't a guy at all. The rest of the Pines- but Ford especially- are supportive, and although Stan has a LOT of self-reflection to do and I could see her getting frustrated, flustered, or even embarrassed of her newfound realization, ultimately it makes her happier like this. Cuz it's her identity. She's not pretending to be anyone else anymore and she can just wholly be herself.

Thank you and goodnight

[tinkrtailrsldrspy]

How Does This Even Happen?! - Part 10

So, I already had this written up and decided I'd post it before the anxiety about my dog's slipped disc and surgery renders me incapable of doing anything but laying on the floor and crying.

Edit: He made it out of surgery, he doesn't have nerve damage, and everything is looking good. I'll be able to visit him this week and hopefully take him home next.

The next update will probably not be for at least a week for two. There is a lot of shit I gotta get done in the real world to prep for him coming home, then I've gotta take care of him until he's better, and adding the move on top of that...

I'm not panicking. Not yet, anyways.

It was a month after he’d slipped so easily into Stan’s dreams that Bill snapped his fingers and two fully-packed bags appeared on the bed beside Ford. He raised a brow as he looked to his beloved, the loss of their little girl still hanging heavily over him.

“We’re going dimension-hopping,” Bill claimed as he yanked the silk sheets from his human’s body. “You’re going to get cleaned up, I’m going to make you immortal, and we’re going to explore the multiverse like I promised.”

“Wha- Bill, you can’t honestly expect-” Ford attempted to reason with the deity.

“I can and I do,” Bill stated, tone offering no chance for argument. “We can’t stay here, not with reminders of her everywhere. So, we’re going out.”

Ford rolled his eyes as Bill ushered him from the bed and towards the luxurious bathroom in the suite. “Fine,” Ford muttered. “But we’re talking about the whole ‘immortal’ thing.”

“Haha!” Bill pretended to wipe a tear from his eye before staring at the scientist far too seriously for Ford’s comfort. “You’re not getting a choice in the matter, Sixer. There are a lot of dangerous things out in the multiverse, and I’m not going to let you put yourself at risk. I-” the triangle hesitated a moment before he floated down to clutch at Ford’s hand. “I can’t lose you, too.”

The earnest anguish in his voice broke Ford’s heart anew. Without hesitating, he pulled Bill into a lingering kiss, hands clutching tightly to bricked sides. Bill didn’t hesitate, reciprocating with a desperate need to reassure himself that his scientist was truly still there, still whole, still alive. They separated with a shared dazed sigh. Bill moved forward, pressing his front plane firmly against Ford’s chest, the two wrapping arm around each other.

“…I’ll give you access to some of my lower powers,” Bill muttered reluctantly. “And I’ll just… pause time for you… You can still visibly age, if you want, and you can choose if you want to be mortal again someday, but… I need to know you won’t leave me alone, Starshine.”

“Thank you,” Ford murmured, laying a soft peck to Bill’s top angle.

“It… it’ll also, ya know… help stabilize you,” Bill added, his numerous arms tightening the coils they’d wound around Ford’s entirety. “If-… if you wanna, maybe… try again… Someday.”

The human felt the sting of tears in his nose, sniffling as the most delicate of smiles lifted his lips. He didn’t say anything, but knew his Muse could feel the gratitude that flooded his mind. There were times when sharing a mental connection came in handy - like when uttering a single syllable threatened to break the dam he’d built.

[fakeusernamelol]

HI LONG ASKS ANON HERE

I feel like Shermie and Mariana would never let Ford be alone with their Pa while their Pa is still very confused and has trouble with remembering people's names and gets migraines and random ptsd flashbacks he doesn't understand - which means no boat for the first year, Stan goes between staying at the shack with Soos, staying with Mariana or staying with Shermie and his family, Ford is just kinda trailing behind Stan like a kicked puppy, either staying in a different room than Stan or in a hotel nearby (I like to think once Shermie has decided someone isn't his family anymore, he doesn't forgive and he doesn't give second chances, kinda like Filbrick). If Stan does start remembering who Ford was and what Ford did he would first keep pretending just because. Well. Ford's nice to him now. He's not above lying, and he really, really wants to be loved by Ford without having to break his back for it. At first it's just for that, because he likes Ford walking at his side and linking their pinkies together and gently reminding him of names and old childhood stories without any frustration in his voice even though it's the 17th time he's told him, he likes seeing Ford trying and he thinks maybe Ford won't care as much once he knows Stanley doesn't need fixing anymore - that he might go back to treating him the way he used to now that Stanley was back to being himself, that maybe it was the way Stan is when he's wholly himself that drove Ford to be violent in the first place.

But then, like any good conman, he started bargaining. It's not like he doesn't want to forgive Ford, he wants to so badly but he can't forgive someone that doesn't change. Maybe if he saw Ford being nothing but the boy he fell in love with for a year then he would believe it really is him, that he really has grown, and then he can start "remembering" more, then he can start moving past it and once he's decided he's moving past it surely his brain will get the message and stop making him petrified of only wearing a tanktop and boxers around him or being alone in the same room as him or eating too much in front of him or talking too loudly with him or drinking when he's home or when Ford gets too close to their son and daughter or when Shermie starts raising his voice at Ford or--

This doesn't work the way Stan wants it too but Stan has been dealing with his mental health through brute force alone since he was 4 years old and he's not gonna stop trying until it works (it will not Stan tried initiating sex but heard Ford undoing his belt and threw up they're not okay even a little bit)

HI BUDDY HELLO!!!!! so happy to see you again dear long-asks anon, your amazing ideas help me a lot to continue with this silly au 😚💖💓💓💖💓 I GOT THINGS TO SAY ABOUT THIS ONE BECAUSE YOU'RE GIVING ME TOO MUCH IDEAS IM SHACKING AND GIGGLING OVER THE FLOOR 🥴🥴🥴

Mariana, Shermie and Soos would surely take the position of caregivers for Stanley because they're the only ones who know the story between him and ford (Mariana and shermie because they lived most of it lol, and Soos because he heard them talking about how angry they were with ford and he ended up making them telling the full story to him with the promise of keeping it as far as possible to the knowledge of the twins) all of them have the same mission, help stan remembering things, going through that little break downs his memory could have and most important, have ford far from him.

Shermie and Mariana had it way easily, found kinda sweet that when dipper and mabel leave they take stan with them to California to stay with shermie and his wife for them to take care of him, that would make stanley very happy. His memory was still very floppy and can't remember most things yet but he remembered spending time with those kids and he was happy to have them by his side. In shermie's house he could feel that calmly senior life far away from attractions and anomalies. He would watch soap operas along with shermie's wife and hear his son telling him some stories while taking a cup of coffee, when it was about the younghood of his kids they were cautious with what they said, they wanted their Pa to remember but only the good times so they avoided any mention of Ford or things that could make those uncomfortable flashbacks came back to Stan. Despite that, Stan felt calm there, it helped him remember the names of relatives he didn't see as often, like Shermie's son, and on weekends the twins used to come to visit him and his grandpa so he was pretty happy with that too, even though, he can swear he sometimes see that man with red sweater in the windows or in the distance on the street..

With Mariana, He remembered that creative part of his life. Having fun making figures with animal parts or drawings little things remembering things like his old lil «stanley» comics he did in his childhood or the attractions he did for the shack. Mariana would help him remember that good parts of his life but taking care of certain things that could lead to remembering ford (for example, toffee peanuts although she knew stanley loved them, they were prohibited because she didn't want to wake up any bad remembering linked to them because they knew ford hated them for some reason)

With Soos it was the only time he was near Ford because they both still live in the shack but he had a restraining order with Stan (Significantly, legally no but if soos saw him very close he wouldn't hesitate to tackle him lol) they couldn't never be in the same room alone, Ford didn't have the right to talk with stan and in nights stans room will be closed with a padlock and only stan and soos had the key to open it. HOWEVER laws and rules where something the pines bros didn't respect lol, living in the same house although not interacting was leading stan to curiosity, he still wasn't sure who this man was, why was he doing here but nobody seemed to want to ask that question so he would have to find that by himself.

When soos not around he would see that man walking through the shack, going to the kitchen or to some secret room he wasn't allowed to see. In nights he would hear strange sounds coming from what seemed to be below the Shack, and sometimes he would open the lock and leave his room whenever to go to the bathroom or kitchen but he could see that man lurking around the shack late at night. Finally Looking into his eyes and feeling a strange but familiar silence. He didn't know who this man was but he wasn't feeling scared of him. His face looked tired and petrified in a dispirited expression, he didn't talk nor get close to him, they only looked at eachother before one of them left leaving that scene full of questions.

One time when the headaches were preventing Stan from sleeping so he decided to leave his room and go into the living room to watch television, hoping to kill some time while the pain relieved and let him to fell asleep. While watching he noticed something was gently touching his pinkie, looking to his side and seeing that man sitting next to him with his hand close to his while watching the tv with him, For some reason that didn't make him feel uncomfortable or scared, he Just, let the man slowly take his hand while watching the crap late night movies that were on tv. The man's hand was rough but warmed, it matched perfectly with his even with that extra finger he noticed. Slowly nights were becoming the only time he got to discover who that man was. Holding hands, staring at each other without saying anything, and when one of them finally decided to talk, the man's tone voice was soft even with that deep voice he had. He tell him about stories he haven't remember, names he hadn't heard, he make him feel things he hasn't feel before. The flashbacks and headaches were getting worse but Stan was remembering more details of them, remembering sounds, places, touches,names. And then he remembered who Stanford Pines was.

But..he wasn't acting like he remembered, he was being sweet, he was telling him stories in a soft tone and only touching his hands waiting for his permission to do it, he was acting different but why was now feeling fear ? Why he was now feeling intimidated while seeing at those eyes that made his chest ache, why did that soft touch made him wait for a twist, he was being just like he always wanted, his heart was feeling the same he felt when they were just 12-year-old kids, but he was scared. He didn't want to get through that again, didn't want to suffer again, he loved that man he see in the nights, but he was scared that man was Stanford pines.

I really love the idea of ptsd stanley, my poor baby, he really wants to try it again with ford, trust him and try to have for the first time a good intimacy life with him, he want it so bad but he simply can't, he can't help but feeling something bad is going to happen even if ford has showed him that he has changed, after so much years, he deeply can't be sure of that, he doesn't want to suffer again 😢😢

[koraesdoodles]

@forduary Week 4: Hug it out

The first time Ford found Stan curled up on his bed with the blanket pulled over his head they’d been six years old. Stan had gotten into the new books Ford had received for Christmas and accidentally spilled paint all over them. Ford was furious, and didn’t talk to Stan for three days. Then he’d walked into their room and found Stan in a ball sobbing his little eyes out. 

Ford sat on the bed hesitantly, looking at the floor while his brother pretended that he didn’t know Ford was there. Eventually, Stan peeked over the blanket and Ford began to talk. 

“I’m still mad.” 

“-- I didn’t -- !” 

“I’m still mad.” He reached out hesitantly then abandoned caution and threw his arms around his brother. “I really liked those books.” To his horror, tears started to roll down Ford’s cheeks. Hiccup’s caught his breath and it felt like he couldn’t breathe. “I can be mad!” Stan held him while he cried. 

Ford forgave him a day later. 

When they were ten, Stan came home sunburnt and angry. Ford had spent the day working on a new project, and didn’t realize why Stan was giving him the cold shoulder until he glanced at the clock. 

“Oh my gosh, Stan I’m so sorry! I didn’t realize it was so late I --” 

“Whatever, Poindexter.” 

“No, I mean it! Did you go to the fair? Did you see any clowns?”

“Leave me alone.” 

“Stan --” 

“Just do your stupid science and leave me alone, Stanford!” Stan shoved his brother out of the way and slammed the door to their room, leaving Ford in the hallway, feeling like a jerk. 

He apologized again that night. Stan said he forgave him. But it wasn’t until a week later that he actually started acting normal again. 

Ford held grudges. When someone wronged him, they were on his black list for life. Crampelter grew up and lived a good life, but Ford never forgave him for his childish bullying. Carla McCorkle would never earn his forgiveness after taking his brother on a date that resulted in Stan getting a black eye and being grounded from the Stan o’ War for three weeks (he never did get Stan to tell him exactly what had happened, but Stan got in trouble enough without some girl making things even more difficult). When someone did him wrong, Ford wasn’t one to immediately jump to forgiveness. 

But he always forgave Stan. When Stan lied to him about taking their Pa’s gold chain, Ford forgave him. When Stan stole Ford’s math homework in sixth grade and copied it, Ford forgave him and even let him copy his other assignments (Pa wouldn’t get as mad at Stan if he got better grades, so he figured it was good for both of them). Ford even forgave Stan’s lackluster excitement when Ford was offered the chance to go to his dream school. 

And he would have forgiven Stan after the science fair. He would have, if Stan hadn’t left (been kicked out, but he didn’t have to leave forever. He could have stayed around, explained himself, something, instead of just leaving Ford behind with nothing). 

But Ford deserved to be mad! Stan had wrecked things too many times. He was allowed to be mad about this. That didn’t mean he was going to freeze his brother out forever, he just . . . needed some time. 

Stan didn’t hold grudges. He forgave easily and fast. But he let the pain linger. He held onto it like it was proof that whatever bad things happened to him were proof of an unfair universe that was out to get him. It wasn’t his fault that his dad was unfairly hard on him, or that he wasn’t as smart as his brother, or that the machine broke after a single punch to the table. It wasn’t his fault that he needed to steal to eat and that the supplies he was able to aquire built crummy vacuumes and worse bandages. 

He just needed a chance, but nobody was willing to give him one. 

It was a perfect storm. And things didn’t get better when they reunited ten years later, and there was no quick forgiveness when Ford stepped out of the portal thirty years after that. Too much had happened, and maybe Ford needed more time or maybe he’d just gotten so used to being upset that he didn’t spare any thought into fixing things. And Stan was willing, waiting to forgive his brother, but couldn’t stand that things had gone wrong for him again. It wasn’t until later that they realized something had to change. And by then, it was almost too late. 

Ford walked into his brother’s room three days after they’d defeated Bill. It was the first thing he did every morning, since Stan tended to sleep in and Ford tried to avoid sleeping altogether. Ford liked having breakfast with the whole family, and he couldn’t do that if his brother insisted on staying in bed all day. 

Ford also didn’t like being away from his twin for long periods of time. He’d spent thirty years holding a grudge against his brother, but he never imagined Stan actually being gone. Stan was always safe, which Ford most definitely wasn’t. He’d gone through the stages multiple times over the decades, forgiving Stan and then being angry at him all over again. But when his brother stared at him with those blank eyes, having no recollection of who he was or what had happened, Ford felt a fear that he’d never before experienced. He’d wanted to grab Stan and shake him, force him to come back to him. He could deal with being apart from his brother, he could deal with being angry at his brother, but he could not deal his brother being gone. He could not handle a brother that didn’t know him, who had sacrificed everything in order to save Ford despite everything. 

It felt like if he let Stan out of his sight for too long, then his brother would revert back to that state. He knew it was illogical, but it didn’t matter. He woke his brother up every morning anyway. 

Stan was curled up in a ball under the blankets. Ford went to shake his shoulder but found that Stan was already shaking. 

“Stanley?” Ford’s voice made Stan jolt.

“Morning already?” Stan’s voice was more gruff than usual, though he was clearly trying to sound normal. 

“Are you alright?” 

“Why wouldn’t I be? Now go away, I don’t have on any pants.” 

“You never wear pants, Stanley.” 

“. . . Right.” A cough. “Well I’ll be up in a minute. Go get breakfast Poindexter.” 

Ford grabbed the blanket and pulled it off Stan’s head. Stanley desperatly tried to hold onto it, but Ford moved quickly. 

Stan’s eyes were red rimmed, and tears had left tracks down his cheeks. Ice slid into Ford’s belly and he immediately reached for Stanley, but pulled back when his brother flinched. 

