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mozart-the-meerkitten · 10 months

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Okay everything about a Wingfeather Saga/Phineas and Ferb crossover would be hilarious. And by Wingfeather Saga I mean Wingfeather Falls because it’s even funnier.

Idk even where to start. The Wingfeather kiddos walk through a portal into Phineas and Ferb’s backyard and end up helping with whatever they’re building. Kalmar is in his element with the chaos. Janner is trying desperately to keep track of Perry so he can sketch whatever this new creature is. Leeli’s just chilling, probably hanging out with the Fireside girls and staring at Candace in concern.

Across town Artham and Fiddleford end up at Doofenshmirtz’s evil inc. where Artham discovers that Fidds and Doof know each other because Fiddleford accidentally hacked into an evil villain meeting skype call once and they just... let him keep doing it because I mean he does build giant robots that terrorize a town, has a tragic backstory and an evil laugh so I mean he’s basically one of them, he’s causing chaos it counts. Artham’s just pleased to know that Fiddleford talked to people back in the day.

Perry shows up and Artham and Fidds just fly up into the rafters to watch whatever’s going on. Artham mentions that Janner would love to see a platypus and then when the fight starts he’s like “ah. so this is how Ollister Pembrick did it”

99.9% sure Kalmar has convinced Phineas and Ferb to help him build Shacktron 2.0 which he has always wanted to do ever since Dipper showed him the picture but he never had a house he could do it with. Phineas and Ferb are more than happy to turn their house into a giant robot to help this kid fulfill his dreams. Janner’s questioning Candace over why she keeps trying to bust her brothers and when it basically just comes down to it being a compulsion for her he’s like “wow okay I mean if it was safety I’d get it but, jeeze, Kalmar thinks I’m against fun but you my friend are on another level.” Leeli is composing the episode’s musical number and then promptly directing/performing in it.

Artham flies down in the middle of Perry and Doof’s daily smackdown to give hand-to-hand combat tips. They stop and listen to him and Perry starts taking notes. Artham tells Perry to attack him to demonstrate something and Perry doesn’t land a hit once. No one’s sure why Artham’s good at defending himself from animals except Fiddleford who’s cackling up in the rafters with the knowledge that Artham lived in his world’s most deadly forests for 7ish years.

Cue giant robot walking through town with a gang of kids in it including one overexcited young king. Artham and Fiddleford get to see it right before Doof’s invention inevitably destroys/cancels it out somehow. Kal is very disappointed that he didn’t get to show his uncles this wacky invention but is thrilled when they find out they saw it anyway.

rest is under the cut because this got long

PART TWO is somehow so much more unhinged. It’s literally just Artham deciding to bring his niece and nephews along with him and Fiddleford to visit Doofenshmirtz and absolute chaos descending. Kalmar won’t stop running around pushing buttons and inadvertently setting off lasers and traps which never hit him or any of the kids. Janner is wondering how concerned he should be about safety. Doof is running around trying to stop Kalmar and probably the only one getting hit by lasers and traps. Vanessa is there and so Leeli goes over to chat with her and sees her listening to music and explains her whistleharp, “I once held back an army with this!” “an army?” “yeah! during the siege of Ban Rona. also I can summon dogs with it.” “.... what.” “I can summon dogs!” “what kind of dogs?” “all dogs! do you wanna see?” “...yes”

Leeli and Vanessa go out on the balcony and Leeli starts alternating between playing her whistleharp and dogspeak and soon every dog in the tri-state area is there. This sets off Phineas and Ferb’s adventure of the day when Isabella comes and tells them her dog is missing. At first they try and build a dog summoning device but Leeli keeps also summoning the dogs so I’m just imagining a Bohemian Rhapsody song sequence going “galileo GALILEO galileo GALILEO FIGARO MAGNIFICOOOOOOOOOO” “oh let me gooooooo NO NO NO NO NO NO NO!” that part where the dogs are turning back and forth in a street obviously torn between directions. Phineas and Ferb give up because it’s obviously not working and go to plan B which is follow the sounds the dogs are hearing and see where it leads.

Meanwhile Perry has shown up because there are lasers going off everywhere and all the dogs have been pied-pipered there. He just lands on the balcony next to the girls and stares wide eyed at the chaos. Leeli looks at him like, “ooooh look, I summoned a platypus too!” “oh that’s just Perry, he’s my dad’s nemesis.” “hi Perry! you should go find my brother Janner he’ll love that.”

I think Artham and Fiddleford are just sitting off to the side observing the chaos. Artham is cheerfully petting dogs. Fiddleford is fixing all the inators as they break just for funsies. At least sixteen things are on fire. Janner has discovered Perry’s here and is happily sketching him again, with a hat this time and the clarification “platypus (secret agent)”. Doofenshmirtz is still in the background trying and failing to catch Kalmar who is having the time of his life.

There is a knock on the door and it is the boys and Isabella. Leeli answered and when they ask about Isabella’s dog she happily summons it with dogspeak. This is also when they go “oh there you are Perry” and he’s just chilling in a sea of dogs for no reason.

PART THREE is just Perry’s secret agency freaking out about how Leeli can straight up summon dogs and talking about how great that would be for them if they could get her to work for them so Perry has to find her. Luckily Leeli and her brothers are visiting again so he gets her and brings her down to his secret hideout. What follows is Major Monogram trying to convince this 10-11 year old to join a secret agency to train dogs and Leeli just like “you had me at ‘train dogs’” but then being the granddaughter of a pirate kicks in and she’s like “what’s in it for me?” and while Monogram and Carl try (and fail) to figure out what preteen girls like, Leeli mentally puts together a list of demands.

“Okay, first, I want a hat like Perry’s.” “Done.” “Second I want to go with Perry on one of his missions so I can ask Dr. Doofenshmirtz for one of his inventions and take it home for Kalmar.” “... W H Y.” “because he didn’t get to ask last time! he was too excited and hyped up on sugar!” “.... alright, fine.” *Leeli squees*

What follows is just a montage of Leeli training dogs while wearing a little secret agent hat. Then Perry has to chaperone her on one of his missions (he tries to open the door for her but Leeli’s like “I got it” and bangs it down with her crutch “they don’t call me lizardkicker and batwhacker for nothing!” Perry has no idea what that means but he’s a little afraid of her now).

Leeli walks in somehow avoiding any traps but Perry doesn’t even though he directly follows her, and she just trots up to Doof like, “Hi Dr. Doofenshmirtz Perry brought me here so I could ask if I could get one of your inventions for Kalmar.” and Doof’s just staring at her like “why are you using a little girl to confuse me Perry the platypus” Leeli looks back and forth between them a couple times and then is like, “oh right you have to do your fighting thing, okay, go ahead I’ll wait.” and sits politely off to the side waiting for them to have their daily confrontation. And they’re both just like “.....”

They stare at her for long enough that she’s just like, “well okay Perry if you won’t stop him I guess I will” and just. whacks Doofenshmirtz with her crutch. he starts yelling at her like “oh that’s no fair, what am I supposed to do, beat up a little girl?!”

And Leeli, who has recently read The Hobbit, continues whacking him while yelling, “I’m not a little girl! I am the lizardkicker of Glipwood, batwhacker of Ban Rona! I am the Song Maiden of the Shining Isle of Anniera and granddaughter of Podo Helmer! And now I’m a secret agent!”

She then manages to whack his inator in just the right spot so that it collapses into a pile of rubble and then looks up at him all wide-eyed innocence like, “okay can I have something for Kalmar now? :)” and he’s like “.... okay sure, why not.”

Perry’s just projecting this back to HQ with his watch and they’re like “:O”

It ends with Leeli loading up whatever contraption she’s acquired for her brother onto a wagon pulled by dogs while she declines the agency’s offer of a full time job with a winning smile “sorry, I’m already the Song Maiden, defender of the Shining Isle, and a little kid. My schedule’s full.” and she heads cheerfully through a portal with her brothers, dogs and wagon in tow.

#the wingfeather saga #phineas and ferb #this reads like a fever dream and Idk what to say #been thinking about this for a while but I have been in a very goofy mood the past two evenings so voila #ft. leeli being the most chaotic wingfeather child #I should have been in bed an hour ago but aerwiar #if you actually read this I hope you got a good laugh #will I regret this in the morning? who knows!#probably #but for now I'm very amused

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jacky-rubou · 2 years

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rambling about paralyzed Ford to take my mind off of this awful day.

The days before Dipper and Mabel arrived were full of both excitement and nervousness for Ford. He hadn't had the chance to travel anywhere outside of Oregon, much less visit family. Having no clue how they would react to him or what they were like, Ford felt slightly anxious. They were kids, bound to have much more energy than he ever had and possibly more questions about him than he could feasibly answer. Ford prepped himself by thinking of ways he could answer several possible questions, taking into account that Stan would have to translate his signing.

Of course it turned out that Ford was seriously overthinking when the twins arrived. It was so incredibly surprising when Mabel signed to him that first time, it stunned him. Ford wasn't expecting that at all. Dipper and Mabel proved to be very kind towards Ford, assisting him with what he needed when Stan wasn't around. But Ford didn't want to feel like he was taking their fun away from the summer by always needing help, so he usually waited until Stan was available for assistance. But he received help from his niblings more often that not, regardless of his attempts to dissuade them.

Ford spent a lot of time with his niblings when he wasn't in too much pain, wanting to thoroughly get to know them before summer ended. Still loving a good old fashioned game of Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons but not having a lot of opportunities to play it, Ford was ecstatic when Dipper told him he loved that game. The duo often played on the dining room table, a more accessible location than the floor. Ford's muteness made for a small hurdle when they first began playing that very vocal game, but he was willing to sign everything he needed to before rolling, so it was still fun.

Mabel taught Ford how to knit when he asked how she made so many sweaters for herself. It was an activity Ford grew to love sharing with Mabel, though he wasn't nearly as good as her at it. By the time the summer ended, Ford's closet was practically drowning in Mabel's gifted sweaters and knitting supplies. Ford and Mabel spent much of the summer wearing theme coordinated sweaters for every occasion. Ford was happy to follow her whims in fashion, just enjoying the fun company she provided.

Ford loved to join in on Dipper and Mabel's adventures, often providing his knowledge of the town and the forest when they got stuck trying to solve a mystery. Though physically being there with them on rough trails could be difficult, Ford usually found his way. His wheelchair was designed by Fiddleford after all. When he needed their attention, he lightly tapped the metal of his wheelchair so as to not scare potential weirdlife with the buzzer. It made him happy that he could still do what he loved, even if he had to change it up from before, especially with his beloved niblings.

At home, Ford liked to sit them down on his lap or at the table and tell stories. Stories of him and Stan, of fantastic creatures he met before becoming paralyzed, of dimensions he'd dreamed of every night that felt weirdly familiar, anything and everything that an interesting story could be made from. Ford also taught them some signs that the twins didn't know already, pointing to something or writing a word and signing it. By the time the summer ended, the twins were most definitely fluent in sign language, or at least more than they were when they first arrived.

All in all, Ford loves his niblings so much. Their summer with him was simply the best summer Ford had ever had in so many years. Dipper and Mabel could say pretty much the same thing. They had bonded so well it was hard to tell that they hadn't met before that summer. Ford just wished he could've met them sooner, but travel was an impossibility for him. It was no matter, Ford was still very grateful that he had met them at all.

anyway, this is a big ramble so imma stop there. just needed to talk about things that make me happy, like my paralyzed Ford and everything about him, cuz today was pretty rough. it's kinda weird, I'm only just now obsessing over him again when I finished the fic months ago... but whatever. hope y'all enjoy this and feel free to ask questions!!!

#am i just straight up writing a fanfic here #maybe #gravity falls #ford pines #stanford pines #dipper pines #mabel pines #stan pines #he signs i love you #au #thoughts #having a bad day? no problem‚ just ramble about paralyzed ford #that's my solution

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goodoldfashionedengineer · 1 year

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A Road Less Traveled

Ao3

Chapter: 1/2

Word Count: 2032

Summary: Gravity Falls, the only place where he would ever fit in.

This was fine. He should be happy that at least his brother had friends. It was his own fault that caused his only friendship to break.

At least he found some comfort in the forrest.

Or: Ford thinks his friendship with Fiddleford is unrepairable, finds some comfort, only to be reminded that he would be alone forever.

Or would he?

Relativity Falls AU

Chapter 1: A Lone Hero

Gravity Falls was a strange place.

It was strange, just like him. Half of the summer was over, but it felt like he had already been here for an eternity. Stan and him were always on adventures, finding something new every day, cataloging it all in his journal. And they still had to figure out who the videographer was and what happened to him.

He finally felt free. It was the beginning of his twins' and his career as adventurers. Just the two of them and occasionally Great Aunt Mable.

Until it wasn't just the two of them anymore. Until Stan had found friends beside Ford. Until he had realized that he didn't actually know who he was without his twin.

And it got him thinking. Some of those thoughts made him feel so very guilty because how dare he think that.

He pretended that he didn't mind that Stan was spending more and more time with his new friends. He ignored the silent voice in his head that told him that Stan's friends must hate him because why wouldn't they.

However, mostly he felt jealousy. And he wasn't very proud of it. Stan had offered to Ford to come with him but Ford declined every time. On the other hand, he wished that it would be as easy for him to make friends as it had been for Stan. Stan was always better when it came to social skills. Something that Ford could never truly master.

But then he met Fiddleford. Finally, Ford had someone who didn't mind listening to Ford's scientific rambling and he actually contributed his own knowledge. Fiddleford didn't make fun of him for his love of the board game "Dungeons, Dungeons & More Dungeons". Quite the opposite happened because Fiddleford found a liking in the game as well.

It was like a dream. At long, long last, he had found a friend who didn't judge him. Think of him as awkward, weird or freaky. It was so easy to spend time with him. Conversations seemed so natural.

It wasn't long until Ford had invited Fiddleford to come with him on a monster hunt. Which turned out to be a fatal mistake.

They encountered a scampfire, usually not a large threat. Despite that, Fiddleford got too close to it and one of his pant legs caught fire. Ford reacted fast, poured some water over it and thus, the burn spot was only minor.

Still, Fiddleford seemed pretty freaked out over it. So he suggested heading towards the town's site.

Luck wasn't with them that day and they encountered a Killbilly. They ran as fast as they could. Still being followed, they hid in the closest convenience store, and the Killbilly was denied entry for lack of shoes and shirt.

Fiddleford was shaking like a twig in the wind. His eyes were wide open and his teeth clacked. Ford offered to walk home with him. He didn't even get a verbal response, just a nod.

Ford's eyes switched between looking at the ground and looking at Fiddleford. It was obvious that he was seriously shaken up by this day's events.

When they arrived, he said goodbye but didn't get a response.

—

He came home and it was loud. In the living room were Stan and Mabel, dancing to some song he didn't know. Ford rushed to the attic, got his journal, and made his way to the woods again. He needed time to himself.

The thirteen-year-old made his way to his hiding spot when he needed peace. The log was there, the light had this same yellowish glow it always had at this time of day. It was a place at the edge of the forest, but far away enough to not see the shack anymore.

Ford felt bad. Awful even. He never wanted to cause his friend anxiety. Fiddleford wouldn't forgive him. Ford had his one chance and messed up and now he had to live with the consequence. To be alone again.

Opening the journal on a blank page made him pause. Normally, he wrote how he felt or doodled something. But all he felt can only be described as sorriness and nothingness. He didn't know how the rest of the summer would look like now. A lone researcher isn't too bad of an image, is it? Maybe he could draw that. But how do you draw loneliness without being lonely? Lonely didn't have to be something bad, did it?

Absent-minded he traced out the triangular shape on the log. A lot of the trees here had this symbol. Was it native to this particular species or just a coincidence?

Suddenly something heavy fell onto his head. After searching the area, his eyes found the thing which caused his pain. It was an animal with an extraordinary pattern of pelt, which looked just like Boyish Dan's jacket. Ford heaved it up. Close resemblance to a platypus, but the pattern was very unusual.

Was this one of the creatures Boyish Dan told him about?! A Plaidypus? Is the legend true after all? He thought it was just one of the many folklore stories but it really is just another anomaly local to this strange town.

The Plaidypus emitted some odor. Ford took it closer to himself without a second thought. After taking a few deep breaths through his nose, he classified it as maple syrup and bacon. It was comforting, homey and familiar.

Ford now held it at eye height. The eyes were round and cartoonish. But it didn't show any signs of distress. Or judgment. It looked kind of cute even.

Ford took it to his chest again and gave it a hug. There was no struggle, so he continued to hold it, taking deep breaths through his nose.

His thoughts didn't stop during that hug. The Plaidypus would make a great pet. He wouldn't be lonely if he had a companion. But then he also had to give him a name. Flannel! Flannel. Flannel wouldn't leave him behind. Ford would protect Flannel how Stan protects him. He wouldn't let anything harm Flannel.

He looked Flannel into the eyes and he still had the same look. After a small, quick kiss to Flannel's forehead, he gave him a second hug.

Eventually, he laid Flannel down on his lap and returned to his journal. The once blank page now had a realistic looking drawing of Flannel.

He had to find out what Plaidypuses' diet consisted of. Surely Dan could help him. What were their natural habitats? There were so many things he needed to find out about these creatures. Were there others of his species? Had he family?

Had Flannel family? Had he friends?

Would he strip Flannel away from them if he would just take him home?

As much as Ford didn't like not having a brother or a friend to replace him, he couldn't make Flannel a loner as well. It wouldn't be fair. He just had to get used to it and wait it out. Until when is still unknown.

With glassy eyes he put Flannel down to the ground. The animal stared back. Ford closed his eyes and told himself that maybe he could find him again one day. He knew that he had three stripes going around his belly instead of two.

Flannel was still there when his eyes opened.

Why did farewells always have to be unexpected?

It was already hard enough not being liked by his brother's friends, harder to be the reason why your friend doesn't like you anymore. Why was he forced to make the farewell?

Trying to relax as much as possible and convincing himself that he wouldn't cry, he stood up and left.

His pace became faster and faster, never looking back at the only place where a freak like him fit in. He didn't need anyone.

Before he knew it, he had already got to his desired destination. The front door was opened and the music rushed over him again. Running up the stairs and locking the door upon instinct.

Had they even noticed he was here at all? They didn't greet him the first time he arrived. However, he didn't greet either nor did he join them.

The attic was quiet. The only sound was his own panting. Was he truly destined to be alone forever? Was he always meant to be the puzzle piece which wasn't even part of the puzzle?

Clearly people didn't like him but was he that odd?

Was he that strange?

Ford began to believe he was.

Not even his family really understood his quirks. Shermie liked spending time with Stan but he just couldn't click with Ford. His mom always called Stan her free little spirit. Dad didn't hate him but he still told him to let go of his "absurd" obsessions like the supernatural, something that brought him joy.

Stan was the one who danced with Great Aunt Mabel.

Ford didn't cry.

He didn't cry.

It was like Schroedinger's cat, if nobody saw it then nobody could be sure if he was crying or not, maybe it was both, who knew?!

Why was he so jealous?! Stan had to go through as much pain as him. The bullies said horrible things to him as well and when he went alone to the playground, he came back with a black eye more often than not.

Stan was allowed to be happy. Why couldn't Ford be just happy for him?!

It was never like he had a chance at all. Stan did.

The universe was kind enough to give him one as well. He was the one who ruined it. He had his one chance at being normal and destroyed it. It was his fault, really. Fiddleford wasn't Stan, he was not as brave as him, but he had a gentle, open and kind nature. And because of him, that was all gone.