“It’s nothing. I’ll be out in a minute.” 

“Stanley, what’s wrong?” 

“Nothing!”

Ford’s impatience cracked a little at the blatant lie. “I can see that.” 

Stan flushed and looked away. Ford didn’t say anything. Partially because he didn’t know what to say. How was he suppsoed to make Stan tell him what was wrong? Even before everything, when they were kids, getting Stanley to talk was like pulling teeth. Maybe he could plug in Project Mentem and -- 

“Um,” Stan coughed. “Did I ever, um. Did I ever say sorry?” 

Ford stared at him. “Beg pardon?” 

Stan looked away. “For the project. And um. The portal. And making you a criminal in this dimension when you didn’t even get the fun of doing anything.” 

“I --” 

“I just uh. I remembered some stuff. About you and grudges. Did you really not talk to me for three days because I spilled paint on some books?” 

“. . . They were really important books, Stanley.” 

“It was a stack of Dr. Suess!”

“Ma got them for me.” 

“Yeah, but that was more my reading level than yours . . .” 

“That’s not the point --” 

“I’m sorry.” Stan swallowed. “I’m uh, sorry about the books.” 

Ford sighed and sat down on the bed. “I forgave you.” 

“. . . I know.” 

“No, you don’t.” Ford didn’t mean to sound snapish so did his best to moderate his tone. “I can admit that I may have the tendency to hold grudges.” He ignored Stan’s huff. “But when I forgive someone, that means I forgive them, Stanley. I’m not thinking about it anymore, I’m not focused on it, it’s done.” He turned toward Stan and stared him in the eye. “Sometimes I need time, sure but . . . I’ll always forgive you, Stanley.” 

Stan swallowed and tried to look away, but Ford didn’t let him. Not this time. He grabbed his brother’s shoulder and shook him, forcing Stanley to once more meet his eye. “I will always forgive you, Stan.” 

Stan took a deep breath, and then threw his arms around his brother. Ford returned the embrace. He held on like he should have held on forty years ago when Stanley had been kicked out of the house. He held on like he should have the first time he saw Stan after ten years. He held on like he wished he’d held on when he first stepped through the portal. 

“I just don’t want to mess things up for you anymore,” Stan’s gruff voice was barely more than a croak. “I keep messing up, and I don’t mean to, but it’s my fault, and I’m sorry.” 

Ford tightened his hold on Stan’s shoulders and buried his face in Stan’s neck. “It happens,” he mumbled. “It’s okay.” 

“I missed you so much, Sixer.” The sobs are clear in Stan’s voice now. Ford doesn’t think he can hold his brother any tighter than he already is.

“I love you, Stanley. And I’m sorry too.” Ford was not crying. Because of the two of them, Stanley was the one who cried most often, no matter how much he tried to deny it, and Ford had already cried once in the past week and he wasn’t going to do it again. 

“It’s okay, Stanford.” Stan was smiling now, Ford could hear it in his voice. “I’ll always forgive you too.” 

(This art was used as a reference)

[nyroom]

The Ghosts of Childhood - Chapter 1

After a fight with his brother, Stan heads out and is consequentially de-aged back into a child. Now Ford is going to have to confront the emotional baggage he's been avoiding, all while trying to manage three children and a business. What could go wrong?

This fic is based on the One And A Half Stans AU from disappearedsock and thesnadger over on Tumblr. I stumbled across it and the idea was too cute to leave alone.

This is my first Gravity Falls fic so, if characters are ooc, that's why.

[AO3 Link] [Part 2]

The days since the Author had come out of the portal were almost suffocatingly tense. Don’t get him wrong - Dipper was positively thrilled to be meeting the object of his obsession fascination - but after the initial high wore off, the tension was starting to bother even him.

It was clear that Grunkle Stan and Great Uncle Ford still had some animosity towards each other, soured even more over the 30-year absence. They didn’t appear to be in any rush to start making amends either. It was as if they were pretending the other didn’t exist, that if they ignored the problem strongly enough, it would eventually go away. Luckily, they mostly avoided each other, so the tension was at least bearable. It was a different story when they were both in the same room together, which was usually around dinner time.

A selfish part of Dipper resented Grunkle Stan, just a little. The Author LITERALLY lived in their basement, yet Dipper couldn’t even talk to him! He still had so many questions to ask him, but Grunkle Stan was firm in Dipper steering clear of him. “My brother’s a dangerous know-it-all, and the stuff he’s messing with is even worse.” He had said, brown eyes dark. “Do yourself a favour and stay away from him.”

Mabel didn’t seem to be handling the tension very well, though she was doing her best to be her usual peppy self. It just didn’t compute to her that siblings could hate each other so much. Why couldn’t they hug and just say sorry? Why wasn’t that good enough? Dipper had caught her shooting him sad looks when she thought he wasn’t looking, as if she were afraid they’d end up that way too. Dipper did his best to assure her otherwise.

Tonight had been a particularly bad one. Dipper and Mabel had huddled in their shared room, listening to the faint sounds of shouting coming from somewhere downstairs. It looked like the elder twins had finally stopped tip-toeing around each other. Dipper couldn’t make out exactly what was being said, but the venom in each of their voices was practically palpable.

Thankfully, as if a trade-off for its intensity, the fight had been over as quickly as it started, ending with a slammed door and the sound of tires screeching in the dirt. Most likely Grunkle Stan; Great Uncle Ford didn’t seem much for driving. Dipper had just winced and put the incident out of his mind. There wasn’t much he could do for them, and Mabel hadn’t exactly taken the fight well. He had more important things to worry about right now.

Now five hours later, the sun was starting to set and there was still no sign of Stan. That couldn’t be good.

“Maybe he just got caught up in a really good game of bingo?” Mabel suggested, ever the optimist. “You know, old people things.”

Dipper frowned, considering the thought. “There’s no way Grunkle Stan would have lasted this long without getting thrown out for cheating.”

Try as Dipper may, he couldn’t exactly think of anything that could occupy their Grunkle for this long. The townspeople weren’t exactly his greatest fans, and Stan had always seemed more content to sit in his armchair and watch television than go out anywhere. So what could it be? What could possibly be taking him so long? Had the fight really been that bad?

… Well, their last big fight had landed Great Uncle Ford on the other side of an interdimensional portal so, yeah, maybe. But Grunkle Stan wouldn’t just leave them, would he?

“Maybe we should go out and find him,” Mabel piped up, interrupting Dipper’s train of thought. “He might just have fallen asleep somewhere! It’s getting close to his bedtime.”

Dipper knew that she was just trying to lighten the mood, but it did nothing to soothe the sinking feeling he was starting to get.

No big deal. You just have to find Stan and bring him back. Piece of cake.

Minds made up, they grabbed their bags and headed down to the door, swiping the keys to the golf cart from the tray in the Gift Shop. While they could easily walk to town, they decided that it would be quicker to take the cart. Gravity Falls covered a pretty expansive area, and Stan could be anywhere.

They briefly hesitated by the vending machine, exchanging an uneasy glance. Did they tell Great Uncle Ford where they were going? Did they invite him along? … No, he likely wouldn’t come anyways. Besides, maybe he needed some time alone too, and it’d likely not be a good idea to drag him along on a trip to find the person he was fighting in the first place.

It was decided that they head into town first. Though it was no longer a secret that Grunkle Stan believed in and had experience with the supernatural, it seemed unlikely for him to journey into the woods. At best, he was disinterested in that whole business. Besides, he was driving, and the woods weren’t very car-friendly.

“We should have made posters before we left.” Mabel thought aloud as they parked the cart, tapping her chin. “How can you hunt for someone if you don’t even have a picture of them?”

Dipper rolled his eyes fondly, knowing she just wanted to stretch her creativity - and maybe put a dent in her glitter stockpile. “This town is pretty small, Mabel, and Grunkle Stan isn’t exactly a shut-in. I’m pretty sure everyone has at least heard of him.”

Mabel blew a raspberry, clearly disliking his answer, but not having a good enough rebuttal.

Though Dipper had felt pretty positive they would find Stan somewhere in town, his confidence began to wane with each area searched. Every street and building they checked turned up no trace of him and the townspeople seemed too disinterested to provide anything useful. It was starting to make that sinking feeling intensify, twisting in Dipper’s gut. If Grunkle Stan wasn’t in town, where was he?

A familiar red car caught Dipper’s attention as they rounded a corner, parked in the parking lot of the grocery store. Hope blossomed in his chest as he grabbed his sister’s arm, pointing over to it. “Mabel, look! It’s Grunkle Stan’s car!”

The two rushed over to it, but their faces fell when they discovered it empty. The only thing inside was a bag of groceries, sitting innocently in the passenger seat. Dipper frowned, mindlessly putting a hand on the door handle and pulling, though he knew very well Stan would never leave his precious car unloc--

It was unlocked.

That didn’t make sense. Grunkle Stan’s pastime was stealing and scamming, so he always made sure to keep careful track of his possessions; his car especially. Anytime they went out anywhere, he’d always triple check to make sure the doors were locked and the windows were rolled up. “A beauty like this, anyone’d steal her if they got the chance!” He had explained once. Dipper hadn’t had the heart to tell him he really didn’t think anyone would care enough to steal an old, beat-up car like this.

Mabel reached into the bag of groceries, taking out a carton of milk. “It’s warm.” She murmured, eyes taking on a fearful and distant quality. If the milk was warm, that meant Grunkle Stan hadn’t been here in some time, but where could he have gone without his car?

Dipper looked up towards the forest, looming a few feet away from the edge of the parking lot. Maybe he had…? No, why would Grunkle Stan head into the woods, especially when he had groceries? Something wasn’t adding up here, and that sinking feeling returned with a vengeance.

They decided to do one last sweep of the town, just in case. It couldn’t hurt, could it? They made sure to check in with the store as well, just in case he had gone back for something. As expected, the cashier merely shook her head and said he had only been there the one time, and that was hours ago to boot.

Eventually, the two decided to take a break on a bench, wearing identical frowns as they tried to think of their next move. If he wasn’t in town, then that meant he had most likely gone into the forest. The question still remained: why? Had something lured him in?

...Maybe Great Uncle Ford had something that could help. Surely he didn’t hate Stan that much that he would refuse to help if he had gone missing, right? They should go and talk to him.

“Hey Dipper, do you hear that?” Mabel piped up, straightening from her slouched posture, squinting into the distance.

Dipper blinked out of his thoughts and focused. Sure enough, he could faintly hear something coming from somewhere nearby. It almost sounded like… Crying? He straightened too now, probing his surroundings for the source. The few townspeople he saw milling about all seemed fine.

Then he spied a bundle of brown, white and red, tucked in an alleyway behind some garbage bins. As Dipper looked closer, he realized that it wasn’t just any bundle: it was a boy, roughly around their age. He had his knees drawn up to his chest and his face hidden, shoulders silently trembling. Dipper winced in sympathy. He must be lost.

Mabel followed his gaze, silently gasping at the sight. Without bothering to wait for Dipper’s input, she hopped over the back of the bench and carefully approached the boy. Dipper scrambled a little less gracefully, but nonetheless fell into step beside her.

As they got closer to the boy, Dipper noticed the twigs in his hair and the dirt on his clothes. They looked a little torn too, ripped at the edges. Had he run into one of the supernatural creatures in the woods? Dipper thought the townspeople usually avoided venturing too far from civilization, but that was usually the adults.

He had been trying to think of a good opener so they didn’t needlessly scare him more, but it seemed like the boy was more perceptive than Dipper thought. As soon as they got closer, his head shot up, bloodshot eyes darting around wildly. When he saw them, he hastily scrubbed at his face with the heel of his hand, trying to hide the tears.

“Are you lost?” Mabel asked, stooping down to be level with the boy. Her expression was soft and open, trying to make herself as non-threatening as possible. Really, she didn’t need to try. Though Mabel was certainly no pushover, she looked about as threatening as a puppy. The puppy knitted into her sweater didn’t help that, either.

“I’m fine!” The boy said almost immediately, his accent immediately sticking out as something not local. He must be touring with his family and had gotten lost; now his possible forest excursion made a lot more sense. The boy sniffed again, hunching his shoulders as if he wanted to appear bigger, but made no move to get off the pavement. “I’m just… Taking a detour.”

“Detour?” Mabel asked conversationally, her head tilting. “Where are you going? Maybe we can help!”

The boy squinted at Mabel reproachfully, sizing her up. “...The beach.” He eventually said, huffing out a sigh. At least the tears had dried up, though he still looked uneasy in their presence. “I was s’posed to meet my brother there after I got us some candy, but…” He trailed off, squinting. “...I think I fell asleep.”  

Mabel and Dipper exchanged a look. There were no beaches anywhere near Gravity Falls, unless you counted the vaguely sandy shores of the lake. Maybe it was something in the forest? Though it definitely felt like he and Mabel had been over every inch of those woods, they had never come out the other side. But what were the chances of a child - possibly two children - braving the woods and finding something Dipper and Mabel hadn’t yet?

The boy continued on unperturbed by the exchange, seeming to gain enough confidence to show vulnerability in front of the twins. “An’ I don’t really know where I am! One minute I’m walkin’ the boardwalk, then pow! I’m on the ground eatin’ grass! It took me forever to get back here, but I’ve never been in this part of town before!” He took a deep, shuddering breath, fingers tightening in the fabric of his pants. “I’ve been gone for a real long time, he’s probably worried sick now. An’ if Pa finds out…”

Okay. Something supernatural was at foot here, no question about it. Had it wiped the boy’s memories, maybe? That would explain the sudden shift in location, but not where he had been originally. There were no beaches or boardwalks anywhere in Gravity Falls, and the accent was a sticking point. It sounded like he came from a whole other state. So had he been teleported?

And then, of course, there was still the mystery of their missing Grunkle. As alluring as this particular mystery was, Dipper kept thinking back to the abandoned car and the warm groceries. If something had happened to Stan, especially so soon after those agents had been by… He didn’t want to think about that.

The boy suddenly jumped to his feet, startling Dipper out of his thoughts as the boy’s eyes darted wildly around the alley. “Oh no, my brother’s alone! What if Crampelter gets him? I need to be there!”

Crampelter sounded… Familiar, but Dipper couldn’t place where. Still, speculations could wait. For now, they needed to keep him calm. If he really had been teleported from another state, the explanation that something supernatural had done this to him would likely freak him out more.

“Whoa there, calm down. We’ll help you find him.” Dipper said without thinking, raising his hands placatingly. Of course, he didn’t know how they were going to do that, but he felt like the boy would just rush off no matter what they said. At least this way, they could keep an eye on him and make sure he didn’t get more lost.

“Yeah!” Mabel chimed in, luckily following his lead without argument. That didn’t surprise him; she was always trying to keep spirits up, no matter whose they were. “We’re missing someone too, so maybe we can all help each other!”

The boy hesitated, clearly not completely trusting them just yet, but there was a flicker of something hopeful in his eyes. Eventually, he nodded, sticking out his hand. “Okay, you guys got a deal. But we need to find my brother first, okay? Trust me, if anyone can find your guys’ missing guy, it’s him. He’s got like…” He paused, counting on his fingers. “A billion smarts in his head!”

Dipper wanted to argue with that. Stan could be in serious danger, maybe hurt somewhere. Why else would he take so long getting back? Yet Mabel cut him off, taking the boy’s hand and shaking it. “Deal!”

Seeming to ignore Dipper’s hissed ‘Mabel’, Mabel threw her arm around her brother and pulled him into a side-hug. “I’m Mabel, and this is my twin brother Dipper! What’s your name?”

That seemed to get the boy’s attention, his eyes widening as he looked a little in awe at the two. “You’re twins? Me an’ my brother are twins too!” Whatever misgivings the boy had left seemed to vanish and he fully grinned this time. Dipper could see that one of his teeth was missing. “My name’s Stan!”