One part of him wanted to sail away forever like they promised. The other wanted to stay here in Gravity Falls because it seemed like the only place where he wouldn't be a freak and his world just made sense. The adults didn't believe in the supernatural, even if it was right under their noses. Or in their near, at least.

In this town, he was just another anomaly among many. Maybe he could find himself here if he just embraced the strangeness. He didn't "fit in into the mold" so why should he even try? The anomalies were kinder than most people he ever met. He didn't need anyone except himself.

A smile crossed his face. With a plan in mind, he went to his bed, ready to continue reading the science book which he didn't finish last night.

What he forgot was the notice board on the wall. The notice board full of photos of this summer.

He picked the book up anyway and avoided the notice board. This topic was fascinating and he didn't know about it before. That was the truth. It only seemed similar to the topic he learned about two years ago.

Eventually, his subconsciousness betrayed him and he took a quick peep to the notice board. One turned to more until he just stared at it.

The majority of pictures included just Stan and him. Some were of Gravity Falls itself. There was a photo from Glass Shard Beach right next to one of the lake in Gravity Falls, his favorite places. A few of Fiddleford and him were also there.

It felt like someone squeezed his heart. He knew he was lying to himself. He knew it but he also knew why he still did it. It was easier than admitting that he really liked going on adventures with Stan, telling Mabel all he knew about a certain topic for hours and playing board games with Fiddleford but nobody reciprocating those feelings.

Fiddleford deserved at least an apology. A genuine one. Yes, it was also to mentally prepare himself for the farewell, but his former friend had a right to it.

Nonetheless, it could wait until tomorrow, so Fiddleford could recover from the shock.

This totally wasn't just another excuse.

#gravity falls #ford pines #stanford pines #gravity falls fanfiction #gravity falls fic #relativity falls au #relativity falls #young ford pines

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incomingalbatross · 3 years

Note

For your WIPs, things Soos probably knows about Stan? And/or post canon summers?

Thank you, and sorry I didn't answer this sooner!

"Things Soos knows" was me brainstorming which parts of Stan's Mysterious Past Soos has already figured out.

I think (as I said somewhere else) that Soos must have guessed that Stan has a long-lost twin, from the indications Stan's dropped over the years, and I think he also knows that one of them was Stanley and one was Stanford, even if (like the fans pre-NWHS) he doesn't know which was which. He also knows that Stan had a bad dad (I'm SURE Filbrick has come up obliquely enough times for him to get that) and that Stan is up to SOMETHING because sometimes you come to the Shack and he's not there but then he IS there and acts like he was all along. Can he teleport? Is there a secret room in the Shack? Does Mr. Pines have a secret superhero identity he's hiding?? It's definitely one of those!

Oh, and Soos is also aware of all the Gravity Falls weirdness and knows that Stan always tells him not to talk about weird stuff or people will think he's crazy. (This is the actual advice Soos gave Dipper in "Tourist Trapped," so...) I imagine that Soos doesn't see the weirdness as a secret so much as "something you don't talk about," and also he's not great at distinguishing genuine weirdness from other stuff, but he does assume Stan is...not unaware of the weirdness, I guess. Which he's right about, but from a funny angle.

(In reality, of course, Stan probably told him not to talk about it as a way of shielding him from the SotBE's attention. But Soos doesn't know about them--and Stan may only have a vague idea of who/what they really are, tbf--so he accepted Stan's advice at face value.)

---

My post-canon summers doc is just notes on things I like to imagine about how Gravity Falls looks, 5-10 years post-canon. It never completely gelled, but some ideas (my own thoughts and things I picked up from fandom):

Gideon and Pacifica maybe forming some sort of formerly-terrible-kids support group

Wendy becomes a big-sister figure to Candy and Grenda and maybe Pacifica as well

Fiddleford fills his new mansion with robots but also all the kids in town like to go there to explore--it's open to everyone 24/7, basically, and you're welcome to camp out in one of the 175 spare bedrooms if you want (I like the idea of him reversing the Northwests' closed-off legacy)

Melody becomes a big-sister figure to Wendy (I still think this is a very important friendship, because they're both Shack crew now but also because Wendy has no women in her life! Melody's friendship would be so good!)

Stan gets renamed "Grandpa Mystery" at some point, once Soos has had his first kid. Ford is maybe Doctor Mystery?

And also the town adds like half-a-dozen new holidays to its regular summer calendar:

The day all the Pines Twins come back every year, there's always a party at the Shack, and it's unofficially the beginning of summer

(Stan and Ford's birthday is smaller--they don't like a big public party, I think. Townspeople still wish them happy birthday and get them presents, and there's always talk of making it a public holiday because of Town Hero Stanley Pines, but it's less of an event.)

Soos's birthday is the happiest party of the summer! Everyone loves Mr. Mystery, so the Mystery Twins and the rest of his family organize a big celebration at the Shack every year and the whole town makes sure to show up. Soos cries every year, too, but they're happy tears.

The craziest party of the summer is the one held at NW Mansion every year, though--funded by Fiddleford's money and organized/hosted by Pacifica. It's full of stuff you'd normally need to pay exorbitantly for at an amusement park or something--lots of unhealthy food, unsafe-yet-thrilling rides built by McGucket from scratch, incredible fireworks, all the rich-people stuff you can think of--and it's all 100% free. It's way over the top.

And then there's August 24th. It doesn't have a name, and people don't talk about it much, but on that day every summer, people get potluck dishes prepared and just get together in the town square with food and bonfires and togetherness. The friendlier anomalies are welcome too, and everyone tells stories that don't get told any other day of the year--stories about a red sky, and fighting for your lives, and monsters and madness and miracles. There are folk songs, and triangles are burned in effigy. The Pines Family are always warmly welcomed there.

The last party of the year is the Mystery Twins' birthday, which is another big day at the Shack. It's always a little sad, because it means the end of summer and the imminent departures of most of the Pineses, but it's also a happy celebration.

...Turns out my headcanons are mostly about parties.

I'm good with that.

#thanks again! i had fun writing out the Gravity Falls Summer Calendar especially #an-aspiring-jester #asks #gravity falls #ask game

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fallen-gravity · 3 years

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awaken the stars, ‘cause they’re all around you

Stanford Pines never really believed in soulmates.

He can't imagine the idea that there's one person out there for him in the multiverse who would stop at nothing to love him for who he is, despite everything he is and everything he's done. He can't imagine that someone out there is meant for him, someone who will stand by his side until the end of time.

Or maybe he'd just been looking at it from the wrong angle.

Notes:

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, @stariousfalls!!!!! I can't believe we've been friends for upwards of five years now?? You've been a huge inspiration of mine from my first day in the gravity falls fandom back in late 2014, and now you're one of my closest friends. I've been spending the last week and a half working on this behind your back, because I wanted to surprise you with a gift I thought you'd love!!

7.5k words of fluff was....not my original plan, but fluff brain wanted to go feral for you, I guess.

Huge, huge shoutout to @ariasofelegance for helping me keep my mouth shut about this, I absolutely would've internally combusted without your help & support

AO3

Ford never saw the appeal of romantic relationships.

One night when he and Stan were kids, they snuck downstairs in the middle of the night after their parents were asleep to dig through Pa’s “Secret stash” of movies he thought he was good at keeping a secret. They’d thought for sure they’d be coming across bootleg cuts of action movies that were still playing in theaters, or documentaries about how all of the politicians in power were secretly aliens.

What they actually found was much more…sensual. They were both horrified, to say the least, but each time Ford had to turn away to prevent himself from gagging, he’d hear Stan beside him struggling not to laugh.

For years, Ford was convinced coming across those tapes before he was old enough to fully comprehend what was happening in them is what had turned him off to relationships altogether. It certainly didn’t help that he was never able to experience romantic relationships firsthand, as every time he tried asking someone out in high school he’d just be laughed at or called a freak.

Though college was another story entirely, his feelings towards romantic relationships never seemed to change. He went out with a girl from his dungeons, dungeons, and more dungeons club for a few weeks, a guy from his advanced physics class for almost two months, and even tried going out with Fiddleford for upwards of nine months, but he never felt that deeper connection with any of them, no matter how much he wanted to feel that connection.

It’d be forty more years before he learned the term aromantic, but when he was still in college he would brush off his parents’ questions about his relationship status by telling them he was too busy working on his thesis, which technically wasn’t all that far from the truth anyway.

Still, the faint sense of yearning never seemed to leave him be. Whenever he found gaps in his schedule, he would spend hours in his university library reading up on the science of relationships and their place in society. Though he no longer remembers most of the papers he read, one scientific study that’s always stuck with him was a dissertation written entirely on the concept of soulmates.

Everyone has a soulmate, the paper claimed. Though it may be decades until you properly meet, your path always leads to the moment that you and your soulmate are finally united. Once finally together, not a single force on earth can tear you apart. Even if you are apart physically, the stars will always align to bring you together. Weirdest of all, the paper mentioned soulmarks, which were described as “the phenomenon that a person’s very soul is marked with a piece that belongs to their soulmate, which may appear as a physical anomaly on a person’s body, such as an oddly-shaped birthmark”.

Ford had thought for sure that somebody must’ve moved a romance novel into the sociology section of the library as a joke. The only sort of anomaly he had going for him was his polydactyly, and thinking too much about how that could connect him to a single person who was destined to love him gave him a headache.

Nowadays, though, Ford tries not to give it much thought. He’s perfectly happy right where he is, watching the sunrise from the deck of the Stan O’ War II through the steam visibly rising from his coffee mug.

He sighs contently.

“Mornin’” Stan’s voice sounds beside him, gruff with sleep. When Ford turns to look at him, he’s rubbing at his eyes with one hand while he holds a steaming cup of coffee in his other. He’s already donning one of the sweaters Mabel mailed to him, a deep blue with a tropical island and a treasure chest stitched across the chest.

Ford smirks. “You’re up early”

Stan cocks an eyebrow as he sips from his coffee. “A’course I am. I always get up early when we’re docking to see the kids”

Ford blinks, the teasing smirk on his face melting into a gentle smile. “That’s today?”