“That’s the same name as our Grunkle!” Mabel chimed, eyes widening. She quickly dug into her bag, taking out a photo from their Summerween that she hadn’t found a place for in her scrapbook just yet. She pointed to him in the picture. “You see someone like that before?”

Stan squinted at the picture, thinking carefully. “Hmmm. I dunno what a “grunkle” is, but I’ve never seen him before.” He paused, tilting his head. “He kinda looks like my Pa, but… Really really old.”

Dipper was starting to get a sense of deja vu. The chances that this boy had the same name as Stan and had a twin brother had already seemed a little too convenient in Dipper’s mind, but now Grunkle Stan looked like this boy’s dad? Something was weird here. Was he some kind of distant relative? A cousin, maybe?

Mabel, meanwhile, looked a little dejected as she put the photo back into her bag, but was still smiling through it. “That’s okay. At least you know what he looks like now! Maybe we’ll run into him while we search for your bro, or maybe they’re even together!”

As the trio journeyed out of the alleyway into the dying sunlight, Stan began to look around at their surroundings. That same uneasy expression flickered across his face before he schooled it into one of determination, hitting his fist into his open palm as he spoke. “Alright. We need to get to the beach first and make sure he isn’t still there. If he’s not, then we’ll go to my Pa’s pawnshop next.”

Pawnshop? Grunkle Stan’s life story came to mind once again, specifically his childhood. Hadn’t he said his family lived above their own pawn shop? These similarities were starting to get creepy, and Dipper found his mind beginning to wander.

Was it really possible that Grunkle Stan was…?

“Hey, uh… What did you say your last name was?” He asked hesitantly, stopping to turn and face Stan again. It probably came across as a silly question, but Dipper needed to know for sure. Stan blinked at him, looking confused now.

“Um, Pines? But my last name isn’t gonna help us find Ford!” Stan made to move past the twins, only faltering when he must have realized he didn’t exactly know where to go. He turned back to them, impatient. “C’mon, we’re wasting time!”

Darn. Looks like Dipper’s hunch had been right.

The twins exchanged an alarmed glance, Mabel sputtering in her surprise. “W-Wait, Grunkle Stan? Is that you?”

Stan blinked once again, caught off guard by the sudden question. “What? I’m not that old! I’m ten and that guy looked like… 100.” He reached up to squish his own cheeks, digging his fingers into the flesh. “I don’t even have wrinkles.”

So not only had their Grunkle been turned back into a 10-year-old, but he hadn’t retained any memories of his older self. Dipper awkwardly tugged at the collar of his shirt at the revelation, going quiet. How were they supposed to explain this to him? He wouldn’t understand. Not to mention, Stan was starting to get that cagey look in his eye as the moment dragged. They didn’t need Stan running off on them.

But that left them with an uncomfortable problem. Sure, Dipper felt pretty confident in his own skills with the weird and paranormal creatures and items in the forest - the answer to turning Grunkle Stan back to his proper age likely lurked there - but what were they supposed to do with Stan in the meantime? Dipper doubted he’d be up for a forest trek.

...Nevermind that, what were they going to tell Great Uncle Ford? After that fight, how would he react to his brother like this? They couldn’t exactly hide Stan from him.

Well, Great Uncle Ford or not, they needed the journal to begin trying to straighten out this mess. That was back in their room, which meant they needed to convince Stan to come back with them. How were they going to manage that?

“Yeah, you’re definitely not our Stan,” Dipper cut in quickly as Stan opened his mouth, likely to protest some more. “That’s okay, we can worry about that later. You said your brother was your twin, right? So that means you look like each other?”

Stan squinted suspiciously at Dipper, but nodded all the same. “Yeah, but he has big glasses.” He held his hands up, cupping his fingers around his eyes. “And he don’t got as many band-aids as me. Oh, and he wears this nerdy jacket.”

Dipper nodded along with the description, conspiratorially rubbing his chin in thought. “Yeah, I think I’ve actually seen someone like that today. He wasn’t at the beach, though.”

Mabel seemed to be clueing in to Dipper’s ploy now and she gasped, putting her hands to her face. “Hey, yeah! I remember that now. He was back at... the Mystery Shack, wasn’t he?”

The suspicion melted off Stan’s face all too easily. Grunkle Stan would be disappointed in himself. “Really? Did he look okay?”

“Uhhh… Yeah!” Mabel answered, having to think. “He looked kind of worried though, I think he was looking for you.”

Apparently, that was all the convincing Stan needed. “Then what are we waiting for? Let’s go!”

---

Though it had been a few days since he had returned to his home dimension, Ford still found himself struggling to adjust to this new modern era. In the 30 years since Ford had gone through the portal, the world had moved on without him, oblivious that he was even missing in the first place. Of course, part of that had been Stan’s fault, but Stan hadn’t brought about 30 years of technological development on his own.

Nonetheless, if Stan had just listened to him for once in his godforsaken life, Ford wouldn’t have missed those developments in the first place. Now he was practically a prisoner in his own home, forced to hide out in the basement while his brother masqueraded as him. It was an affront to Ford’s pride and life’s work, having his identity stolen and turned around like that. Really, what had Stan been thinking?

The rational part of Ford reminded him that his precious “life’s work” had nearly brought about the end of the universe. If he hadn’t trusted Bill in the first place, been as smart as he liked to believe he was, then there wouldn’t have been a portal to go through. Fiddleford would certainly be the better for it - God, was he still alive? Ford needed to check on him.

Yet the stubborn part of Ford wanted to hold tight to his anger. It was easier to just blame Stan for everything. Stan was the one who broke his project, crushed his dreams, and pushed him through an interdimensional portal. Perhaps it was irrational, but Ford felt comfortable with this anger. These weren’t petty incidents: they were life-altering. He was completely justified in feeling the way he felt right now.

That had partially been what their fight earlier in the day had been about. After he had sealed the Rift and dismantled the portal, Ford had decided to do a basic search on his name to see if he could track down his brother’s movements. It was then that he discovered the rather extensive criminal record now attached to his name. Ford hadn’t realized there were even official names for half of these crimes.

So angry, he had promptly gone upstairs to find his brother and give him a piece of his mind. Hadn’t he realized what a mess this would be to sort out when he was able to exist under his own name again? Had he thought through anything in the time Ford had been gone?

“Why do you always have to ruin my life?!”

Ford remembered the momentary look of hurt in his brother’s eyes as he hurled that accusation at him and, briefly, felt bad. Stan had shored up that vulnerability pretty fast, spouting the same excuse he had stuck by ever since Ford got back: “I was doing it for you!” His sympathy dried up almost immediately.

For Ford. As if making Ford a criminal would do him ANY good. Stan hadn’t bothered to stick around to hear Ford’s rebuttal, saying something about how he didn’t need to take this kind of shit before storming off outside. A snide voice in Ford’s head pointed out that Stan was just running away from the consequences of his own actions, just as he had done for the entirety of his life. Nothing was ever his fault.

That had been hours ago now. When he checked his watch, he could see that it was well past the time Stan normally cooked dinner for them. Usually, he would call Ford up to join them (most likely out of obligation, or maybe for the kids’ sakes), but he hadn’t heard anything yet.

Ford couldn’t say he was surprised. After that fight, it wasn’t a stretch to assume Stan decided he didn’t want to see his brother so soon. Ford couldn’t say he wanted to see Stan so soon either, so he didn’t really begrudge being left out. If he was quiet enough, he might be able to sneak some food for himself without alerting the family.

As he did his best to close the vending machine as silently as he could and entered the house portion of the Mystery Shack (Moses, what a terrible name), he noticed just how quiet everything was. Ford even stood still and listened, trying to pick up any sounds that could be coming from upstairs. There was nothing.

Odd, but hardly Ford’s concern. All three of the house residents were plenty capable of handling themselves from what he could tell, and it wasn’t exactly his job to babysit them. Well, babysit Stan, at least.

So he shrugged the oddity off and continued to the kitchen, rooting around for something to eat. Since he had the house to himself, perhaps he would actually cook himself something for once. Sure, when he was last in this dimension, he typically subsisted off ready-made food, but having something warm and fresh was a luxury he hadn’t been able to afford in the multiverse.

Soon enough, he had two eggs simmering happily in the pan. The mundaneness was a nice break from the 30 years of hell he had been through, and Ford relished in it. For once, everything was fine.

His thoughts were interrupted by the distant sound of a door opening. Ford assumed it to be the front door at first, but soon realized it had come from the wrong end of the house. The only other door that lead outside was the Gift Shop door, but that was supposed to be closed for the public. Perhaps one of the family had decided to use that door out of convenience?

It could also be someone - or something - breaking in. The vending machine was in the Gift Shop. Bill was still at large. The Rift was in his lab. That wasn’t good.

Shutting the stove off, Ford quickly but quietly sprinted towards the Gift Shop. The chances of Bill retaliating were slim, but slim wasn’t nothing. Ford couldn’t afford to be lenient, not when the universe was at stake.

Once he got to the door that separated the shop from the house, he could pick up on three voices. Two he recognized as Dipper and Mabel, but the third was unfamiliar. While the presence of the youngest twins was a mild relief, the unfamiliar voice did nothing to tamp down his panic. What if Bill had possessed someone and had tricked the children? It wouldn’t be beneath him.

Ford considered opening the door a crack to see if he could catch sight of the stranger’s eyes, but thought better of it. If anyone saw him, it’d be over. Bill was all too familiar with him and had two easy bargaining chips should Ford try and block their path. Instead, he pressed his ear to the door and tried to listen to their conversation.

“... And you’re totally sure he was still here when you guys left?” The unfamiliar voice said. Now what he was thinking of it, Ford couldn’t shake the feeling that he had heard that voice somewhere before. At least it wasn’t Bill’s voice, though that didn’t eliminate the possibility of the demon’s involvement.

“Sure was!” That was Mabel, that much was obvious. “He was showing off this picture he had to everyone.”

“A picture?” The unfamiliar voice echoed. “Huh. I wonder why.”

“While we’re here, we need to pick something up.” And there was Dipper. “Can you wait here? We won’t be long.”

What? They were leaving a stranger alone near the vending machine? Even if they weren’t a stranger to them, that was still dangerous! Ford was going to need to sit them down and have a word with them about how important it was to keep the vending machine away from prying eyes.

No time for that now as he heard footsteps start approaching the door Ford had pressed himself against. Thinking quickly, he ducked into hiding right as the twins came into the house. He held his breath as they passed him by, heading upstairs to their shared room. It didn’t seem like they had seen him.

With them gone, he could now check on this stranger without any collateral.

Not bothering to be subtle, Ford pushed the Gift Shop’s door open. Playing cat and mouse with Bill was a pointless endeavor; it was best to face him head-on. However, what he saw inside made his blood run cold.

There in the Gift Shop stood a child that looked strikingly similar to Stan when he was a child, right down to the face, hair, and clothes. He was holding a Stan bobblehead in his hands, turning it over and over, watching the head jiggle with a fascinated stare. His eyes, Ford noted dimly, were brown.

The child looked up at Ford’s entrance, tilting his head curiously at him. He only looked at him a moment before he cupped his free hand around his mouth, shouting: “Dipper! Mabel! I found your missing Grunkle!”

With a face to put to the voice, the realization of why he sounded so familiar hit him like a truck. This wasn’t just someone who looked like Stanley, this was Stanley.

The shock must have shown on his face as Stan was looking at him again, this time with a little concern and a bit of apprehension. “You okay there mister? You look kinda sick.”

Ford took a deep breath, forcing his thoughts to the back of his head. Obviously something supernatural had gotten to him, though he couldn’t remember encountering anything that could do this. That wasn’t a good sign, he was going to need to refresh himself with his journals to double-check.

“Yes, I’m… I’m fine.” He finally said, pushing a hand through his hair. Stan’s gaze was immediately drawn to the motion, and Ford realized his mistake as soon as he saw those eyes widen.

“Whoa, you got six fingers! My brother’s got six fingers too!” He exclaimed, reaching out to grab Ford’s free hand. Ford had to resist the instinct to yank his hand back and shove it out of sight. Stan continued, “People are always sayin’ he’s a freak, but wait till I show him this! He can’t be a freak if there’s other people like him! He’s gonna be so happy!”

Ford felt himself wince. Back then, there were no shortage of people who were uncomfortable with his extra fingers. Abnormalities weren’t (aren’t?) something the public took kindly too and chose to distance themselves from Ford accordingly. Others had mocked him for it, helpfully reminding him that there was nowhere freaks like him would belong.

Stan had been the only one to tell him that his extra fingers made him special, not a freak, and that they were just jealous. If Stan was there, which was common back then, he had always stood up for Ford and told the bullies straight to their face how wrong they were. Seeing Stan so awed now and immediately thinking of how Ford would feel made his heart clench uncomfortably.

Stan’s loyalty had always been unwavering, his conscience reminded him. No matter how stupid and reckless it was, Stan was always there. It was why Ford was standing here in the first place.

Luckily, Ford didn’t need to think of a comeback as he heard the door open behind him. He turned to see the twins had returned, Dipper holding one of his journals. They were staring at him with shock.

“See? I found your Grunkle!” Stan piped up, letting go of Ford’s hand to gesture dramatically at him. “Now we can go back to finding Ford! Oh, wait-” He turned back to face Ford, looking serious now. “Have you seen him? He looks like me, but with glasses.”

Ah. He was looking for Ford. That caused another uncomfortable heart clench.

“Um… Gr-- I mean, Stan…” Mabel started, helplessly trailing off. It was then that Ford knew what he needed to do.

He crouched down so he was eye level with Stan, gently placing his hands on his shoulders. “I’m right here, Stanley.”

Stan stiffened under his hands, looking up at Ford with a mixture of confusion and apprehension. Even in their youth, Stan hadn’t been the type to easily buy into what people told him. While Ford admittedly found himself falling for the lies his classmates would tell, desperate for admiration and acceptance, Stan was always the first to call a bluff. He had written it off as mere gut instinct - Ford was the one with the smarts to see through the lies later in life, after all.  

Oh, how wrong Stan had been.

“Last I checked, my brother wasn’t a dinosaur.” Stan shot back, though his tone lacked conviction. His brows were furrowed as he stubbornly looked down at his shoe, refusing to meet Ford’s gaze. It was an expression of Stan’s that Ford could still read even after all these years: fear.

“If I wasn’t your brother, I wouldn’t know about that time you and I thought we killed the Sibling Brothers and stole their clothes,” Ford said gently, watching Stan’s eyes snap up to meet his own. “I wouldn’t know that the real reason you lost that tooth there is because you fell out of a tree, not because you were fighting bullies. I wouldn’t know that you’re afraid of heights, or that you once called Mr. Kord ‘Pa’ in 3rd grade, or that you lost a fight to a crab in 4th.”  

He punctuated his explanation with a squeeze of his brother’s shoulders, hoping to be reassuring. “I promise you, Stanley. It’s really me.”

Stan was now staring at him with open shock, eyes blown wide. When he finally spoke, his voice was small and hesitant. “S-Sixer? But… What?”

For the first time in 40 years, Ford gave his brother a bittersweet smile.

“I’ll explain in the house.”

[anistarrose]

The End (Of The Lonely Road) Approaches [Gravity Falls - WhatWouldTeslaDo]

Word Count: ~950

Summary:  The drive from New Mexico to Oregon is long and snowy, and Stan can’t help but be distracted by his own thoughts about how much his twin has changed.

Warnings: Minor (but frightening) car accident, fairly strong swearing

Based off the Paranoid Ford ask blog @whatwouldteslado​, and while I can’t recommend it strongly enough, you can read this without having read that blog. All you need to know is that it's a canon divergence AU where Ford:

1. dismantles the portal

2. calls Stan to ask him to come, and warns him to watch out for people with yellow eyes.