“Haven’t you checked the calendar lately?” Stan tosses a second handmade sweater at Ford. This one’s the same shade of maroon as his journal covers, and pictures an angry cycloptopus squirting ink towards the bottom left corner of the sweater. “The kids are on spring break. They talked to their parents about letting us have ‘em all week”

Ford is quick to pull the warm sweater over his head. “All week?”

He can’t help sounding like a broken record, but it’s been months since the last time he saw the kids face to face. Sure, they talk over video at least once a week, but nothing beats seeing their smiling faces and having them nearly tackle him to the ground in a hug in-person.

“Heh, you miss em too, Sixer?”

As little as two years ago, Ford would’ve flinched at the nickname. But Bill is gone for good, and Ford knows that Bill is gone for good, and Stan made a promise to do anything in his power to help him reclaim the nickname. He brings his mug close to his face without taking a sip, allowing himself to take in the warmth in his hands and the steam in his face.

“Not as much as you, clearly” Ford smirks, and Stan crosses his arms over his chest.

“You bet I missed them more than you. I’d been taking care of them all summer before you showed up and fell in love with them in half that time”

Ford smirks as he finishes up his coffee and heads into the navigation room to set their course. “By that logic, wouldn’t that mean that I miss them more, since I had less time with them?”

“Hey!” Stan groans as he follows him into the room. “It does not. It means that you don’t know them like I know them, genius. Everyone knows that it’s all about how much time you’ve spent with a person that determines how close you are with them”

Ford laughs as he enters the coordinates they need to get to the seaport they were meeting the young twins at. From the looks of it, it’d be three hours before they arrived.

“Mm, and who put that study together? Was it you?”

Stan doesn’t reply with words, just a noise that sounds halfway between disgruntled and baffled. It makes Ford laugh even harder, and he wipes at his eyes with a wrist. Out of the corner of his eyes, he sees Stan’s overdramatic pout melt away until he’s laughing too.

The sight of it makes the smile on Ford’s face widen. It’d been decades since the two of them were able to just be like this. It’d been so long since the last time Ford heard Stan’s genuine laugh that he’d gone and forgotten what it sounded like altogether. When he was still traveling the multiverse, he searched far and wide for a shred of hope, something to keep his anxieties and nightmares from catching up to him.

What a fool he’d been to ignore his childhood memories of home.

The trip is a quiet but familiar one. Ford can’t talk much when he’s steering because he needs to be on constant lookout, but Stan remains in the room to talk at him and keep him company anyway. The sun is well over the horizon by the time they reach the seaport, and call it instincts, intuition, or something else entirely, because Ford spots the kids sitting on a bench in the near distance the moment he and Stan step foot onto the dock.

They’re squished closely together, watching a video on Mabel’s phone. Whether they’re aware of it or not, they’re swaying their legs back and forth underneath the bench in perfect unison. On the ground beside them are their backpacks, overstuffed with so many things that both of them are popping open.

Most importantly, neither of them have noticed that Ford and Stan are approaching them.

Ford exchanges an amused glance with Stan, and clears his throat to catch their attention.

The phone nearly stumbles out of their hands in shock when they look up and meet their eyes.

“Grunkle Stan!” Mabel squeals, standing to sprint past Ford to knock Stan off of his feet. Ford chuckles at the sight, but not quickly enough to hear Dipper’s “Great Uncle Ford!”, and before he knows it he’s hitting the floor too. The young twins are laughing messes, and stumble over each other as they try to stand to their feet and help their Grunkles up.

Mabel spits out the hair that stuck to her mouth, and pulls a hair tie seemingly out of thin air to tie her hair up into a ponytail. It’s only now that Ford realizes that she and Dipper are also both wearing sweaters, and if Ford had to guess, it looks like Mabel made both of these sweaters as well. Mabel’s is a galaxy print with actual twinkling stars, and Ford makes a mental note to ask her later what she did to make it glow like that. Dipper’s is also space themed, though his pictures the big dipper splotched across a black night sky with a bright orange meteor shooting through the center.

“You have to tell us about everything you’ve encountered”, Dipper beams, once Stan finishes brushing himself off.

Stan cocks an eyebrow. “Two years’ worth is a lot to get through, kiddo”

“Exactly!” Mabel beams, turning to pick up her backpack and put it on. “Which is exactly why you can tell us on the way to the hotel!”

“Hotel?” Ford and Stan ask in unison.

“Surprise?” Dipper giggles. “Our parents rented us a hotel room for the week cause they figured you’d appreciate some time away from the boat”

“It’ll be like our summer in Gravity Falls all over again!” Mabel grins. “But in reverse! You’re in our territory now”

Stan laughs. “You’re the boss, kiddo”

“You bet I am!” She beams, and hands Dipper his backpack. “Now c’mon! If you tell us all of the horrors you’ve encountered out at sea, we’ll tell you about all the horrors we’ve encountered in high school!”

“I...think I remember those horrors pretty well already, thank you” Ford smiles sheepishly, adjusting his glasses. “But we’d be more than glad to tell you some of our own stories”

It’s a short walk to the bus stop, but Ford honestly wouldn’t mind if they walked all the way to the hotel on foot if it meant an extra half an hour with the kids. They’re just as eccentric as he remembers, attached at the hip but still wildly different people all on their own. Dipper’s still hanging on to every word he’s saying, and Mabel’s still skipping along like she’s in her own world.

Once they reach the hotel and check in, Dipper collapses face first onto one of the beds the moment he steps into the room, groaning.

Stan smiles. “Something bothering you, kiddo?”

He turns on his side to look Stan in the eye, his face smushing into the pillow. “Mabel didn’t let me get any sleep last night. She insisted on getting to the seaport three whole hours early because she insisted that she had this gut feeling that you guys would have the same idea and we’d magically show up at the same time”

Mabel pouts, and sits on the bed besides him. “Well it’s not my fault you stayed up late reading that dumb book of yours. Plus, would you rather have kept them waiting for three hours?”

Dipper removes his hat and places it on the table beside him, exposing just enough of his forehead through his hair to reveal his birthmark. It has the same faint glow to it as Mabel’s sweater, and Ford wonders how the two could possibly reflect off of each other.

“Their boat has beds and a fully stocked kitchen, Mabel. They can afford to wait. All we had were those strawberry pop tarts that you ate five minutes after we got there”

Ford can’t help but smile softly at their banter. He missed them so, so, much more than he could’ve ever imagined. He’s got half a mind to stow them away on the boat at the end of the week and homeschool them both himself so he never has to be apart from them again.

Apart. The word still feels like a knife twisted into his chest. There’s nothing he regrets more than trying to separate the young twins from each other two summers ago because he’d been so caught up in projecting his own fears onto the pair. He’d tried apologizing to Mabel over the whole ordeal, but she stopped him before he could even start to tell him he had nothing to worry about.

He only wishes he could learn to forgive himself as easily as she did.

“...Can we, Grunkle Ford?”

He blushes. Had he just said all of that out loud?

“Can we...what?”

“Take the boat out! Not right now, since Dips is being a grumpy-grump and insists on wasting precious time with a nap, but we’ve been talking about it all week”

From across the room, Stan snorts. “Let me get this straight,” he takes his jacket off and hangs it up in the closet. At this point Ford swears his eyes must be playing tricks on him, because Stan’s old burn scar is glowing just as Mabel’s sweater and Dipper’s birthmark are. “All the time you spent groaning and complaining about fishing every time I took you in Gravity Falls, and now you’re asking to go fishing?”

“I was thinking more along the lines of a joy ride,” Dipper yawns from under the covers. “But if agreeing to go fishing is what gets you to say yes, then sure”

He’s smirking under the covers, Ford can tell, because he inherited that expression from Stan.

Stan’s about to bite back, but Dipper must not have been exaggerating about how long he and Mabel were waiting for them at the dock, because he’s already out cold. Stan smiles at him, gently ruffling up his hair before he takes a seat on the adjacent bed, kicking his shoes off so he can kick his feet up on the bed and relax. Ford sits beside Stan, and Stan slings his arms behind him to support his head in his hands as he glances over at Ford.

“They make you wanna retire the whole ‘treasure hunting’ thing and move into the city to be closer to ‘em too?”

Ford chuckles. “I’ve already considered hiding them away on the boat twice today already.” He taps at his chin. “Though I suppose that moving in with them would go over better with their parents then taking them away to live on a boat”

“Hmm…” Stan taps at his chin as well. “Being stuck in the same stuffy high school for four years, or living on a boat traveling all over the world whenever they feel like it? I dunno about you, Sixer, but I have a pretty good idea on what the kids would prefer”

“Grunkle Stan? Grunkle Ford?” Mabel’s voice suddenly chimes in, and Ford blushes, wondering how much of that she just heard.

“What’s on your mind, pumpkin?” Stan asks.

“Well, uh, Dipper was right about us only eating once really early this morning, and I was wondering if you’d be willing to, uh” She twirls her hair between her fingers. “Cook something for us? For old time’s sake?”

Okay, it’s settled, Ford’s never letting these kids go again.

“Sure, kiddo. Soon as your brother’s up we’ll head right back up, okay?”

“Okay!” she beams, and crawls back into her side of the bed, staring at Dipper like she can will him into waking up on command.

Though Ford would’ve been okay if they’d had to wait hours for him, it’s really only about twenty minutes before Dipper opens his eyes again and nearly shrieks in surprise at Mabel’s face hovering three inches from his own. He smacks his hand into her face to shove her away, and she giggles as she rolls off the bed and onto the floor.

Beside Ford, Stan smirks. “Better get up before we leave without you and all our food goes to Mabel, kiddo. You’ve got plenty of time to crash in Ford’s bed on the ship, since he never seems to use it anyway”

Dipper yawns, rubbing at his eyes as he kicks the covers off. “I hadn’t even realized I’d fallen asleep”

“I didn’t realize you were even capable of sleep, bro-bro” Mabel punches him in the shoulder as she walks past him to put her shoes on. He glares at her wordlessly, and Ford has to cover up his snicker with a fake cough.