(Also on AO3, as a gift for @fordanoia!)

It didn’t take long for the mild New Mexico winter to vanish and snow to coat the roads, forcing Stan to slow down. Which was probably what he deserved for deciding to drive through freaking Colorado instead of Arizona, but the route had looked just a little shorter that way, and he didn’t want to try and take any shortcuts on local roads and risk getting lost.

And, well, excuse him for not thinking too clearly when his twin brother was four states away and rambling about people with glowing yellow eyes that were out to get both of them.

Stan still didn’t know what to think of that phone call. How the hell were you supposed to respond to your estranged twin calling you, all paranoid and incoherent, and begging you drive hundreds of miles to meet them?

Stan just knew that if he’d said no, or just pretended it hadn’t happened, he’d never be able to stop worrying. If he left Ford to fend for himself, he’d live in fear of the phone ringing again, this time with a message that his brother had gone missing — or worse.

Probably worse. What had Ford said, that he’d “already been in town for too long?” That Stan couldn’t trust anyone? Was Ford even interacting with any living, normal people who might notice he was missing and report it?

So really, Stan thought grimly, if they were going to call me about something happening to him, it would be because they found a body.

And that was when it sunk in — how little Stan really knew his twin, how little he could wrap his mind around the idea of the brother he knew getting murdered in some crazy hick town in Oregon.

Gone was the boy who was only paranoid about elaborate, distant government cover-ups of UFO crashes, conspiracies that would never make him, or any normal person, worry for their own safety. Gone was the nerdy kid who looked at mystery and secrets and creepy glowing eyes as an adventure, as something to study. Gone was the boy who was fascinated with the weird — replaced by the unstable man who feared it.

Though still there, for sure, was the genius whose head was always in the clouds, thinking about things most people couldn’t even begin to understand while missing so many warning signs, so many dangers. It was the brother who had always kept him safe that had left.

Without really meaning to, Stan pushed his foot down on the accelerator, desperate to cut down on the length of his trip by even a few minutes — just as he rounded a curve.

The car began to skid, the brake coming down but failing to accomplish anything besides making a horrible noise that sent Stan into a state of shock.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck —”

Stan had skidded plenty of times before, usually while fleeing from people who were thankfully several hundred feet behind him and skidding even worse than he was, and he’d never gone off the road — at least, not so far off that he couldn’t drive right back on and make his escape, dented doors and misaligned wheels be damned.

But those times had been different, because he’d concentrating as hard as he could on the drive, not lost in thought. He’d been expecting the skid those times, knowing it was a risk he was taking for going as fast as he was, not daydreaming about how in a way he’d abandoned the person that he’d always blamed for abandoning him.

This time, Stan hadn’t been prepared for the car to start swerving through the dark, and he jerked the wheel and slammed the brakes on instinct, too panicked to think about what would have the best chance at getting him out of the skid. He barely even processed that he was driving with only one functional headlight, meaning he could easily fly off the edge of a cliff, and not even realize until he was already falling to his death —

Somehow, some combination of instinct and dumb luck eventually guided the car to a stop, and for a moment, Stan just put it in park and sat still, heart pounding.

He didn’t think he’d hit anything, and if he had hit something without noticing it, it probably hadn’t been big enough to cause any damage. But he easily could have died — there could have been another car on the road, he could have gone off a cliff, he could have had a fucking heart attack — and then what would have happened to Ford?

He’d probably just think I betrayed him again, Stan realized, and while he didn’t want to believe it — wanted to believe Ford would worry for him instead — he knew it was probably true.

He got out and checked the car over. It took a lot longer than it should have, even though he wasn’t very thorough, because he’d never bothered to buy a flashlight to keep in his car and had to resort to using his lighter to see instead. At least the warm orange flame kept his fingers from going numb.

Once he was satisfied, which was probably after about three minutes but felt like about thirty, he got back into the car, and cautiously pulled off the shoulder and onto the road. Everything seemed to be working fine, no misaligned wheels or broken brakes.

“Don’t worry, Stanford,” he whispered. “I’m coming.”

***

The title is mostly about Stan preparing to reunite with Ford, but also partly about how WWTD may be ending very soon, and oh man, I am not prepared. I'm hoping Stan will be able to do something to help, because damn, does Ford need help...

Anyways, feedback is appreciated as always!

[impishnature]

The Light Keeper (Part 14)

AO3

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13

Rating: T

Summary: A beast lurks in the waters. Stan loses Ford to the waves, the lighthouse his only point of contact and hope of ever getting him back. …He used to love the sea, now it’s taken everything from him.

Lighthouse Keeper AU.

Series of One-shots.

AN: Commission and story collab with @garrulousgibberish​ based on their Lighthouse Keeper AU (link above).  Warnings: Nightmares, intrusive thoughts and suicidal ideation.

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Part 14: The Plea That Lit The Way

Keeper…

The nights were still the hardest.

When everyone else had finally fallen asleep and everything felt off kilter again.

Stan gave an endearing sigh as he ruffled his brother’s hair, getting a small still asleep frown for his efforts. The two kids were bundled up in his arms, all three fast asleep on the sofa from a day filled with beach adventures and an evening filled with warm drinks and warmer company as the TV droned on through movie after movie until eyelids slipped and small bodies grew heavy and cumbersome.

And soon enough Ford and Stan were giggling, hushed words over two fast asleep children accompanying the soft music permeating from whatever movie had been left long forgotten.

But even that was short lived, Stan huffing out a small rumble of laughter as his brother, regardless of his fast slurring words that he would stay awake until the end of the movie, soon followed the kids into the land of nod. Even in sleep, his arms still locked around the two kids, his head resting on his brother’s shoulder as if drawing enough warmth from them to make up for the years apart.

Stan had hummed, holding all three of them for a while as his eyes focused back on the TV, hopeful that soon enough he too would drift off. He sat, trying not to smile too much even with no one there to see, as he already wistfully thought about the morning and the gruff words he would spout at Mabel waking first and taking opportune photos of everyone else fast asleep, bundled up in as many blankets as Mabel had been able to carry in one trip down the stairs from Ford’s room.

But sleep never came.

“Come on.” Stan hit his head on the back of the sofa, a small sigh of irritation leaving him as he soon became restless. He never had been one to lie awake until he fell asleep, it never worked. He’d toss and turn, think about the things he had to do, think about how much work had to be done and soon enough up he’d be, stretching and heading to the lighthouse to continue working, regardless of the sleep he knew he desperately needed.

After all, Ford was waiting for him.

And even with Ford beside him, Ford completely ok and here and safe- something in him still wouldn’t let him sleep.

It wasn’t anything in particular, thirty years of unforgiving thoughts and an even more unforgiving schedule, his body just couldn’t seem to get into the mind-set that everything was fine now, that he could rest easily without worry, that he had finally done something worthwhile.

That he deserved to sleep.

For some reason that was the hardest thing of all to stick, that he was allowed to rest, that he deserved it, that the world wasn’t going to fall apart as soon as he closed his eyes-

That Ford would still be there when he opened them again.

He gave a deep groan, hand scrubbing at his face. Ford muttered, a small upset noise before burrowing into his side further as if he could feel Stan’s distress and even in sleep wanted to smooth away the wayward thoughts. A soft warm feeling filled Stan’s chest. He knew that it was all nightmares, the scant amount of sleep he was getting still filled with them whenever he finally caved, either at the kitchen table or actually in his bed like he was meant to. That every time the darkness descended, he would scurry downstairs quickly and find his brother already awake and giving him a smile from above a cup of coffee, which led to good natured bickering even if now Ford was up and about Stan couldn’t stop him ingesting as much caffeine as he could muster.

Yes, he knew that they were baseless. His mind playing tricks on him because his mind had never exactly been kind to him- but that didn’t mean they were easy to ignore when the world was dark and he woke up shaking and alone in his room with the dismal panic that everything had been a dream and the world hadn’t righted itself like he had hoped so desperately for.

He didn’t know what he’d do if one day he went downstairs and Ford wasn’t there, that this had all been a dream and the kids had never gotten to meet…

A small tremor went through him at the thought, his arms tightening around the three of them as he shook his head.

No, this is real. This isn’t a dream. …Are you sure? Can you ever really be sure?

Stan scowled at the slippery thought, intrusive and vastly unwelcome. He ignored it. Focused on his families breathing, focused on the small drumbeat of a heart from the small hand tight around his even in sleep. “Of course I’m sure.” The words came out without effort, whispered into the night and he wasn’t sure if it was his imagination but Ford seemed to relax even further at the determined words.

Oh? Is that so? You know- when have you ever known anything? I just do. There’s no two ways about it. Ahh- gut instinct. I guess it had to be, you’re not Sixer, after all. No facts and figures, just baseless optimism… I didn’t even know you were still capable of that.

Stan’s teeth gritted tight, eyes darting around as a cold draft descended. He felt Dipper shudder and brought the blankets up around him further, unthinkingly as he regarded the voice silently. Whatever it was seemed to wait in the wings, in the stark shadows accentuated by the TV’s harsh glow across the four of them, bundled up in a bubble of light inside the darkness that he refused to let into their little world.

Oh, yes, he knew the creature was there. Knew now more than he ever had before that it was its words that added to his own overflowing self-doubt and self-loathing. Fed off of all those twisted, scarred emotions and tugged them to the forefront to watch him stew and rot in them. Had watched him struggle and fight on the precipice of those agonising thoughts all alone in the gloom of the lantern room, year after year. Decade after decade. Oh, he knew it was there and he knew these thoughts and feelings were his own, just magnified and fizzling for whatever motive this creature had, to play with him, to toy with his emotions, to watch him jump hoops and run rings all to get his brother back. It was ironic looking back, knowing that the deeper he fell into the pit of despair, the harder he strived for a purpose- strived to drag his brother back from the hell the creature showed him night after night if he gave in to sleep. It was ironic to realise that this creature had been able to read him like an open book, had known exactly how to play him to get the results it required of him.

The conman stripped bare of his façade.

A wide tooth filled grin, sharp and vicious coasted across his face.

That was why the victory was all the sweeter. He’d done everything the creature had wanted, and still come out on top.

Underestimated until the very end. No longer a pawn in the creature’s game, but the victor defeating the odds.

He always had been a gambler.

And even now he was gambling with everything he held dear, a single trail of thought sliding through as he closed his eyes and let the sounds of the TV drag him back to reality.

Yes, just like he knew that this was reality, he knew that it was there, eyes glowing unseen in the darkness, teeth chattering in warning in his peripheral.

But that didn’t mean he had to acknowledge it.

Sure, maybe it would be good, healthy even, to acknowledge that the words were not his own. That his head wasn’t quite as self-destructive as he always thought it had been. But then again, he knew that no matter what, monster or no monster, he still had his own demons, not quite buried away and always ready to claw themselves out of whatever recess he had managed to push them into.

No, it was better not to give this creature any credit at all. It was all in his head, it always had been.

What better way to really drive it home that he had won, than to ignore everything this creature had tried to accomplish with him?

Optimism? That died a long time ago. But gut instinct and reckless determination seem to have gotten me this far, with or without that. Oh, you don’t really think you’ve won, do you?

A sharp chuckle sounded through the still air, a hissing sound as if air was being pushed past more teeth than Stan could count. His teeth gritted even further, his hands bunching into fists as he kept his eyes closed and refused to converse any further. The draft slipped over his shoulders and down his spine as if something was settling around him. He forced his hands open, tugged another of the blankets tight around him as he latched on to the warmth of the other bodies on the sofa. There was only so far that he could pretend the voice was his own, keep talking like he used to, keep thinking the voice was a biting sharp edged blade forged inside his own mind to cut him to the quick.

Oh? Are we done? Can’t think of anymore arguments, keeper? …Well, that won’t stop me talking. You have after all, already let me in. You think you’ve won, little keeper? Think you’ve stopped me? You were just one avenue, one option. You weren’t special, you never were. What’s special about you? My little key held more promise than you did, jumping at the chance to help me...

Stan’s frown grew stronger, his arm tightening around his brother as if to protect him from the unseen assailant.

Oh, so you are still listening. Silly keeper, you just can’t stop doing things you shouldn’t, can you? But don’t worry, it won’t be long now. You seem to think this is it. It’s not. It’ll never be over. I’ll always be here, watching… waiting. You’ll slip up one day, you’ll need that light again, you know it will happen. Someone else will fall, someone easy to lure out, easy to trick…

A small sigh reminded Stan of the three bodies, so unaware of the conflict running around his head. He tried his best, tried to push the thoughts away but they tugged at those fears all over again. All those little thoughts already there that blossomed into thick vines that made it hard to breathe as he sat there. Small flashing images of history repeating itself, of the world turning on its head again as someone once again falls where he can’t protect them.

There was a scream, an echoing sound that he chased through the darkness, so familiar and so heart-breaking.

“Grunkle Stan!”

He tried to shake his head, tried to remind himself that that particular scream had been born from his foolhardy nature, that in reality it was a cry of relief at seeing him back on solid ground after rescuing his brother.

“Stan!”

A tremble of fear shot through him as they continued, as both twins cried out in fear, his brother’s voice soon joining them and when he turned to face them they were no longer there.

A moonlit sandy beach where his family had once been.

He felt his knees give out beneath him, the moon casting a sickly yellow hue on the scene. With a nauseated gaze he saw two sand angels, half made in the sand from that morning, the sea lapping over them, slowly wiping them from sight as if they had never been there. Even so he could still see the fresher marks, the deeper ones. The clawed gouges in the sand, hands trying desperately to stay on dry land as they were dragged into the sea, the voices gurgling and joining the bubbling foam of the ocean until nothing remained.

Dipper’s cry echoed in a way unlike Mabel’s, still sounding after the others had long since faded until there was a terrible sickening crunch. The wind vanished, complete solid silence flooding the area. He found his body moving without conscious effort, facing the caves that had terrified the boy as pages scattered out of the opening, all of Dipper’s hard work fluttering across the winds splattered in a horrid viscous black liquid that also trailed in rivulets from the cave entrance.

And I’ll take more this time. You hold so many silly things dear to your heart, so many things to take away from you… One by one. One by one they’ll find their way to me, one by one I’ll take them. One by one, you’ll lose everything you hold so close to you.

A terrified Wendy swam behind his eyelids, knocked from her father’s fishing boat into the sea, his arm outstretched but grasping air where she had been moments before. Her father’s booming voice laced with a terror he wasn’t sure he’d ever heard in real life as he tried to find her in the waves. Soos dragged out by an undertow from the shore, swept away within the blink of an eye before he could help him. He could hear wailing in the distance, heart shattering as he remembered promises he’d made long ago to keep him safe, to keep him from forgetting the stories he’d always been told as a child.

You should have just let me free when you had the chance, little light keeper. I might have been kinder. But you always know what you can do to stop all that pain…

The sky darkened as Stan stood frozen on the beach, eyes locked to a small shadowed figure falling from the lighthouse balcony to the crashing waves below. No one else left to care, no one other than him to watch the person give up and give in to the creature.

You can’t stop anything else, keeper. You can’t stop me, not forever. I’ll never leave, you know. I’ll always be here. Long before you and long after you, I shall still be here. But as long as you are here, I still have someone to play with, something to occupy my time with. Oh, little keeper, all those twisted little thoughts, all those hopeless nights, every time you close your eyes and think about what could have been or what might still be – you let me in. And I’ll never stop, you can’t help but let me in. I’ll never leave. Not until you let me out and finish what you started or until you’re rotting down here with me. That’s the only choice you have. Whether or not you’re around to see me take back my rightful place, that’s the only power you have. So choose little keeper, choose whether you have it in you to keep fighting. Because watching you run around in circles has amused me for all this time, I’d love to keep watching you dance for the rest of your miserable little existence.

“Stop it. You can’t do anything! You’re stuck down there, stuck as long as that light stays out!” Stan roared into the air, the clouds darkening across the sky as the wind tugged at his hair, at his clothes, making him squint as the moon was finally covered and a cackling laugh filled the darkness.

Then rot in that lighthouse, keeper. Waste away in there making sure I never return. Because once you’re gone, there’ll be someone else to take your place, to become the key and let me out. You can’t win. You never won. You’ll lose, whichever route you choose. But you still must choose.

The light came on in the lighthouse, blinding Stan where he stood, his hand raised up to shield himself.

But even blinded, lights sparking behind his eyelids, he still saw the shadow amongst them. The figure perpetually falling. Over and over again he went, never able to escape his fate, always walking towards his own doom.

Just jump, keeper. Jump and save us all the trouble.

And suddenly he was falling, the sands beneath him shifting and sliding to nothingness and as he blinked the lighthouse came into view above him, quickly becoming smaller and smaller as his hand reached out to the railing he hadn’t even tried to hold on to.

The cackling was all that he could hear, vibrating through his entire body in a painful heave of sound that made it impossible for him to move. The wind tore into him, ice cold and sharp as if he was falling through the shattered remnants of the glass panes above.

Shh…

Stan blinked past the pain, another voice entering the fray, a soft warmth dampening the cold, melting the ice until the sharpness vanished and the cold soaked into him instead of tearing him to ribbons.

He felt heavy, heavy and sluggish but there was something there, a spark of something else. He could feel something heavy in his arms, a hint of a memory as he dragged his brother from the depths and the pair of them broke the surface.

The cackling died, a lilt of confusion taking over as Stan looked back up, his brother’s hand reaching out to him, face panic-stricken from the top of the lighthouse as he fell.

And Stan’s resolve stopped wavering, the beat of his own pulse steadying beneath his skin as his eyes hardened.

No! We beat you! I beat you!

Stan landed with a thud, jolting to sit up as the blankets fell around him. His brother clutched tightly to his arm as he tried to take deep breaths, keeping as still as possible as he waited for the fear to pass.

He froze as the hand patted him, an apology stuck uselessly on his lips as he caught his brother’s concerned frown, his eyes still tightly shut.

“Shh…”

He couldn’t help the bubble of a laugh that left him as he realised that Ford was still mostly asleep, if not completely, his arm patting his arm haphazardly and lethargically as the comforting mumbles became a slur of words Stan couldn’t actually make out.

Stan ran a hand through his hair, watching the frown smooth out at the action. “Hey, it’s OK, Ford. Just a dream, go back to sleep. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

Doesn’t he?

Stan tilted his head to the side, a violent burst of irritation needing to be dampened before he screamed and woke them all up. He shuffled from his space, slowly guiding Ford to lay down properly with the twins resting on his chest. He tucked them all in with some semblance of a smile, pushing the thoughts away as he let their steady sleep centre him. “Just a dream. Just the remnants of a dream. That things not real, just a nightmare. Only ever been a nightmare and will always be just a nightmare.”

Oh? Is that all I am? You’re sure of that?

“Yep.” Stan glared at nothing as he straightened up. “Nothing to worry about. After all that, I actually did manage to fall asleep, who’d have thought it? Pity my brain’s such a horrid space to be stuck in though.” The voice started to ebb away, a hiss of irritation sparking something hot and viciously victorious in him as the heat of his reckless nonchalance forced the cloying cold from his shoulders. “Just my head. Always was my weakness, my brains not good for anything, never has been.”

Maybe you should get rid of it then. Stop thinking altogether.

“Now you stop that.” Stan chided himself, ignoring the growl as he focused on the intrusive thoughts. “You’ve got Ford back, your family is all together and things are going right. You’ve just got to find a distraction for the night and deal with Mabel’s scolding in the morning.” Another affectionate bubble of warmth filled his chest at the thought of the small girl, the darkness lifting just that bit further from his surroundings. “Yup, gonna have to deal with that in the morning, but better that than being stuck in there with you, wayward thoughts.”

Even with no one around to talk to, filling the air with his own words seemed to help keep everything at bay. Point out the good, keep talking over any voice that tried to strike up a conversation, push past every small sharp scratch of worry, every icy shiver of self-doubt that he was wrong.

He always was a gambler, and his reckless abandon had always made it so hard to throw in the towel when the stakes were high and the reward was higher.

Even so, he knew it would only last for so long. He could only keep chattering quietly to himself for so long before someone woke up, and he couldn’t have that. There was only so long he could keep up the mantra anyway without something to occupy himself before the looming darkness engulfed him again. It wouldn’t take long, he’d slip up, falter and the thoughts would crowd in again.

The nights were always the worst.

When everyone else was asleep and he was left to his own devices.

His eyes found the lighthouse through the window he was pacing beside, his feet pausing as he weighed up his options.

The voices had always been the loudest up there.

But it had also been the place where he had gotten the most done, his purpose tied tight to its timeless structure.

Each night he had ignored the voices, held on to the ones that were important and thrown himself into work, thrown himself into the distraction that the manual labour gave his hands.

The image of a small figure falling, superimposed itself onto the view before him.

He glanced back to his family, sleeping safe and sound behind him. He could go back, could try and sleep even if it was a fruitless endeavour. Or he could go up to the lighthouse, get back to work and see where it took him. See if it was his salvation or his downfall.

He could just try and sleep, do the normal thing and pretend his nightmares hadn’t happened. Or even wake his brother, ask for comfort, let him help him, but that made it real. That made the creature real.

He looked again towards his family, peaceful and resting, his brother finally sleeping which Stan had been trying to get him to do since he’d got him back. A wave of guilt at even thinking about waking him slid across him for a moment as he pushed the half formed idea away before it could take root.

He stood back up straight, turning towards the door.

…He always had been a gambler.

The gloom outside was ominous at best.

Pinpricks fizzled down his back, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end as he walked with purposeful strides down the path, his footfalls heavy and loud to counteract the multitude of noises that crept up on him through the shadows of the trees.

He shook himself, refusing to take his eyes off the path and the door ahead.

After all, he’d done this trip before, multiple times. Up and down he’d traced a path through the gravel, an indent forming from his continuous efforts.

It didn’t matter what lurked in the darkness, only that he didn’t give it power.

It had always been that way, and in an odd twisted notion it was almost comforting. The same old path, the same old monsters lurking just out of sight, dancing and scrabbling for attention on his peripheral, against the new fears and worries that had been consuming his time and thoughts recently.

His shoulders lost their tenseness, his back straightening as he held his head high.

You’ve never scared me before, you won’t scare me now.

He wasn’t sure if he heard a cackle or just thought about it but either way he chalked it up to the wind rustling through the trees and continued ever onwards on his path.

Just the wind, just the waves. Just animals in the trees or off the path where you can’t see them. Just normal everyday- every night? Life taking place around you as usual.

Just the things that are always out there on the edge of your vision waiting for you to let them in-

A twig cracked behind him, muted by the stillness, but there just in hearing distance. He ignored it, refusing to let the creatures get the best of him. He wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of being spooked, jumping at every sound or cringing at every movement-

A crunch of gravel behind him made his feet slow, his movements hesitant even as he plunged forward regardless. That had never happened before, the sounds were always in the trees, always in the rustle of the leaves and in the sway of the grass. Always something he could brush away with a small mantra of a thought.

Just the wind, just the waves. Just a woodland creature that got a bit close to you before realising and is now scampering away quickly-

The gravel crunched again, and then again. Soft feet falling into step behind him and making his hackles rise as the sound refused to falter, refused to vanish where he could pretend he’d never heard it to begin with.

OK, that’s not the wind. That’s not the waves. That’s something tangible.

His eyes glinted in the darkness as another twig snapped, much closer and most definitely on the path behind him.

If it’s tangible, it’s punchable.

And with that, with the gunshot of a crack that was the twig crunching under something’s foot, he spun around on the balls of his feet. The small torch that he had brought with him caught on the figure behind him, his other hand raised ready in warning for whatever it was to take another step closer. “Alright, whatever you are-”

He froze, his brother’s shocked and confused pale face lit up in the darkness. “Sixer?”

“I- uhh- uhm-”

Stan blinked a few more times at him, the frazzled deer in headlights look taking the thunder out of his movements, visibly deflating as he relaxed. He rubbed a hand at his chest, his heart trying its damnedest to beat completely out of his ribcage by the feel of it as he tried to calm himself.

You really are scared of your own shadow, aren’t you? Just your silly brother trying to be sneaky.

“What on earth are you doing out here, Sixer?”

“I- uhh- I could ask you the same question?”

Stan huffed, shaking his head as Ford tried to take control of the situation, still looking shame-faced at least, at being caught red handed following his brother. “Uh-huh?”

Ford’s hands that had been up placatingly, finally dropped to his sides as he stood up straight. “Alright, I was worried. I mean one second I was falling asleep on the sofa with my family and the next my brother’s pacing a hole in the carpet and muttering to himself before walking out of the house in the middle of the night.”

Stan winced, eyes closing apologetically, though he still heard with a painful spike of guilt, the tut of hurt disapproval at his flinching actions. “Sorry, sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“No, that’s- that’s not what I meant, Stan.” Ford sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You worried me, I wanted to make sure you were OK.”

“I’m fine, just couldn’t sleep. You should go back to sleep, the kids will worry if we’re both not there when they wake up.”

“Stan. Don’t do this.”

“Don’t do what?” Stan felt his hackles raise for a completely different reason, drawing back towards the lighthouse without thought.

“This! Closing off! Not letting me help!” Ford huffed, hand still tugging at his hair. “I thought we’d got it into both our heads that we need to communicate?”

“We did but- you were asleep! And I’m fine.”

“Yes, of course, because leaving the house in the middle of the night without telling anyone whilst muttering that you’re ‘not good for anything’ to yourself is the definition of fine.”

“Actually it was that my brain’s not good for anything.”

“Because that’s in some way better?” The words came out in an exasperated sigh that had Stan blinking and at least pausing for thought. Ford shook his head fondly, hoping his words had gotten through to him. “So, I’ll ask again… what are you doing, Stan?”

“I’m… going to work?”

“To work?”

Stan shrugged, rubbing at the back of his neck sheepishly. “I-I dunno. I can’t sleep and I thought the lighthouse would help.”

“But-”

“But I’ve already got you back? I know that. I just- it’s been part of my routine for so long now, it’s hard to not just feel the need to go up there.” Stan bit down on the nightmare, bit down on blurting out about the voice.

Ford didn’t need to know all that, saying it out-loud made it real.

None of it was real.

“Stan.” The voice was appeasing now, filled with well-meant comfort and logic. “You know that that light can’t come back on. That going up there now could- well- you might-”

And with that, something snapped slightly, Stan’s eyes hardening and stopping Ford’s words in his tracks.

“Of course I know that. I’m not trying to get the light on tonight. Why would I do that? I’ve got you back from that- there’s no need to put the light on, ever again.” Stan sniffed, as if offended that Ford could even imply that he was trying to do that.

“Then, why-”

“I need to figure out how to make sure that the light never comes on again, of course.” Stan let out a bark of hollow laughter. “I mean, it only took thirty years to get it to come on properly, how hard can it be to make sure it doesn’t do that again, huh?”

“Stan…”

Stan sighed, eyes finding Ford’s worried expression again. “Look, I just- I need to do something, OK?”

“Then rest, Stan. Sleep. Isn’t that what you keep telling me to do? It’s like 1am, bro…” Ford’s words fizzled out at Stan’s expression, as he seemed to gulp past something stuck in his throat.

“I can’t.” Stan shrugged, trying to smile but failing. “I just can’t, I need something to do.”

“…You know Mabel’s going to tell us off in the morning.”

“Us?”

“Well yeah, not about to let you spend the night up there alone.” Ford frowned distastefully at the lighthouse, the thoughts of the other wisps that tapped on the glass filling him with unease and the resolve to ignore all and any arguments Stan put forward.

Stan seemed ready to dispute with him as well, opening and closing his mouth a few times, but only for a moment before settling instead for a soft grateful smile. “You sure? You can go back to sleep, Sixer. I promise I’m fine.”

“I know you are. Doesn’t mean I don’t think it’d be nice to spend the evening talking up there while you work. I bet it’s peaceful up there.” Ford tripped over his words, not wanting to break the tentative thread that had been mustered between them, not wanting Stan to push him to leave him be.

“Hey, vs those two whirlwinds everywhere is peaceful once they’re asleep.” Stan scrutinised his brother, a small cheeky grin sliding on to his face now that the worries and doubts seemed to have lifted. “So, were you trying to sneak after me? Because you- uhh, kind of failed there.”

Ford flushed, embarrassment overflowing as he looked down at his feet in annoyance. “I mean, I’m sure I’ve been a lot quieter on this path before. I’ve followed you a few times over the years.”

“Uh-huh?”

Ford huffed, scowling at Stan and then back down at his feet as his arms crossed. “I have! And you never noticed before!”

Stan snorted at the expression. “Wow, you really are a fish out of water, aren’t you? Not used to your legs anymore.” He waited a beat as Ford continued to glare at his own feet in irritation, eyebrow raised before he saw a small dawning look of realisation on Ford’s face and used that moment to turn away, grinning smugly.

“Did you just-”

“Waste a perfectly good joke on my oblivious brother? No, not at all. Come on, Casper, I’m going in now and I don’t want you thinking you can walk through doors as well as silently follow people about.”

“Not this again- who or what is Casper?!”

There was a companionable atmosphere a while later, warm and inviting even with the thick glass walls around them trying to leech the heat away. It had started off with some chattering, some banter back and forth, all the way up the stairs and onwards as Stan settled into his familiar routine with ease. It had been a comfort, Stan's voice and the glow of his lantern ahead of him as they traversed the small, winding stairs. Ford almost hoped his brother didn't notice the hitch in his breath when the door closed, nor how he shuffled closer as the world was shut out behind them. Hoped he couldn’t see how the gloom felt like a solid wall against his back, couldn’t feel the sudden tense atmosphere as the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end and his mind cast images of glowing eyes burning holes into the back of his skull just waiting for him to turn around.

The darkness had taken on a new sharper edge since he had returned home, much like the cold seemed to seep in that much faster, all the way to his core. On more than one occasion Dipper had jokingly scolded him for falling asleep while reading, making the logical assumption for the lamp beside his bed still being on as the sun rose in the morning. He had stuttered out an excuse, shamefaced and disappointed in himself when Dipper had teased that he’d have to take it away if he didn’t get enough sleep, almost promising himself that he’d stop needing it soon. But the next night was always the same. A childish fear turned into a shockingly painful reality that he couldn’t escape from. A fear he hated to admit still existed and had intensified, blooming ice cold and deadly in his dreams that spoke of never having escaped the abyss.

His hopes seemed to go unheeded though, even if Stan didn't say a word. The lantern managed to find its way much closer to his perch than Ford thought was strictly necessary, even if he was eternally grateful for the gesture, especially when Stan started to squint at his writing in the gloom across from him.

As much as his brain warred over Stan straining himself, the light helped ease the tightness around his heart that had begun when his brother had vanished into the night and had grown exponentially as he tried to follow him along the almost pitch black path. Ford settled on the floor as his brother worked, his pottering away and the flickering warm light making his eyelids heavy as the rhythm of his actions sent him into a tranquil daze. A jacket was thrown over him at some point, an item of contention when the motion woke him up and he tried to give it back to no avail, the light getting a similar rebuttal when he tried to shuffle it further away from him and was promptly placed back in its original spot.

So for a while at the very least he had tried to wake up properly, to rekindle that conversation they had had the last time he had been up here, when he had thought it was his last time seeing his brother and he had wanted to make the most of it. This time it was obvious that something had happened, that Stan wanted to distract himself and take his mind off of other things and Ford was happy to oblige. He brought up old memories, little bits and pieces to make his brother chuckle. He even brought up a few things from when they had been apart, silly nonsensical things that had happened at college or once he’d moved here to get Stan asking questions, always intrigued about the parts of his life that he had missed.