This time, the bus ride and the walk back to the ship are a quiet one. Ford never really lets himself let his guard down and relax for an extended period of the time, so he cherishes any moment he can get where he finally feels like he doesn’t constantly feel the need to check over his shoulder for signs of danger. Most of the time, if you asked him about his heightened senses, he’d call them a curse. But on days like these, when he can hear the birds chirping and the waves smacking gently against the boats in the seaport, he’d almost go as far as calling it a blessing.

The kids take a seat at the dining table as soon as they enter the kitchen, and Stan grins at them from over his shoulder as he clicks the stove on. “Whaddya say, Stancakes?”

Dipper and Mabel grimace in unison. “Ewwww, Grunkle Stan, you promised lunch!” Mabel scrunches her nose, and Stan’s grin only widens.

“Ah, ah, you said like old times. That means I get to decide what to make, and you have to eat it because I’m your legal guardian”.

“Well I wasn’t even awake when you were talking about old times, so I’d say that cancels out” Dipper crosses his arms over his chest, and Ford can’t help but smile warmly at the three of them as he reaches into the cupboard for his favorite coffee mug. The younger twins clearly had just gotten two copies of the same mug, but crossed both of them out so they’d say #1 GRUNKLES on them instead of #1 UNCLE. Stan has the other one, of course, but he keeps it on his bedside to hold small treasures and keepsakes because it’s, in his own words, “Too special to waste on something as ordinary as coffee”.

Ford sits himself in the seat between the younger twins at their okay, and after some back and forth banter between the four of them, they end up settling for burgers. Truth be told, this is the first time Ford’s eaten a meal in a group larger than two since the last time he and Stan visited the young twins in the winter, and he can’t help but smile into his food at the thought. The closest he’d come even remotely close to eating with others in his research years was his very, very brief time at the truck stop diner, and the experience had soured his view of...well, other people for near decades.

Now, though, he’d burn his own research dozens of times over before he’d even consider eating alone.

Stan’s chair scraping across the floor as he stands pops Ford out of his bubble of serenity.

“Now that that’s taken care of,” Stan cracks his knuckles, smiling mischievously at Dipper and Mabel. “I think I remember a couple of kiddos finally promising their Grunkle Stan he could take them fishing”

“Promise is a strong word-” Dipper starts as he stands to place his plate in the sink, but Stan’s already placing a fishing hat on his head before he can finish his sentence.

“Course you did! You wanna take our baby for a joyride, you gotta earn it first”

Dipper turns to Ford, like he’s expecting him to back him up.

Ford chuckles. “I don’t know, Dipper. That sounds perfectly reasonable to me”.

Dipper scoffs, sitting back down at the table. Mabel laughs.

“Aww, C’mon, Dipper! Aren’t you all about the supernatural? For all we know, Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford could be harboring magical glowing bait that only attracts, like, magical talking fish men, or something!”

Dipper raises an eyebrow. “Didn’t you just receive a bottle message from Mermando last week?”

“Exactly!” Mabel flashes a grin. “That must mean that he’s in the area!”

Stan laughs. “You tellin’ me you only agreed to go fishing so you could kiss and make-up with your long-distance fish boyfriend?”

“Grunkle Stan, what kind of person do you take me for?” she gasps. “He’s married! You know I would never want to break apart such a loving couple!”

Ford’s smile only warms. Where else could he partake in such a conversation that doesn’t turn heads and result in judgmental whispers? Where else can he just be like this, surrounded by loved ones who are just as weird, just as out of the ordinary as himself? In his younger years he thought for sure his place would be among the monsters and cryptids everyone in his childhood made him out to be, but even in the weirdness capital of the country he felt more alone than ever.

“...Don’t think you’re immune, Sixer” Stan’s voice cuts into his thoughts, and before Ford can ask what he means Stan is smacking a homemade fishing cap on his head. “It may ruin your badass image when we’re monster hunting, or whatever, but we’re fishing with the kids.” Stan gestures to them with his thumb. They’re already outside, leaning over the railing to look out at the water in a perfect mirror of each other. “If they have to embarrass themselves by humoring me for a few hours, so do you”

Ford waits for Stan to join the kids outside before he takes his hat off to admire the stitch work. It’s not perfect, and nowhere near the fancy embroidery he and Stan have found in various markets across their world travels. But it’s personalized, and Ford knows it comes from a place in Stan’s mind that’s been stuck behind lock and key since he was seventeen.

Ford runs his hands along each individual letter, which reads POINDEXTER, before placing it back on his head to join the others outside.

Stan has, miraculously, already pulled out his joke book. Stan’s laughing too hard at his own joke for Ford to really make out what the punchline is, but the younger twins’ collective groans is all he needs to know about it. When Mabel notices him stepping out of the doorway, though, her expression shifts entirely.

“So…” she draws out, stepping towards him. “Is there a trick for attracting merpeople to your boat? I mean, asides from being super cute, obviously”

Ford chuckles, taking a glance behind her to make sure that Stan is out of earshot. “Stan’ll kill me if I tell you this, but they’re really attracted towards shiny things. If you tied one of his gold necklaces around a fishing pole and dangled it into the water, the boat’ll be surrounded in minutes”

Mabel offers up her pinkie finger. “I won’t tell him if you won’t”

Ford interlocks his pinkie with hers, smiling. “I think he’ll notice when a whole family of merpeople show up”

“Hmmm…” Mabel taps at her chin with her free hand, visibly mouthing a plan to herself. “Oh! I know! Come with me,” she beams, and before Ford can even open his mouth to respond she’s already dragging him back into the kitchen. She kneels down on the floor and opens the cupboard below the sink. “Got any empty bottles I can use?”

Ford blinks. “Empty....bottles”

“Yeah!” Mabel pulls a neatly folded piece of paper out of her skirt. “If I can send out my response letter the same time we throw Stan’s necklace over, he’ll never be able to tell the difference!”

“Wait, wait” Ford shakes his head. “You really are dating a merperson?”

“Listening skills, Grunkle Ford” she taps at her forehead, folding the letter back into her pocket as she continues to dig through the cupboards. “Used to date. We met at the Gravity Falls Public Pool, where he was stuck, but then I drove him to the lake in a golf cart I stole from the pool grounds because he really missed his family, and then he was my first kiss, and then we were in a long-distance relationship for like, two months, and I kept every single bottle he sent me, but then we had to break up because he was arranged to marry to prevent a big undersea war.” She picks up a bottle, shakes it, and puts it back when it’s too full for her liking. “I know it sounds, like, super complicated, but it’s all okay, because we’re still pen pals!”

Ford laughs, shaking his head. “No, Mabel, I had to ask because I, uh…” his cheeks warm, and he clears his throat. “Before I...came to term with my orientation, I...dated a merperson too”

The bottles in the cupboard rattle as Mabel’s head smacks against the doorframe. She’s rubbing the spot where her head hit, but there are stars in her eyes. “Really?”

Ford’s cheeks burn even hotter. “Yes,” he whispers, and takes a knee so he can get at her eye level. “Technically he was a siren, but yes, we dated for about a month. He promised me he wouldn’t entice anyone else while we were together, but I guess there wasn’t anything...there.” He turns to help her shuffle through the cupboard, and finds a near-empty bottle of olive oil that’s definitely been sitting down there for at least a year. He hands it off to Mabel, smiling. “I’m glad that things worked out with you, though”

To his surprise, Mabel drops the bottle and throws her arms around him in a hug. “I can’t wait to introduce you! He’s gonna love you”

Ford huffs a quiet laugh, and pulls her close as he winds his arms around her as well. The hug only lasts for a few brief moments, but it feels to Ford in those moments that time itself had stopped. Mabel stands, taking the bottle in one hand and offering to help Ford up in her other.

Mabel places the bottle in the sink and turns the water on to rinse it out before she turns back towards Ford, stretching her arms up in the air as if she were warming up for an exercise. “Alright, here’s the plan. You tell me where Grunkle Stan keeps all of his jewelry, and I’ll sneak in and take his necklace while you distract him. Got it?”

Ford smiles. “Got it”.

As Mabel splits away for Stan’s bedroom, Ford heads back out to the deck. Dipper’s leaning over the side of the boat pointing at something jumping out of the water, rambling excitedly to Stan beside him. He’s holding his fishing hat in his hand to stop it from blowing into the water, and his hair is bouncing in the breeze. It’s just enough for the edge of his birthmark to poke through his bangs, and even in broad daylight it seems to be emitting a faint glow.

“I found it!” Mabel cheers, bounding up from behind him. She’s wearing the chain around her neck, and for some reason the gold seems much dimmer in contrast to her sweater. She takes it off and hands it to him. “You wanna do the honors while I go and throw this overboard?”

Ford smiles, ruffling her hair. “Sure thing.” He walks over to where Stan and Dipper are chatting and picks up one of the extra fishing rods. Making sure that Stan’s too engrossed with his conversation to notice, Ford starts wrapping the chain along the line, and at the signal from Mabel, he tosses his line as far from the boat as he can manage.

Five minutes pass before Mabel squeals so loud that Ford’s afraid his glasses might shatter. He reaches for the gun he knows he’s got stashed in his pants pocket, but when he turns to run to her aid she’s leaning halfway over the boat wrapping her arms around a young merman in a tight hug.

“...so good to see you again!” She’s beaming. “I didn’t think you’d be able to find us so quickly!”

“Yes, well, you were easy to track down after we figured out the coordinates to the seaport” the young man says in a thick Spanish accent. “It is good to see you too! My family was so excited to meet you”

“Your family?” she gasps. “Did they all come with you?”