He tried to coax the same from Stan, though it was a lot harder. Some things that Stan found to be amusing, gave a shrug and said were an average day, left a vaguely bitter taste in Ford’s mouth. Luckily there were other times though that he couldn’t seem to stop laughing as his brother spun a tale about finding a new attraction for the Shack on the beach which turned out to be a bit more lively than he had first anticipated.

But soon, Ford tired. He’d been asleep when Stan had jolted from his dreams, half asleep still when he heard the door snap shut and he’d suddenly noticed the cold spot where his brother had been and connected the dots to the muttering shadow that had been pacing the space before him as his mind clicked slowly back into place. And so again, he found his eyelids drooping as Stan continued to talk, for his own sake or Ford’s, he couldn’t quite tell but either way it was comforting to hear his voice, to see that soft smile on his face as he worked at a particularly annoying panel in the lighthouse that Ford knew for a fact had always irritated him.

And so with his own soft smile in place, he tugged the jacket tighter around him and tried to blink the tiredness away. “You always did turn that screw the wrong way.”

Stan huffed, good-humouredly. “Yeah, yeah, like you could do any bet…ter…”

The steady squeaking of metal paused, Stan’s voice dissipating into the night sky around them at the same moment. Ford frowned, eyes opening as silence took over, tension prickling at his skin and making him shudder. “Stan? Is something wrong?”

“You’ve said that before.”

Ford nodded without thought, brain still fogged with sleep as he tried to sit up straight and yawned. “I have, many times. Lots of times, I’ve watched you tackle that-” Another yawn took over as he scrubbed at his eye half-heartedly. “-particular screw many times. You always were stubborn, why didn’t you give up on it?”

“Cause, you never know…”

Ford’s frown deepened as Stan seemed at a loss for words, he blinked a few more times until he could focus in on his brother and abruptly he was wide awake, pushing up from his position to move over quickly. Stan’s face was almost distraught, a myriad of emotions filtering over in quick succession- relief, pain, distress, acceptance- all fluttering like something had suddenly changed and Ford had no idea what. “Stan? Stan, what is it?”

“You said earlier that you had followed me down that path before.”

Ford stared at him, settling a lot closer now, not touching but there if Stan needed him. He felt self-conscious suddenly as Stan watched him like a hawk, waiting for an answer. “Because I have. I followed you a few times, once the light was out and you went back home for your day job, I could stay here for just a bit longer, only ever observing.” His face turned bitter as his hand crept forward, tightening with a relieved sigh on Stan’s. “It’s… good to be able to feel again, for you to hear me again-”

“You don’t understand, Ford. I heard you, I heard you and I thought-”

“You heard me.” Ford’s words cut Stan off this time, silencing him as it was his turn to appraise him. There was a lightness to him as he went, a small happy thrill that he had been correct, that Stan had been listening and responding in a roundabout way. There was only one night that he had been optimistic Stan could hear him, was sure he was answering him but then again, until now he’d forgotten most of the conversation to really analyse it. “You could actually hear me! I was always so hopeful that you could…” Stan’s face was dark, still staring downwards and it made his heart sink. “What’s wrong? Is that a bad thing?”

“Hmm? No, I guess not.” Stan shook himself, his mouth tweaking into an offset smile that wouldn’t stick. “I mean- I guess I wasn’t hearing things, that’s always a plus, am I right?” He gave a small high pitched chuckle that set Ford’s teeth on edge. “There were a lot of nights where I thought I’d lost it entirely, talking to things that weren’t there.”

His words drifted as his eyes unfocused. Ford held his breath, not wanting to break the moment and for his brother to clam up again.

The words however, made his lungs ice over, convinced that a mist of frost would speckle out when he let out his next shaky breath.

“I didn’t want to… No, I wanted to believe but… If I believed in one voice I had to believe in them all.”

His brother had been able to hear the wisps too. The ones that tapped and sang, sharp hissing venom mixed with pleading words.

Join us… stay with us… you’ll never win, come, come to us…

“Stan…” The word came out in a choke, a painful bitter tang behind it that had Stan snapping out of his reverie in a panic. Ford obviously wasn’t meant to hear any of that, but when their eyes locked Stan knew as well as Ford did that they both knew exactly what voices had plagued him.

“S-sorry, forgot you were there for a minute.” Stan sat up again, the entire reminiscence seeming falling like water from his back but there was something there still, something that made Ford open his mouth to keep the conversation going but Stan beat him to it. “I- I can’t really explain it, it’s all muddled. I wanted it to be real so much that I was sure I was dreaming up your voice- I mean you even told me you were proud of me! That I was accomplishing more than you ever had, that had to be me…” He petered off as Ford stared at him, obviously trying to convey the truth. “Really? You- I… I guess you have proved that with our recent conversations, I just never thought I’d actually hear it…”

“Well, you did, Stan. I never got this lit.” Ford tapped the lantern with his knuckles, the metal ringing in protest. “Not once, in 5 years and on your first night here, boom.” He spread all his fingers, arms gesturing widely as he did so. “And then time and time again after that you got it working, maybe not all the way but still, there was nothing when I tried, not even a spark.” He shook his head, the voices far more pressing a conversation in his mind. “Anyway, back to-”

Ford would have been irritated at the amount of times Stan interrupted him and made him lose his train of thought if it wasn’t for the deep seated regret that pulsed through him at Stan’s next words.

“That means you actually said that too…” Stan’s baleful eyes locked him in place, freezing every muscle in him as shame bubbled up thick and fast. He didn’t know what he’d done but the distress in Stan’s eyes physically wounded him, the tears ready to spill forth a stab to his heart. “You said… you told me to stop. You told me it would have been better if you’d…” The words choked in Stan’s mouth as if the mere thought of them was too much.

I’m sorry, Stan, you’ve been doing such a good job but now… now it’s time to rest. Time to stop. You have a life to live. It’s- it’s…

It’s time to grieve.

That was right. That night. The night Stan had responded, had told him to stop talking. Had pushed him away as another one of ‘the voices’. His heart sank into his stomach as he sat there, Stan still chattering away before him and cutting him with each rambling half thought.

“I mean, night after night you were there encouraging me, I thought it was all too good to be true. And then suddenly one night you changed your tune, it was like you tore me apart. Thirty years and you were suddenly telling me to give up, to let you go- to stop caring.” The words came out in a torrent. “Was it really you? Both times?” Ford nodded on autopilot and Stan choked. “How?! How could you tell me to stop searching for you?”

“I-I didn’t think you could get me out without bringing that creature out too. You- you were doing exactly what he wanted.”

“Yeah? Well, you thought wrong, didn’t you? Just like he did.” Stan snapped, scrubbing at his eyes in quick stuttering movements, trying to stop any tears before they had a chance to escape. “The both of you, the both of you thought I couldn’t do it, and look at where we are now.”

“Stan- please, I’m… I’m glad you ignored me, I’m glad you carried on and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for that night. You-” Ford stuttered to a halt, the night in question making him shake as he remembered Stan’s listless expression, his pale tired complexion.

“Then what’s the point? No use to anyone…”

“You… really scared me that night.”

Stan went quiet at the fearful confession, eyes widening as he remembered the moment when he had crumbled, had lost all hope. His voice turned gruff as he turned away. “Yeah well, that kind of happens when your guide does a 180 turn and tells you ‘everything you’ve done was for nothing’.”

Ford winced. “I am sorry. Honestly. I just- I wanted you to live, Stan. And you couldn’t do that still looking for me. You’d already wasted so many years-”

“Wasted? You think I wasted them?”

“No! Not, not now.” Ford groaned, scrubbing at his face, any thoughts of sleep well and truly trodden into the mud. “Stan, stop twisting everything I say! Of course I’m grateful, I’m so glad that it all worked out. I can’t believe what you achieved- what you did to get me home. It was an amazing feat and I’m sorry I doubted you.”

The outburst was met with silence, Ford sagging under the sudden flare of emotion as guilt swirled around them both.

“Y-you… you said goodbye, Sixer.”

Ford’s eyes closed, another sharp pain lancing through him as he realised just what he had done in those moments. He’d never regret them if Stan had listened, if Stan had stopped and gone about his life without him, he’d never have begrudged him that. But if something worse had happened because of his words…

He’d never have forgiven himself.

And in hindsight, it would never have deterred his brother, if anything there was a sharp tang of remorse settling in his throat at what he would have done if it was the other way around, how betrayed he would have felt if Stan had told him to give up and leave him down in the water.

If it was Stan that had said goodbye to him, had vanished from sight and willingly sacrificed himself to the waves.

…Ford would never have forgiven him.

Before he could think of anything to say however, there were suddenly arms encasing him, tugging him over full body into a warm chest that shook with sobs that he wasn’t allowed to see.

“Don’t- don’t you dare. I get it, I get why you did it as much as I hate that you did it. But don’t. Don’t you ever, ever say goodbye to me like that again, do you hear me?”

Ford burrowed into the warmth, arms encircling Stan to pull him tighter and rub at his back. “OK, OK, I promise.”

“And don’t ever even think about telling me to give up on you again, because I can’t- I can’t-” Stan’s words stuttered to a halt again, a small shushing from Ford just enough to get him back on track. “Just- don’t, OK? Don’t tell me to give up on you or stop trying because I’ll always be there to protect you. You and the kids and Soos and Wendy and- everyone else. And I need to do that, I need to know I can protect you all and the thought of you telling me not to and to let you go-”

“Shh, OK, Stan, I get it. I’m sorry.” Ford bit his tongue from the words he wanted to spill. He knew that this wasn’t just about what he’d said, that something had happened that had made Stan worry, had made him fear that something would happen again and he wouldn’t be able to stop it and he’d blame himself. “As long as you’ll always be there to protect us, I won’t say a word about you giving up or leaving me behind or anything like that again.” He pulled away hesitantly, trying to catch Stan’s eye. “Wherever we go, we go together, right?”

Stan shook for a second more, his face scrunching up as he rubbed at his eye with a nod. “Y-yeah. Wherever we go, we go together. You better remember that, Sixer.”

“Always.”

There was silence for a moment as both of them took stock of themselves, stitched themselves back together after another emotional conversation. But Ford hoped that it had been another meaningful one, that this was another link in building the bridge that had been lost years ago. There’d be a few bumps, a few twists and turns but he knew that they were both working towards the same goal.

He just hoped he wasn’t about to throw a spanner in that work.

“…Stan?”

“…Yeah?”

The voice was hesitant, perturbed and Ford bit his lip nervously. “I know you don’t want to hear it but part of the reason I asked you to stop was because that… thing, was hanging over you. The creature that had me locked down there, I could sometimes see him whispering to you, slipping into your head whilst you slept. He even impersonated me at times.”

He waited quietly as Stan blinked at him as if struggling to remember a specific voice. He wanted to bring them all up, bring up the wisps that flowed through the fog at the windowpane and whistled through the air like a vengeful breeze. But there was only so much that could be brought up in one conversation before they were both too emotionally drained.

These things took time, he wouldn’t rush him.

But he needed to know what that thing had told him.

“I mean…”

Ford sat up straight as Stan’s face wavered, he could tell there was more there than he wanted to say but he tried to be patient, to see where he went with his words.

“I heard other voices, I just assumed they were all in my head, including yours.”

Ford nodded, trying not to wince as icy shivers fluttered down his back at the sinking weight that Stan was used to voices like the wisps, that they weren’t so foreign that he knew they weren’t his own.

“But none of them mattered, because even- heh- even when I didn’t believe in it, yours was the only voice I paid attention to.”

“He used my voice too.” Ford gestured around helplessly, trying to remember exactly what was said as Stan looked on at him disbelievingly. “He- he asked you for help with my voice. Begged, pleaded with you in a panic.”

“Come on, Sixer, you think I wouldn’t know when something was impersonating you?”

Ford closed his eyes at the question. He knew the answer to it, knew that it might as well have been a recording, but his throat was closing up as he tried to answer. Water was sliding down his throat in a torrent as he found himself locked at the bottom of the ocean as its weight crushed into him and only bubbles of fear fled out of his mouth instead of the scream that wanted to erupt.

“Whoa! Whoa, Sixer, you’ve gone as white as a sheet!”

“H-he…” Ford gulped, opening his eyes, tearing himself out of the dark abyss and back into the warmly lit room with his brother’s even warmer hand grasping his to keep him afloat. “He… I can’t-”

“Hey, shh, it’s OK. You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.” Stan shushed him, his thumb moving in small circles on the back of his hand and dragging him further and further from the sea.

“I need to-” Ford took a deep breath, marvelling at the lungful of air before shakily letting it out again. “I can’t explain but- I did panic, but it wasn’t when the light was on. He wanted you to work faster so he… produced an incentive and used it more than once to his advantage.”

Stan’s eyes sparked with fury as the words sunk in, a fire igniting in them before he took a deep breath himself and seemed to physically shrug it from his shoulders. His face was grim but set with a determination that Ford couldn’t yet muster himself. “Well, as much as I really, really want to drag that creature from the depths and beat it back into oblivion- we won, Sixer. We won and that thing is never going to hurt you ever again.”

Ford nodded, though he couldn’t quite bring himself to look up, the rows of jagged teeth and glistening bulbous eyes still too fresh in his mind’s eye to want to look up at the ceiling of the lantern room. “Y-yes, of course.” He shook himself, rubbing under his glasses as he tried to focus. “That- that wasn’t the point, anyway. The point was that he has spoken to you, on more than one occasion. Sometimes he pretended to be me, but other times, I don’t think he did.” He turned back to his brother, still tightly holding his hand as the concern shifted between them and now Stan looked self-conscious. “He whispered to you while you slept and you’d wake up in such a panic. What did he say, Stan? What did he do in your dreams?”

Stan bit his lip for a second, his eyes glazing as if he was far away before he shook it all off, his face once again a thin sour line of, what Ford could only place as, determined denial. “Honestly? If he was talking to me in my dreams or whatever, then… I never knew, I never noticed anything different.” Ford almost felt the need to raise an eyebrow in disbelief as Stan’s face looked conflicted, as if even he wasn’t so sure anymore in his conviction. “OK, maybe not at the time, whereas thinking back now in hindsight… but really, there’s nothing he could have said that I hadn’t already thought myself on a number of occasions- heck, most were probably things I’d thought before I even got here!”

Ford shook his head, watching Stan visibly deflate at his response. “No, there has to be more to it than that. Are you sure? Are you sure he wasn’t making things worse? This creature feeds off of fear, Stan. It makes him stronger, and with you up here trying your best to get me back I’m sure he had a lot of ways to make you scared-”

“All the more reason we should stop having this conversation. I already said it, right? We. Won.”

“Stan…”

“Alright.” Stan barked, Ford’s mouth shutting with a snap as his brother continued in a torrent of words that he couldn’t quite seem to stop. “If he was talking to me, he sounded an awful lot like the voice in my head does anyway. So I don’t know! I don’t know if he was rooting around in here for whatever reason, all I know is that if he was… I never noticed. It didn’t sound any different.”

“Oh. Oh, Stan…”

Stan winced at the pain laced whisper that left Ford’s lips as if he’d punched him in the stomach. He ran a hand through his hair, the guilt across his face evident to Ford for a mere second before he turned his back on him.

“Can we… can we just stop talking about this now? You keep saying that thing feeds on fear and recognition and quite frankly the quicker we forget about it, the better.”

Ford opened his mouth to argue, but when Stan turned back to him the words died on his tongue. He looked exhausted suddenly, as if the act of telling him hadn’t unburdened him but left him feeling even more weighed down by his own swirling thoughts. He gulped, hoping he hadn’t opened the floodgates of self-loathing and instead gripped Stan’s hand that was still in his, giving it another squeeze as he mused over what to say next.