“Of course!” he grins. “We merpeople are very family oriented. Wherever we go, we go together”

Ford winces at the uncanny familiarity of the statement. Mabel must recognize the statement too, because she responds with “Oh, that reminds me! There’s someone I want you guys to meet! Wait right here,” she says, and comes bouncing back over to Ford. Taking his hand in her own, she starts to drag him back to where she’d just been leaning. “C’mon! He’s the one I was just talking about!”

Three more merpeople emerge from the water when she gently knocks on the side of the boat again. “Grunkle Ford, this is Mermando!” she grins, gesturing to the young merman she’d just been conversing with. “He’s the one I helped reunite with his family after they were separated by tragic circumstances.” She wraps her arms around Ford in a side-hug. “Mermando, this is my Grunkle Ford! He was also separated from his family by tragic circumstances, but I helped with that too!”

Mermando laughs. “Even when you think it’s the end, family always finds its way, doesn’t it?”

Ford laughs, shaking his hand. “It always seems that way to me”

“Awwww!” Mabel squeals. “I knew you’d get along!” She grins, and turns her attention back towards Mermando. “Before I forget, though, did you see where Grunkle Ford threw that gold necklace? If I don’t get it back my Grunkle Stan’s gonna kill me”

Mermando laughs again. “I was wondering if that belonged to any of you!” He takes off his shell necklace to reveal that he’d put Stan’s necklace on around his neck. He takes that off, too, and offers it to Ford. “I much prefer this one, anyway” he clicks his shell necklace open, revealing it to be a locket with a picture of his family inside.

Ford takes the gold necklace back, and he means to thank him, but a bell ringing from elsewhere in the port interrupts him before he can open his mouth. Mermando turns to Mabel, taking her hands in his own. “We must go. I’m so sorry we have to leave so soon, but we merpeople recognize the sounds of fishing boats very easily. We’ll try to come back later this week” He opens his arms for her once more, and Mabel wraps his arms around him in a quick hug before she watches him and his family swim away.

“I am so glad that all you were doing was hugging,” Dipper shudders as he and Stan approach Ford and Mabel. “I’m not sure my stomach could handle witnessing you two kissing a second time”

“Awww,” Mabel punches him playfully in the shoulder. “You’re just jealous that I had a boyfriend before you did!”

Dipper cringes. “If you having a boyfriend before I do means I didn’t have to be the one dating a fish, then I’m glad you were the one who got stuck with him first” He punches her back, and gestures at Stan over his shoulder with his thumb. “But anyways, I came over here because Grunkle Stan says he wants to get out on the open water before everyone else gets the idea, or something”.

Ford pockets Stan’s necklace and makes a mental note to put it away sometime later tonight when Stan is too distracted to notice. “Tell Stan I’m going to untie the rope from the edge of the dock, and when he sees me back on board we’re all set to go.”

Nodding, Dipper bounds off towards the navigation room where Stan must be waiting, and Ford steps off of the boat to take care of everything else. On the way to the bow, he traces a hand along the white painted STAN O’ WAR II, and a feeling of warmth sprouts in his chest. Once back on board, he waves to Stan as he passes besides the navigation room once more, and takes a seat on one of the beach chairs they liked to keep aboard.

Most days, Ford prefers to be the one at the wheel. But every once in a while he just wants to be. All he wants to do is lean back in one of their beach chairs and let the sun warm his face. It’s a good kind of warm, the same way spending time with the kids and heavy rain hitting his bedroom window and planning new escapades with Stan feel warm. After so, so long of only knowing unbearable burns, it feels indescribable to have a constant back in his life that heals, rather than hurts.

“Mind if we join you?” Dipper asks, and Ford glances over to see both of the young twins dragging a chair behind them.

Speaking of healing constants.

“Sure,” Ford says, and can’t help the warmth spilling through his tone. They pull their chairs up on either side of him, and curl up to enjoy the warm breeze. Dipper places his hat on his lap to let the wind blow through his hair, and Mabel stretches her arms out behind her head to act as her own pillow. Ford chuckles silently at the pair, and closes his eyes to let himself relax.

All is quiet when Stan finally finds them a spot out on the open water without a single other boat in sight. The water is nearly still, save for the occasional small wave that gently sways the boat. The sun is at its afternoon high, turning the water beautiful shades of teal and aqua. Fishing is tedious, but it’s careful work, and gives Ford something to put all of his focus into. Two whole hours pass before any of them catch a thing, and Stan laughs himself to tears when it’s Dipper who pulls up a single sardine.

Typically Ford prefers much more immersive activities, but right now there’s nowhere else he’d rather be. The sun is starting to set before they realize they aren’t going to have much luck catching anything, and instead decide to take the boat for another ride around the harbor to look for a better place to eventually watch the stars.

“...Great Uncle Ford?” Dipper approaches him shyly once they’ve anchored the boat.

“Yes?”

He tugs shyly at the edge of his sweater. “I…” he starts. “I know you’ve told me that the multiverse was dangerous, and all, but...was there ever anything you enjoyed about it?” He pauses. “What were the sunsets like?”

Ford chuckles, patting at the seat beside him, and Dipper’s eyes light up as he sits down.

“You’re right,” Ford starts, folding his hands together. “I wouldn’t wish what I went through on even my worst enemies, Dipper. It was practically impossible to get any decent amount of sleep and even harder to find food digestible by human kind. I lost some of my best years to the multiverse when I could’ve gone on to become the most renowned scientist in the world.” Ford turns his gaze away from the sun setting on the horizon to meet Dipper’s eyes, but he’s frowning, eyes cast downwards towards the deck of the ship.

“But,” Ford adds before the poor kid can get too lost in his own head, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “It definitely had its perks.” He smiles. “The sun in Dimension 18.2 would emit a sound that mimicked a lullaby every night as it set. Dimension 47’23 had three moons that would shift phases before your very eyes. I haven’t told Mabel because I’m afraid she’ll try activating a portal of her own and run away, but in Dimension 25-12, everyone and everything looks like a watercolor painting. There’s danger in the multiverse, but there’s beauty in equal measure”

“Do you ever miss it?” Dipper fiddles with his hands, like he’s trying real hard not to say the wrong thing. “I mean, I know you don’t miss being lost, or having no idea if you’re ever going to see home again, but...is there any dimension...where you could’ve seen yourself staying, if you thought you couldn’t make it back?”

Ford shifts in his chair so he doesn’t have to twist his neck so much to look directly at his nephew. “Occasionally,” he muses. “I met the most friendly faces in Dimension 52, so my mind does tend to wander there from time to time” he smiles. “But rest assured, there is something in this dimension that makes it my favorite”

“Oh yeah?” Dipper’s eyes light up. “Over every other dimension you’ve passed through? What is it?”

Ford gently nudges Dipper’s shoulder. “You and your sister”

Dipper’s cheeks turn bright red, and he looks as though he’s struggling not to bury his face into the collar of his sweater and disappear. “Really?” his voice squeaks.

Ford nods. “Everything I had in those other dimensions were fleeting, Dipper. At a moment’s notice everything I grew to love could disappear in the blink of an eye. The very thing happened to me in Dimension 52. When I fell asleep, I woke up in a new dimension I didn’t recognize. Things may have been more advanced, and there may have been dimensions crafted to give you your greatest desires, but in the end nothing ever lasted.”

Now it’s Ford’s turn to divert Dipper’s eyes, gaze casting towards the floor. “Stan was cut from my life completely in the dimension that claimed to be a perfect world. I had nobody. Even in dimensions that actively worked towards my happiness, I was all alone” Ford shakes his head, and turns his gaze once more out on the horizon. The sun is still touching the horizon, but it’s dipped just low enough that some of the stars are beginning to show in the sky.

“But...here, at home, everything is consistent. I don’t have to worry about waking up in the morning to find that everyone I love is gone. I can keep everyone in arm’s lengths, even when Stan and I can only communicate with you and your sister over a video call. I’m…” Ford gently squeezes his hands to reassure himself that this is real and now. “...happy. Happier than I’ve been in decades”

Beside him, Dipper yawns, and when Ford spares a glance over at him he’s smiling at him sleepily. “We’re really happy you’re here too, Grunkle Ford” he murmurs, and his eyes slip closed. Ford’s cheeks flush pink, and he has to choke back a laugh because that’s one of the first times Dipper’s felt comfortable enough to call him Grunkle.

Ford stands, so as not to wake Dipper from his nap. A small glance to his right and he catches a glimpse of Stan and Mabel leaning against the side of the boat watching the sunset just outside of earshot of his current conversation with Dipper.

“You finally bore him to sleep with all your nerdy science talk?” Stan asks as he approaches, sparing a glance behind him at Dipper. “Was starting to think that the poor kid would never get a nap in”

“Yes, well,” Ford smirks. “I’m sure it helped plenty that you bored him to death by taking him fishing first”

Stan gasps in mock offense, and slugs him in the shoulder. “Hey, at least I’m engaging them in something they can actually interact with, unlike your kooky alien stories, or whatever”

Ford can’t help the laugh that escapes him. “Bold statement coming from the man who dedicated thirty years of his life rescuing me from said kooky aliens” he says, returning with a punch of his own. Stan opens his mouth to argue back, realizes he has nothing to say, and closes his mouth. The sight of it makes Ford laugh even harder, keeling over and slapping a hand on Stan’s shoulder to support himself. It must be contagious, because it’s not long before Stan is laughing too.

Ford removes his glasses to wipe the tears from his eyes, and cleans off the lenses with the edge of his sweater. Once his eyes adjust after he puts them back on, his throat nearly catches in his throat when he glances back out towards the water. He’s just able to catch a shooting star before it disappears over the horizon, and the boat’s just far out enough on the water that there isn’t an ounce of light pollution obscuring the rest of the stars in the sky. He takes a few steps back so he can look up and admire more of them at once, and if he looks close enough he can see them twinkling.

Before he can ask the others if they’re seeing the same thing, a bright flash of light coming from somewhere on the boat cuts into his thoughts. He turns, to make sure that none of the lights in any of the rooms are on, but no, they’d turned those off when they’d started fishing. Scratching at his head, he turns to Stan and Mabel to ask if they have any idea where the light is coming from, but that question catches in its throat as quickly as it formulated.