It only really took a few moments to realise what he really needed to ask in that moment.

“If… if that voice starts up again- not the creature’s!” He put his hand up as Stan looked ready to snarl at him. “If your inner voice starts… to get like that again, you’ll come talk to me, won’t you? I want to help you.”

The snarl left Stan’s face, melting into wide eyed shock for a second before a bubble of laughter escaped him much to Ford’s surprise. “Yeah, alright. I’ll do that.”

“Stan.” Ford put as much authority into that word as he felt was possible, for some reason hearing their mother in the tone as Stan cringed slightly.

“Come on, Sixer. I can’t come to you whenever my thoughts turn sour- that’d be more often than not.”

“…All the more reason to.” Ford bit back on the sad pained noise that had threatened to come out at Stan’s words, instead choosing to go with what his heart said was the best thing to say as Stan looked on lost. “Stan, you- you’re amazing and you don’t seem to see it. I need you to see that. You took on an eldritch horror and won. We didn’t win- you won.” Ford pulled him close, still talking as Stan sat frozen in his arms. “But none of that even matters, you matter, whether or not you did that, whether or not you got me back, you deserved a good life-” The noise of disagreement fuelled Ford ever onwards. “No, Stan, you did. The kids love you for who you are. And-” He growled, feeling Stan shake his head against his shoulder.

He couldn’t get through to him.

And suddenly it clicked, his entire body freezing for a second before relaxing as he pulled his brother even tighter around him.

“All you wanted to do was keep me safe, you never gave up on me. You just made me promise to never ask you to give up on me again, didn’t you?” Ford felt the hesitation, the quick nod that was almost a question as to where this was going. He smiled, resting his head on top of Stan’s. “Then, don’t ask me to give up on you. ‘Cause I won’t, I’m going to be here whenever you need me, no matter what from now on. We’re going to look after each other, but I can only do that if you let me.”

Stan locked up, pulling away slightly to scrutinise Ford’s expression, as if still doubtful before he burrowed back into his embrace, his arms finally moving to wrap around him in return and Ford gave a relieved sigh at the motion.

“I’ll try to talk to you more. If the voice gets too much, I’ll come talk to you.”

“That’s all I ask, Stan.” Ford gave him a pat on the back, closing his eyes as his breathing evened out. “If you ever need me, I’m right here, I don’t care how insignificant you think it might be or not worth telling me, know that I’m always here to listen.” He hummed thoughtfully as the words made him think of another time, tapping at Stan’s back to get him to look him in the eye. “If I’m honest, I’m pretty sure our lack of communication got us into quite a lot of our troubles as kids… so how about we both promise to do our best to communicate from now on? No more secrets, no more not telling the other what’s bothering us.”

Stan snorted, nodding. “Hey, I think we’re doing well. How many heart to hearts have we had since you’ve been back? I feel like we’ve had more in the last week or so than we’ve ever had before combined.”

Ford huffed out a bark of laughter back. “True. We’re doing a lot better than we ever did before.” He leant in conspiratorially even though it was only them in the vicinity. “Let’s keep that up.”

“Deal.” Stan nodded, pulling away. “But for now, can we please stop being sappy?”

Ford couldn’t help but continue to laugh as Stan shuffled away from him. “OK, OK, for now we can stop.”

“Thank God for that.” Stan dropped his hand and stood up with a stretch.

Before he could do much else though, his thoughts already back to the work he had been doing, Ford followed him up, walking past him towards the balcony door.

“Whoa, Casper, where do you think you’re going?”

Ford blinked, frowning for a second at the nickname before brushing it off. “I thought we could both use some fresh air is all. It’s a nice night, the views great-”

Stan’s hand gripped the back of his collar, tugging him back. “Yep, fair but funnily enough Mr ‘I forgot you’d be able to hear me sneaking after you’, I don’t completely trust you to remember that you can’t float about anymore.”

Ford gave an indignant squawk. “I’m fully capable of-”

“Sixer, I know you’re completely capable of moving around now, considering how you chase after the kids but how about we don’t put your legs to the test around that big a drop just yet, hey?”

Ford frowned again, his expression disappointed and hurt in a way that made Stan look away. “Well I guess you’ll have to be there besides me to make sure nothing happens then, won’t you?” He gave a smug grin as Stan sighed, hand reaching for the handle even as the hand in his collar refused to relent.

He felt more than saw Stan rub a hand over his own face, a groan of defeat echoing through the small room.

“Alright, honesty, right? That’s what we’re doing from now on, yeah?”

Ford paused in his fight to be free, turning back to Stan in interest, the change in tone from light-hearted to downtrodden knocking him off kilter. “Yeah?”

Ice found its way through Ford again within an instant, the fight leaving him in one fell swoop.

“Frankly, I don’t trust myself out there either.”

“S-Stan-”

“No, I mean- I don’t mean-” Stan groaned, his hand still pressed over his face as he sighed again. “I meant I’ve already dreamt once tonight of falling over the edge, I’m not really up for going near it right now.”

“…You dreamt of falling off the lighthouse.”

“Yeah?” Stan’s voice grew defensive at Ford’s disbelieving tone, raising an eyebrow as his arms crossed, obviously no longer worried that Ford would make a dash for it. “What’s weird about that?”

“Nothing.” Ford turned fully to him, eyebrow quirking. “What’s strange is that you had that dream and then came up here at all.”

“I… I don’t really have an argument for that.” Stan rubbed at the back of his neck, glancing back at the lantern. “Guess this place always gave me a sense of purpose. It’s a good distraction from nightmares, always has been. I kind of took a gamble.”

“You could have woken me.”

Stan winced, still refusing to look at him. “I mean, I did think about it….” He stood up straight, closing his eyes before taking a deep breath and looking earnestly at his brother.

The ice melted, a flood of warm water making Ford smile softly.

“I’ll- try to talk to you next time instead, yeah? I felt guilty waking you when I always push you to sleep more but… if you really want me to, I’ll wake you next time if I can’t go back to sleep and feel the need to come up here, or make an exhibit in the middle of the night, or something equally as distracting.”

“I’d like that.” Ford patted him on the shoulder before pulling him up beside him at the door. “Don’t worry, I won’t open it. But still, that’s a great view, isn’t it?”

He watched carefully as Stan gave in, relaxing as his eyes scanned the stars and the bright moon, as they flickered to the water now and then before a soft huff escaped him. “Yeah, I guess it is. I stopped taking it in a while back but now I’m not looking for something out there, it really is something, isn’t it?”

Ford grinned, hand wrapped around his brother’s shoulder, glad to have helped in any way he could as his brother settled beside him.

Soon enough they found themselves sitting, side by side, not out on the balcony but still gazing outwards, a soft silence filling the air that was completely companionable when the solid presence of the other was tight to their side.

It was a while later, in amongst the quiet that Ford asked a question that had been plaguing him for a while.

“Hey, Stan? Can I ask you something?”

“Sure, might not answer though.”

“The night that you got me back. When you got the lighthouse working properly… what was different?”

Stan sat silent for a while, so long in fact that Ford almost thought he wouldn’t answer.

“I… I don’t know actually. I was pacing around a lot up here, trying to figure out what to do, but… I did that a lot. That wasn’t anything new. In fact the only thing was-”

Stan’s words cut off, Ford moving to look at his face as a soft small smile wormed its way on to his face. “Stan?”

Stan shook his head, leaning it against Ford’s shoulder as he shrugged. “I was just thinking about… nah, never mind. It wouldn’t have had any bearing on anything.”

“Tell me? Please?”

Stan sat up again with a sigh as Ford nudged his shoulder, scratching at his face in open vulnerability. “I dunno, I guess I was just thinking about the kids? That they were going to leave soon and how much I knew they’d love to meet you.” He glanced at Ford sheepishly, his smile still plastered on his face. “How much I wanted you to meet them before they left because they’re just so-” His hands gestured uselessly, trying his hardest to come up with an all-encompassing word for them.

Ford laughed, nodding along with him. “They really are something.”

“Bright? They’re just so – them.” Stan grumbled under his breath for his lack of eloquence before continuing. “So, anyway, yeah, that’s all that was different. I was up here looking out to sea, thinking about how soon they’d be gone and how much they needed to meet you. I kept thinking about how you’d said goodbye to me and how that couldn’t be the end, I refused to let it end like that because those kids deserved to meet you as much as you deserved to meet them. How nothing else mattered as long as you were safe and sound and you got to know your family like you always should have- and on it came.”

Ford sat quietly for a few moments, letting the words sink in as Stan shifted beside him, filling in the silence himself awkwardly.

“So yeah, when I say we won- I have no idea what caused the light to turn on. I’m just glad something out there likes us enough to give me the chance to get you back, Sixer.”

“You won.” The words came out automatically, but luckily Ford knew how to continue as Stan got ready to dispute it. “From what you just said, I’d say you got me back through force of willpower and determination. And even if I’m wrong, it was still you who dived off a ship and rescued me. It’s still you who did all of that, not some light.”

“… If you say so. I still don’t think it was all me.”

“Well, I’ve got a lot of years ahead of me to make you see sense.”

Stan looked over at him, trying to hold back his hopeful expression. “I’ll drink to you being around from now on, that’s for sure.”

Ford leant back against him, feeling an arm wrap around his shoulder. “Heh, you’ll never get rid of me even if you tried.”

They fell back on to easier conversations, light hearted and warm now from that particular open discussion. The thought of the kids, how the thought of them had driven Stan on, felt like a warm beacon for both of them to latch on to, wondering what the next day would bring once they awoke and dragged them along to the next big adventure.

On that note, Ford found himself drifting once again, only this time he could feel Stan doing the same, both of them slowly becoming more lethargic and unwilling to move with every moment that passed. He knew though that if they weren’t careful though that soon the sun would start to dust the horizon and falling asleep up here would one, do a number on them both muscle wise, and two, scare the kids if they woke up and couldn’t find them in the house.

He struggled upwards, feeling Stan groan beside him but move as well, understanding thick in his every movement even if he refused to open his eyes. Ford shook his head in amusement, eyes skating across the still navy horizon where the sky hit the water and tried to think of something to say that would get them both moving back to at least the sofa where the kids were bundled up, if not to their own beds.

Instead however, in the sleepy haze, his words jumbled into something far off topic that he hadn’t even known whether to ever broach. His eyes followed the crest and fall of the waves, the silver foam derailing his thoughts entirely from the momentum he had been following.

His filter vanished with the lack of sleep, not quite awake until the words were out of his mouth and Stan’s body language changed entirely.

“Hey Stan, would you still like to go sailing together?”

.

AN: 8D I hope this explains a few more bits and pieces ♥ On the final stretch! Stan talking about the kids and how he thought of them when the light came on properly was one of those flaily scenes I’ve been dying to share. 

[pengychan]

The Mind Cage - Epilogue

Title: The Mind Cage Summary: In another world, Stanford Pines places a metal plate in his skull far too soon. In another world, Bill Cipher is in the wrong place at the wrong time. Characters: Bill Cipher, Ford Pines, Stan Pines, Fiddleford McGucket Rating: T COMPLETE. Click here for the first chapter, warnings and links to all chapters up so far.

A/N:  And here’s the epilogue - if you read the Journal, you’ll definitely know which scenario it’s based on! (If you haven’t: it’s from a parallel reality where Stan left with Jornal 1 when told to, Ford reconnected with McGucket and together they made interdimensional travel possible without allowing Bill access to their world. Happy ending for everyone… except Stan, clearly. So I had to fix that.)

***

The Astonishing Anomalies of Gravity Falls

Fiddleford H. McGucket, PhD Stanford F. Pines, PhD

– To Stanley Pines, without whom none of this would have seen the light of day.

Introduction

Nikola Tesla once said that the history of science shows that theories are perishable; with every new truth that is revealed, we get a better understanding of Nature and our conceptions and views are modified.

Much of what is written in this paper defies what most believe to be real; research on the cause of these phenomena is still ongoing. Only by keeping an open mind on the scientific evidence presented in this work, and abandoning all preconceptions…

***

Stan had seen it coming from a mile away.

The not at all subtle mention of ‘ongoing research’ was a first hint, as was Stanford’s decision to wait for McGucket to come pick his car up before publishing the revised thesis paper. ‘To discuss a few matters’, he had said, but Stan knew it wasn’t the paper he wanted to talk about: for that, a phone call would have sufficed. If Stanford wanted to wait for a face-to-face chat, there had to be a lot more going on.

The third big hint wasn’t so much something his brother did, but what he did not do. He got rid of the rather creepy amount of Bill-related stuff he kept in his basement, including a golden statue Stan would have rather melted to keep the gold; everything in any way connected to Bill Cipher had to go, and go it did. Except for the one thing his brother did not dismantle.

So really, when Stan went in the kitchen one night to find the door to the basement open and his brother downstairs, staring in silence at the deactivated portal with his arms behind his back, he was not surprised in the slightest.

“So, lemme guess. You’re thinking of firing up this baby and see what’s beyond.”

His words caused Stanford to wince and turn. He looked amazingly guilty, like he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar - something that had never happened when they were kids, really, because that was usually Stan’s role. And he’d never felt guilty when caught, anyway.

“Stanley, I… I hadn’t realized I had woken you up.”

“You didn’t. I woke up on my own,” Stan said with a shrug, and walked up to stand by his twin’s side. “So. Am I right? Is this what you want to discuss with Nerdy?”

“Yes. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but truth be told I haven’t made up my mind yet. It’s… just an idea.”

“An expensive one, huh?” Stan guessed, and grinned, elbowing his brother’s side. “That’s where the money from the paper is gonna go, huh?”

Stanford’s guilty expression melted into a laugh. “Only my part, no worries. And only if Fiddleford believes what I have in mind to be feasible - only if he agrees. If he says no, then that will be it,” he said, then paused for a moment and turned to Stan. “… What do you say?”

Okay then. Stan hadn’t been surprised to find his brother there, but now he sure was. “Whoa there. Are you telling me that if I say ‘nope, don’t do it’, you’ll just scrap this whole thing?”

“I am,” Stanford said, no hint of humor left in his voice, and Stan knew he meant it.

“… Okay. I ain’t saying no just yet. What’s your idea?”

Stanford turned back to the portal. “This is a gateway to other dimensions, and in a way it feels… wrong to keep their existence hidden from mankind. I would never dare activating it with Cipher still around, but now he’s gone.”

“Yeah, but if Nerdy’s rambles are anything to go by, this thing kinda leads into the tenth circle of Hell.”

“It does, as things are. Cipher tricked me into building this portal so that it would lead into his own dimension - the Nightmare realm. However, I think that a dimensional vortex neutralizer might allow us to entirely bypass it, giving whatever dwells in it no opening to come through and leaving other dimensions accessible for us to explore.”

That sorta made sense, in a very sci-fi sort of way. And really, it sounded like an amazing chance: as kids they had wanted to explore the world, but had always been a little put off by the fact explorers had already been pretty much in every corner of Earth, leaving no unknown waters left to map. But what would it be like, to explore dimensions - and be the first ones to ever do it? Also, getting unbelievably rich and famous in the process would be a nice cherry on top of the cake of awesome.

“Oookay. Let’s say I’m intrigued. Can you build a thing like that? A neutralizer-something?”

Stanford shook his head. “No, not me. If anybody can create something like it, that’s Fiddleford.”

“Looks like we’re gonna have to ask Nerdy, then,” Stan said, then shrugged. “Okay. If he says yes, we go through it together. If he says no, we dismantle this whole thing - wouldn’t even be the first of your inventions I break, huh? - and use the money from the paper to buy, like, a research cruise ship or something. You do the research, I enjoy the cruise.”

The idea made Stanford laugh again. “That sounds tempting,” he admitted, then sobered up. “It might just be what we’ll do. Fiddleford almost lost his sanity to whatever he saw on the other side. I can’t say I truly expect him to agree giving the idea a go.”

Stan shrugged. “Hey, you never know. The guy’s got bigger balls than one would think. I mean, figuratively. Didn’t look myself. Did you?”

Stanford raised an eyebrow. “… Really now?”

“Hey, you were college roommates. Never even got a glimpse?”

“Stanley. He is married.”

“Nope. Was married. Might be your chance, Poindexter.”

Another laugh. “I’ll pretend to have never heard any of this,” he said, turning his back to the portal. “As for the project, I’ll ask next week when he comes for his car. He’s likely to bring his son with him, and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t repeat any of this in front of the child. Or at all. Let’s go back to sleep.”

Stan made a dramatic gesture towards the door. “Ladies first,” he said, earning himself light punch on the arm. He rubbed the spot, watching Stanford walk away, and grinned. Not so much because of the joke, but because he had noticed something most wouldn’t have even thought of.

As he left the basement, Stanford didn’t turn to spare another glance at the portal. It was enough for Stan to be certain that yes, if he or McGucket said no, Stanford would just dismantle the portal and never bring it up again. His brother strived to go forward, as he always had, but no longer all on his own.

Never again all on his own.

***

… The inauguration of the International Institute of Oddology in Gravity Falls, Oregon, is undoubtedly the greatest leap ever made in history - not only proving the existence of worlds outside our own, but even allowing mankind to make contact with them.

“The Dimensional Vortex Neutralizer makes the activation of the portal perfectly safe, but for time being only specialized teams of experts can travel through dimensions for limited amounts of time. We do however have high hopes that, in the future, interdimensional travel will be open to all,” said Dr. Stanford Pines, founder and CEO of the Institute, who took the scientific world by storm last year with the publication of his amazing discoveries.

According to Chief Operating Officer Dr. Fiddleford McGucket, the team has successfully made contact with a dimension known to its inhabitants as Dimension 52 during its latest expedition.

“We documented every step, and are looking forward to share all we’ve gathered in a press conference at the end of the month,” he added.

Both declined to comment allegations that one Stanley Pines, whose title and role in the Institute are still unclear, attempted to sell the Brooklyn Bridge to a seven-eyed alien lady in the course of the expedition. They also denied Mr. Pines’ earlier claims a souvenir shop and guided tours of the Institute are in the works, to the disappointment of local children.

On other news…

***

“Guys! GUYS! I found another door and it’s all brand new! He explored another dimension!”

“Cool! Let’s go now! I want to see it!”

“Wait, let me take my notebook…”

“Who’s got a camera?”

“I’ve got seven!”

“Oh! I want one!”

“No. You’d just finish all the film to take pictures of noses.”

“I wouldn’t! Liam, tell him!”

“… He’s right, actually. You do that all the time, Billy.”

“Hey! That’s not true! I also take pictures of ears! And teeth!”

“C’mon, Stanford, don’t be a stick in the mud! Let him keep a camera and let’s go.”

The new door wasn’t a long distance away; Stanley and Stanford ran all the way to it, while Bill and Liam hovered right behind them. Really, why did they even bother walking and running when they could fly so easily in the Mindscape? Stanford had said something about a ‘force of habit’, and it sounded really boring, a bit like staying in one place all the time.

Because sure, the beach was great and a lot of fun, but it was just so much better to go out and explore all of the new memories that kept popping up… especially the ones of different dimensions. So far they had met a bunch of warrior piglets with octopus arms - Stanford had gotten a really cool tattoo there - then they had found a dimension where it was mandatory to gamble. It had been a lot of fun, until they had caught him and Stanley cheating, so they had to leave really quickly. Stanford and Liam had been really annoyed at them, because they’d been only halfway through taking notes and snapping pictures of everything they could see and now they were pretty much banned from going back in that memory.

Then there had been the other one - a world called Exwhylia that had looked a lot like the Second Dimension - but they hadn’t explored that one. When Billy had found it, one look had been enough decide he would never, ever take Liam there. They would hate him there, just like at home. They would call him Irregular. And they would try to kill him, just like at home.

But it wasn’t really home, was it? Because home is supposed to be a place where you feel welcome, and Liam had never been welcome back there, not at all. No one less than Regular had been.

I’m glad it’s gone, Billy had thought when he had slammed the door shut, and right there and then it hadn’t even mattered that it was probably what the other Bill had felt like, what he had thought after destroying it. Because they deserved to be gone.

I’m glad they’re all gone. But I am here, Liam is here, and we’re free.

“Here! This is it!”

The door Stanley had led them to was made of very dark wood, with a brass plaque on it. Most doors seemed to have one: Stanford Pines’ mind was incredibly well-organized.

Dimension 52.

“What do you think is in here?” Liam asked, floating closer. His eye was wide and almost sparkling, a notebook and a pen already in his hands. Billy thought, not for the first time, that their world just hadn’t deserved him. It hadn’t deserved either of them. “Maybe a new color?”

“Hot alien girls! Or… or the Toffee Peanut Dimension!” Stanley immediately piped in.

“Eldritch abominations!” Stanford exclaimed, holding up a camera. Billy, who was kinda hoping to find a dimension of endless candy or something like it but would also settle for abominations, shrugged and hovered to the door, reaching out to grasp the handle.

“Hey, only one way to find out. Kings of New Jersey?”

“Kings of New Jersey!”

Bill pushed down the handle. The door opened, and they stepped into the unknown.

***

June 2012

Ah, summer break. A time for leisure, recreation, and taking it easy… unless you’re me.

My name is Dipper. The girl about to puke is my sister Mabel. You may be wondering what we’re doing in an interdimensional shuttle-cart, fleeing from a creature of unimaginable horror. Rest assured, there’s a perfectly logical explanation. Let’s rewind.

It all began when our parents finally allowed us to spend the summer at our great uncles’ International Institute of Oddology in Gravity Falls, Oregon…

***

(For the record: in the end, Stan totally wins the argument and there IS a gift shop in the Institute. Soos and Wendy will obviously work there. Because I say so.)

***

[Back to Chapter 14]

[Back to the beginning]

[nataliedanovelist]

GF - Shards of Glass 2/2

After over thirty years, Ma is getting paid a visit, all thanks to the persuasion of a sweater-making, pig-loving teenager. (Here’s part 2, as promised. Hope it lives up to everyone’s expectations!)

@thestanbros

~~~~~~~~~~

Despite it being over forty years since he had been home, Stan found it so easy and so familiar as he walked down the sidewalks with his family that he could probably travel blindfolded. So many times he and Ford had walked down this way for home from the beach, just in time for dinner.

It was sad how much anxiety Stan was having over visiting his own mother, how badly his stomach was turning; he attempted to distract himself by observing his childhood home. The buildings hadn't changed much, except for the interiors. Almost every business that was here in his youth was either replaced or drastically renovated. Except for the Belgian Waffle Store, that place was bustling with people eating a late-breakfast or an early-lunch.

And there it was. Sandwiched between the waffle joint and a new shoe store was the old pawn shop that had been transformed into a comic book store. Mabel grinned and rushed up to the windows, pressing her face against it to get a good look at the displayed comics. "Wow! You should feel right at home, huh Grunkle Stan?"

He snorted a quick laugh. "Bet this place'll make more money now than it ever did for our old man."

Mabel entered with Dipper by his side. The old men lingered but eventually wandered inside. Ford was gently reminded of a comfortable library. Where Pa's shelves of expensive products used to be now had beanbags and a coffee table in its place. A desk stood where his desk once stood, now hosting a young lady with brown hair in a ponytail and she smiled. "Hi! Finding everything okay?"

Mabel hopped on over while Dipper stalled, intrigued by a science-fiction comic book he had heard of but never read. "Hi! I'm Mabel! Is Caryn Pines here?"

The young lady grinned and nodded. "Oh yeah! She's home, just go up these stairs here and knock. Sweet lady, let me and Lindsey room with her for cheaper rent, she's the best roommate anyone could ask for. Friends of her?"

"You could say that," Dipper said easily and started for the stairs, the ones that led to the door for the living room. "C'mon."

Mabel and Dipper entered the closed-in stairwell with the grunkles behind them, halfway through, Ford stopped them. "Wait, kids, maybe… maybe you should say hi to her first."

Mabel turned and gave him a warning look with her hands on her hips. "You're not gonna run away, are you?"

"No, that's not what I had in mind." Ford said, though it didn't sound like a bad idea. "This is a lot to take in, so… maybe we should do this gradually."

Stan nodded. "Yeah, let her say hi to your kids first, okay?"

Dipper and Mabel exchanged looks and then nodded, agreeing that this was a good idea. Mabel then hurried to the door and knocked cheerfully.

"C'min."

Mabel opened the door and grinned at the sight before her. Sitting at her window, though her glowing pink eye long gone, Ma Pines sat with her ankles crossed and some knitting in her hands, still in white heels, but now sporting a red skirt with a white sweater and her long hair, now silver-white, was still up in her bun and she could never say no to her golden earrings and bracelets. Her eyes were just as keen as ever and she held herself up with that same confidence she always had. At the sight of her great-grandchildren, she smiled calmly and said spookily as she sat her knitting aside, "Ah, I've been expectin' choo two."

Mabel gasped with shining eyes. "Really?!"

Ma laughed and waved her little fib away. "Nah, that's just something I used to tell customers." No longer playing pretend, she grinned and opened her arms, "Now c'mere and hug this old lady!"

Mabel had never seen such a beautiful smile. She ran into her arms and hugged her tightly. She smelled like an old lady, maybe too much perfume with a hint of freshly baked bread and… vapor rub? Some sort of lotion? Whatever. Dipper soon joined the hug and Ma's thin arms hugged them tightly. The twins wondered if she would ever let them go, but soon she held them by the shoulders to look at them.

"Look at choo." Ma awed. "Just look at choo… You're both so beautiful. You're both almost adults. Holy Moses, who gave choo two permission to grow up?"

Mabel giggled and squeezed her hand. "It's so good to see you, Ma! We've really missed you!"

"I've missed you, too. Your father doesn't brin' choo down here nearly enough. Speakin' of which, where is Alex? Browsin' the store?"

Dipper rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "Actually, he's still in California with Mom."

"We came here with someone else," Mabel said open-ended.

The older pair of twins, who were listening at the door, exchanged petrified looks, but they knew they couldn't leave their mother waiting any longer. Ford opened the door and they both stepped in silently to allow Ma to react as she saw fit.

Stan pulled off his beanie and held it with both hands while Ford pocketed his hands in his jacket. The old scientist swallowed and looked down at the carpeted floor. His twin did the opposite, his eyes locked on his mother as he took in her appearance and how she had changed. At the same time, she was staring at her sons with a hard expression on her face, both stern and difficult to read.

Ford took in a deep breath and muttered, "Hello, Ma."

Stan cracked a nervous smile and quipped, "You look good." And then he mentally kicked himself. What the hell was that?!

Ma stood and Dipper and Mabel moved aside. Everyone in the room was nervous, except for the old lady, who had a collective atmosphere to her that terrified everyone even more, unsure of how long it would last. When she was only a step or two away from her grown children, Ma said quietly, "So, choo finally decided to come clean?"

The men whose father named them both Stan stared at her in astoundment. "What?" They both gasped.

"Stanley, sweetheart," Ma sighed with a smile and she shook her head. "Choo might pull a great impression of your brother, but I know choo better than that. Even as kids I could always tell the difference. Always." She bit her lip as her eyes filled with tears. "Now, do I get to hug my sons or not?" She croaked with open arms.

Stan's bottom lip trembled and Ford just stared as he realized just how wonderful his mother truly was, and then both grown men quickly embraced her and held her tightly.

"We're so sorry."

"Please forgive us."

"We're so sorry."

"Please forgive us."

"Choo darlin' idiots," Ma said and squeezed them back tightly, as each face was buried in her shoulder and everyone's breathing was much more controlled now. "It's okay."

"Ma, I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

"Stanley…"

"No, I mean it. I should've…"

"I should have done more when I had the chance…"

"Stanford…"

"We're so sorry."

"Please forgive us."

"Hey, hey," Ma was now rubbing circles into their backs. "It's alright. It's alright. I always knew and already forgave choo."

"Why didn't you say anything?" Stan asked.

"I knew choo had your reasons." Ma replied calmly. "I trust my little free spirit."

They heard a sniff come from behind Ma and they all looked at the teenagers to find Mabel scrubbing her eyes with a fist and Dipper rolling his eyes at his sister with a small smile.

"Sweetheart, you're not cryin', are you?" Ma asked lightly.

Mabel shook her head. "N-No…" Her smile unwavering through her white lie.

Ma chuckled and let her boys go. "Well, you two owe me an explanation, and I got a feelin' it's gonna take a while. How 'bout some tea and cookies?"

"Yes, please." Mabel said and followed her great-grandmother into the kitchen to help.

It was like when Ford first came out of the portal all over again. Except this time they were in the warm sunshine, but the cold basement. Except this time they sipped on hot tea and nibbled on old gingersnaps. Except they began the storytelling from when Ford sent the postcard and skipped to when Dipper and Mabel first arrived in Gravity Falls. Except this story had a much happier ending. And the four visiting Pines silently agreed to keep Bill Cipher in the dark and they made it sound like at the end of the summer Ford and Stan rekindled their relationship on their own without needing a mind-wipe to do it.

By the time the sun was setting on the buildings, Ma was wearing Mabel's new purple sweater and she was nodding and satisfied with the tale. Really, when her sons gave it some thought, it was ridiculous to think they could pull the wool over the eyes of not only one of the greatest conmen they have ever known, but their own mother.

Now it was time for Ma to have some fun. When filling her in was over, Mabel gleefully requested, "Tell us embarrassing stuff about our grunkles!"

Ma laughed and stood. "Hold that thought, sweetheart. I have something you'll like…" She went to a bookshelf and pulled out an old black photo album. She opened it and sat next to Mabel, lying the book on her lap. Mabel gasped and grinned to find two newborn babies lying in a crib and sleeping together, wrapped burrito-style in blankets and they had little hats to keep their heads warm.

"AW!"

"Yup, that's when we brought the boys home." Ma laughed as Dipper looked down at the pair of twins in the black-and-white picture. "Choo know, Stanford was born first, but the whole time he was without Stanley he cried his whittle heart out…"

"Ma!"

"What, it's true."

"Since when do you love the truth so much?" Ford asked cheekily and smiled at her playfully.

"Alright, mister, let's see how your niece likes this picture…"

"SAILOR SUITS!" Mabel screamed and her eyes grew to the size of saucers. "Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, OH MY GOSH! You guys were so cute!"

"Oh, this is them getting a bath…"

"MA!"

After half an hour of embarrassing her sons without mercy, Ma gave Mabel the scrapbook only asking that her great-granddaughter take good care of it and use it to blackmail her sons. It was time for the sailors to return to the boat, so she stood at the back door in the neatly-kept alleyway and hugged the kids goodbye. She snuck in a kiss on each of their cheeks before looking at her sons.

Immediately her expression turned cold and she growled, "And if any of choo knuckleheads pull a stunt like that again…"

It didn't matter that the twins were in their sixties; they were just as terrified now as they were in their youth. They nodded in sync and Stan said, "I swear, Ma. And… we'll do a better job staying in touch. I promise."

Ford nodded in agreement and Ma's expression immediately softened. "That's all I want." She said with a smile. "A phone call every so often is all I ask for."

Ford nodded and smiled. "We'll call you. We love you."

"I love you two, babies, c'mere." With one last squeeze and a swift kiss on each of their cheeks, Ford and Stan finally found the strength to let her go.

As they walked down the sidewalk and headed for home, the two pairs of twins looked back and found Ma still standing there and waving them goodbye. They waved in return and turned around for their next adventure.