They’re the ones emitting light.

Or, rather, Mabel’s sweater and Stan’s shoulder, approximately where his burn scar should be. Those are emitting light.

...Surely it must just be the reflection of the starlight on the water, right? That same bright light must have woken Dipper from his nap, yes?

He turns heel to ask Dipper the same question, but freezes in his tracks before he can take a single step forward. Dipper’s forehead is glowing too, the same way it has since he and Stan docked the boat this morning.

It...It can’t be, can it?

Gripping his forehead, Ford takes a number of steps backwards until his back hits the wall. Maybe...maybe he just needs to call it a night. He’s been awake since sunrise, maybe his vision is just blurring because he needs to lie down?

He waves his hands in front of his face, but no, those don’t look any different. He squints, to make sure his hands aren’t shaking, but no, they’re perfectly still.

He squints at Stan and Mabel, just to try and see if his eyes are watering, and-

He gasps.

Mabel’s sweater, Dipper’s forehead, Stan’s shoulder; they’re not glowing; they’re twinkling like the stars. It was hard to tell in broad daylight, but now that they’re surrounded by a thousand shining stars, the resemblance is unmistakable.

But...that’s not possible. If he can see them twinkling, but none of them have said anything about it, that could only be if those were…

...soulmarks.

Ford suddenly feels like he’s going to pass out.

He slides to the floor.

Is...Is that even possible? Ford thought for sure that study he read years ago was nothing but a joke. Someone...who does everything in their power to bring you two together, no matter the cost? Someone who, even though you may not meet for decades, will feel as though you’ve known each other their entire lives? Someone who will do anything for you, no matter the personal expense?

Someone...someone like Stan, who spent a painstaking thirty years teaching himself quantum physics to rescue someone that anyone else would assume dead? The man who sacrificed his very mind, his very life, so he could be spared physical torture?

Or...someone like Mabel, the first friendly face he saw after emerging from the portal? The one who forgave him so easily after he tried to separate her from her brother? The one who insists on calling him a good person, despite all of those he knows he hurt?

Or...Dipper? His kindred spirit in all things supernatural? The one who, alongside his sister, sacrificed himself as bait for the most dangerous being in the entire multiverse? Who saw memories of him at his very worst, and apologized to him for snooping?

After everything he’s been through...could things really work out that well in his favor? To not have one soulmate but three, and the guarantee that they’ll never leave, because they’ve already expressed how they love him so?

There’s a tear streaming down his cheek at the thought, but he’s too distracted by a fourth light suddenly emitting from...himself to really notice.

He spares a cautious glance downward, and notices a pulsing light emerging from his chest in perfect time with his heartbeat. If he looks closely, he notices that the light travels down his arms and ties itself into a translucent bow around his fingers. If he looks closer still, the light looks as though it’s slinking faintly across the deck of the boat and reaching towards the gentle twinkling of Stan and Mabel’s marks.

Ford places a hand to his forehead, throws his head back, and laughs his throat dry, paying no mind to the tears pouring down his face.

#gravity falls #my writing #syd #cool kid squad 2.0 #ILYSM FRIEND

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nour386 · 3 years

Text

A Picnic In the Woods

Stanford And Fiddleford have a nice day out with one another and enjoy a picnic in the Gravity falls woods.

(also on ao3!)

This is my secret Santa Gift for @pirably who wanted some Fiddauthor fluff. nothing explicitly romantic, just the boys being happy. I hope I met your expectations!

~~~

The sun shone through the tree branches above as Stanford led the way through the woods. There was a cheerful spring in his step when he looked back and saw Fiddleford not far behind, with a picnic basket in hand. A whole day free to themselves, no anomalies to study or machines to work on. His mind ran wild with possabilities.

‘Perhaps we’ll find a new cryptid. Or Perhaps we’ll find a secret city of fairies and become crowned kings or maybe-’

Stanford was pulled out of his thoughts by a gentle pull on his shoulder.

“You’re getting ahead of yourself.” Fiddleford smirked.

“You don’t know that.” Stanford crossed his arms.

“You had that look on your face. The one you have when you’re thinking of finding a magical creature.” Fiddleford pointed at his own face, making a wide-eyed look of wonder with his jaw hanging open. “Kinda like this.”

“That’s an absurd and frankly poor imitation of-” Stanford’s statement was interrupted as a fairy flew past, leaving sparkling dust in her path; and he found himself making the exact expression.

“You’re adorable.” Fiddleford ruffled Stanford's hair. “Come along, times a wastin’ and our lunch ain’t gonna stay warm forever.”

“Are you saying that a brilliant inventor such as yourself hasn’t already designed a device that could not only keep meals warm for hours, but also feed the user?” Stanford asked, spreading his arms in the air.

“Sounds to me like someone is dropping not-so-subtle hints that he’s too lazy to eat at appropriate times.” Fiddleford lowered Stanford’s left arm out of his face. He slid his hand down the researcher’s arm so that they were holding hands.

Stanford paused, looking down to make sure he wasn’t misunderstanding what his hands were feeling. His cheeks flushed red when he saw that they were indeed holding hands. He felt Fiddleford interlace their fingers; and his cheeks turned a deep shade of crimson.

“You-uh-I-” Stanford rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand.

“You’re like a little kitten.” Fiddleford cooed. His smile grew further as he watched his boyfriend squirm under his affection.

“How’s that? If it’s about my sneezing again-”

“I was going to say that you’re both adorable, and easily held. Just like a little kitten.” Fiddleford pulled Stanford closer to leave a soft kiss on his forehead.

“How could you take advantage of my distracted state in such a way, Fiddleford?” Stanford said in mock shock. “I trusted you in my vulnerability, and you treat me like this.”

“I just realised something else that makes ya just like a kitten,” Fiddleford rolled his eyes. “You’re overly dramatic when it comes to the tiniest things.”

“This talk of cute things reminded me of something,” Stanford said.

“Oh do tell,” said Fiddleford.

“I’ve been hearing rumors about creatures who are so cute that any who feast their eyes upon them are compelled to obey their every command.” Stanford spoke excitedly, there was a shine in his eye.

“Well we can rule you out from being one of them.” Fiddleford said smugly.

Stanford shook his head. “You were just singing my praises on my cuteness, what made you change your mind so suddenly?”

“Oh I didn’t say that.” Fiddleford corrected. “All I’m saying is that after this morning, I don’t think you have the power of manipulating people with your cuteness.”

“Listen, getting Stanley to leave his bed before noon is like trying to break down a wall using a sewing needle.” Stanford shrugged.

“Anyway, you were saying something about a creature that, despite all logic, is somehow cuter than you?” Fiddleford said.

“Hmm,” Stanford tapped his chin before snapping his fingers. “Yes! Now my informant was a gnome, so this information might not be too reliable. However I am planning a small expedition next week to find out more.”

The pair continued to walk through the woods. Stanford happily rattled off information about the many wondrous creatures he intended to study and the potential discoveries that were waiting for them in the coming months.

All the while Fiddleford listened intently. While he did not hold the same enthusiasm that Stanford had for the unknown, he did enjoy listening to the way Stanford’s voice sounded when he got excited,he way he’d talk faster as though all his thoughts wanted to get out at once.

Even now, watching Stanford go on about the feuds amongst the many fairy kingdoms and how he hoped to bridge peace to (or at least document the fall out). Fiddleford felt the sheer glee that dripped from Stanford’s voice as he spoke. It was infectious, and Fiddleford found himself matching the spring in his boyfriend’s step as they walked together.

“Oh! We’ve almost arrived.” Stanford pointed at a gap amongst the trees ahead of them.

“Thank the Lord.” Fiddleford sighed.

“You aren’t tired already are you?” Stanford teased.

“I’m sorry, were you the one carrying our picnic basket the entire trek?” Fiddleford shot back.

“I offered to carry it but you said you wanted to,” said Stanford . “You’ve no one to blame for your tiredness but yourself.”

Fiddleford huffed. “You’ll understand when we get there.”

The pair walked through a gap between two tall redwoods. Before them was a small clearing. A small pond sat near the centre, the rest of the ground was covered in short grass. With the sky above and the trees on the far side of the clearing provided a good amount of shade to hide away from the heat.

“Now this is very picturesque.“ Fiddleford rested his hand on his hip.

“All it needs is a hill and it’d look like every picnic in those old stories.” Stanford led the way to the shadow of the trees.

“Knowing this place I doubt we’d be able to climb up a hill without having to answer some arbitrary number of riddles.” Fiddleford said as he followed Stanford’s lead.

Stanford laughed. “With a mind as sharp as yours? I doubt you’d need to worry about riddles.”

“Speaking of my sharp mind.” Fiddleford pulled on Stanford's hand, bringing his boyfriend to a stop. “I might have built something to help us with setting up our picnic.”

“Oho?” Stanford raised his brow. “The floor is yours.”

“Just a moment.” Fiddleford stepped forward, letting go of Stanford’s hand. This made the researcher give a small whine. Fiddleford rolled his eyes as he placed the picnic basket down on the grassy floor. He picked up a long stick from the ground beside him and walked back to Stanford's side. “Now, prepare to be amazed.”

Stanford watched with bated breath as Fiddleford took the stick and tapped the side of the picnic basket three times. Four thin metallic arms emerged from beneath the blanket covering the basket and began to unfold it. With the blanket out of the way, Stanford could see a small robot, rectangular in shape with the aforementioned limbs connected to it. It dusted the blanket before gently laying it on the grass beside the basket. Pressing its hands against the ground, the robot lifted itself out of the basket. It rested its metallic body on the blanket and reached for the food hidden in the basket. In no time at all the robot had placed the impressive spread of food across the blanket.

A roast chicken was placed in the centre of the blanket, surrounded by many sandwiches. They had a variety of fillings, ranging from the simple ham and cheese to more strange, like pickles and mayonnaise. An assortment of fruit, that had been freshly bought from the market the previous day, was placed in a small bowl in the centre of the blanket. Next to that bowl was a bag of jelly beans, as well as a pair of fizzy drinks that Fiddleford knew Stanley wouldn’t miss.

“Pretty impressive eh?” said Fiddleford.

Stanford was unable to answer as he stared in awe at the robot that, having finished its job, neatly folded itself back into the picnic basket.

“Hello? Stanford? You in there?” Fiddleford waved his hand in front of the researcher’s face.

“Fiddleford, that was amazing!” Stanford jumped up and hugged his boyfriend tightly.

“Stanford- you’re- crushin’ me-” Fiddleford coughed.

“Oh, my apologies.” Stanford let him down with an embarrassed smile on his face. “But yes, you did an impressive job with that machine.”

Fiddleford took a deep breath. “I’d have said you were only saying that because I was your boyfriend, if it weren’t for you almost breaking me in two.”

“I was caught up in the moment,” Stanford said. “I was handed the opportunity to watch one of your machines in person. What was I meant to do? Give one of those painfully boring claps like they do at those golf games that Stanley skips past on TV?”

“You might have a point. That did feel a lot more personal than just a clap.” Fiddleford tapped his chin in thought. “But a warnin’ beforehand would be preferred.”

“That can be arranged.” Stanford grinned. “But, before we continue that discussion, how about we enjoy this spread before the ants get to them?”

“Not magical ants I hope.” Fiddleford shuddered.

“You’ve heard of fire ants? Well these are ice ants!” Stanford wriggled his fingers sinisterly. A cheeky smile spread across his face as he continued. “It’s said that their bite can result in frostbite and perhaps even soggy sandwiches if left out in the sun for too long.”

“Then we better get to eating.” Fiddleford rolled his eyes, taking a seat on the blanket.

Stanford stayed standing for a moment. Choosing to savour the sight of Fidddleford sitting in the shade of the trees with a small smile on his face. His golden brown hair shone in the flakes of sun that made it through the branches of the trees that towered above. The engineer was reaching for a sandwich before he realised that he was alone on the blanket. He looked up at Stanford and sighed.

“You shoulda brought your camera.” Fiddleford said. “A picture would last much longer.”

“Now where would the fun be in that?” Stanford sat opposite his boyfriend.

“The fun would be in eatin’ before those ‘ice ants’ get to your food.” Fiddleford threw a sandwich at Stanford.

“Fine fine.” Stanford chuckled. He unwrapped the sandwich before checking the filling. “Ugh, did you grab any random combination of ingredients from the kitchen and put them together?”

“Only for a couple of them.” Fiddleford smiled. Leaning forward, Stanford caught a peak at FIddleford’s sandwich and recognised pickle slices and mayonnaise poking out of the bread. “Makes this into a fun little game of sandwich roulette.”

“Either that, or I have to seriously consider buying you a cookbook.” Stanford sighed. He took another bite of his sandwich. It had a thick slice of cheese between two different flavoured spreads of jam. It was a curious mix of sweet and savoury, but not as bad as he was expecting.

The pair sat together, enjoying the warm afternoon, chatting idly as they ate. They tossed the sandwiches back and forth, daring one another to try out the strange combinations that Fiddleford had concocted. The pair laughed at the way their faces twisted with disgust after a biting into the sandwiches. From sardines and jelly to cucumbers and cheese, the pair passed around the strange flavours before moving on to the main course of their picnic.

While Fiddleford had been proud of the terrible sandwich flavours had concocted, he also knew the value of providing a real meal. He handed Stanford a knife to cut up the chicken, while he prepared the proper sandwiches for them. A quick spread of mayonnaise on a clean slice of bread along with a generous cut of chicken made a simple but tasty chicken sandwich. With Stanford’s nod of approval, Fiddleford made a couple more before digging in himself.

Having finished their lunch, the pair lied back on the now empty blanket and enjoyed the stiff breeze that was blowing through the clearing. They watched the clouds, or Stanford did at least; he had one hand in the bag of jelly brands and the other gently holding Fiddleford’s hand. The engineer rested his head on his free arm and listened to Stanford talk about the different clouds types, and how the many different anomalies viewed them. How some clan of trolls saw storm clouds as warning from ancient giants and would hide themselves underground. Despite his best efforts to stay attentive, the comfort that came from Stanford's voice, the warm sun and his full belly, made him succumb to his drowsiness. Fiddleford gave a small yawn before falling to sleep. Stanford's eyelids felt heavy. He rolled over to find Fiddleford snoring softly. With a small smile, Stanford wriggled closer to his boyfriend so that their foreheads were resting against one another. Feeling a little bit cheeky, he gave a small peck on Fiddleford’s nose.

‘A short nap won’t hurt,’ he thought, before letting himself fall asleep.

I’d like to thank my beta reader @introvert-no-chameleon for their awesome work with helping me fix my grammar.

#Gravity falls #Fanfic #Stanford pines #Fiddleford Mcgucket #Fiddauthor #Nour's art #The Author #Old man mcgucket

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orangeoctopi7 · 3 years

Text

Spiderstan AU Chapter 12

RESEARCH

No one was in a good mood the next morning. Stan was still nursing a huge headache as he recovered from the last bits of Gremloblin neurotoxin. Ford was still cross with Stan for endangering himself and Fiddleford the previous day, as well as a bit distracted thinking about what Bill could possibly be sending him. And poor Fiddleford had obviously not slept a wink last night, although whether that was due to discomfort from the broken arm or anxiety after the Gremloblin attack was unclear.

“Are either of you feeling up to retrieving our supplies?” Ford asked as they all poked at a breakfast of instant oatmeal.

“No.” Stan grumbled into his bowl, pinching the bridge of his nose, as though he could draw the tension out from behind his eyes.

“...Fiddleford?” Ford asked when his friend didn’t respond. The inventor looked up with a start.

“Wh-what?” he reacted as though someone had just threatened him.

“I just want to know if you’re feeling up to going back up the hill and retrieving the supplies we had to leave behind.”

McGucket fidgeted with the sling that was holding his broken arm in place. “N-n-no, no I don’t think so.”

Ford frowned with concern. “Alright. I should be able to manage on my own with the amulet of levitation. Stanley, could you at least take Fiddleford to the hospital, so you can get a professional to set it and provide a proper cast?”

“Waste of money, if y’ask me.” Stan grunted.

“I didn’t ask you.” Ford hissed. “Fiddleford, I suppose it’s your own choice whether you want to go see a doctor or not.”

“No! I’m not crazy! I’m not seein’ no shrink!” his friend snapped.

“...I meant for your arm.” Stanford clarified, after a moment of stunned silence.

“...Oh. R-right…. Yeah… r-reckon I oughta…”

“Look, buddy, if you don’t wanna go to the hospital, no judgement here.” Stan assured the inventor. “And if you do wanna go, I’ll drive ya, just don’t expect me to come in with you.”

“They don’t charge you for sitting in the waiting room, Stan.” Ford rolled his eyes.

“No, but if I ask for a cup of water, they’d probably add it to your bill.” Stan countered.

Ford stood and grabbed his coat, along with a small turquoise stone set in a brass broach. “Well, you two work out what you want to do. I’m going to go retrieve our things.”

“Try not to get yourself killed while you’re off on your own, ok?” Stan called after him as he left.

“I’ll be fine, mom!”

Stan and McGucket just sat chewing their oatmeal for another moment or two before either of them spoke again.

“So, uh, just to be clear, did you want me to drive you to the hospital, or…?”

“Oh, I reckon I should go.” McGucket nodded, more confident this time. “Mainly ‘cuz this make-shift cast an’ sling Stanford made fer me ain’t ‘xactly comfer’ble. A professional one’ll prob’ly be better protection, too.”

“Alright, we’ll go in a minute, just lemme finish eating.”

“While we’re out, I think we oughta talk ‘bout Stanford’s, uh, mysterious friend.”

Stan grimaced. “Yeah. I think that thing was here again last night. I was too out of it to go check, though.”

“Does it show up every night?” McGucket asked anxiously.

“Nah, I only felt it a few times while you were gone.” Stan informed him. “And two of those were during the day. I dunno what that thing’s deal is.”

“That’s ‘xactly why we gotta learn more ‘bout it.” the inventor. “It don’t seem like Ford’s gonna be very forthcoming with information, so we’ll have to start askin’ around the town.”

“How do we do that in a way that, y’know, doesn’t make people think we’re crazy?”

Fiddleford flinched at Stan’s words, and he needed a few seconds to regain his composure.

“Like I said before, lots’a Native American artefacts round the valley have that one-eyed triangle on it. I’m sure if’n we just ask people if they know what it is or where it comes from, act like we’re jus’ interested in the history, that won’t turn no heads.”

“Yeah, cuz I’m sure people will believe a guy like me is just interested in history.”

“Why not? Nobody here knows you ‘cept maybe as Ford’s brother, if they don’t just mistake you for ‘im outright. It ain’t that hard to believe.”

Stan opened his mouth to argue, but Fiddleford had a point. Maybe this would work.

* * *

After dropping Fiddleford off at the hospital, Stan started asking around about the yellow triangle thing. While most folks at least recognized the symbol when Stan drew it, no one really knew where it came from or what it was, other than something associated with the illuminati. Nobody knew about its connections to local Native American folklore. Stan supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised, it wasn’t like he expected the hospital receptionist to be an expert on Native American history.

Thankfully, Fiddleford’s checkup didn’t take too long. Stan had just wrapped up a conversation with an old farmer when the inventor stepped back into the waiting room, wearing a new cast.

“Any luck?” McGucket asked as they climbed back into Stan’s car.

“No. Shockingly, none of these yokels know anything about our mysterious visitor.”

“Hmmm, I reckon we’ll have better luck researchin’ at the library.”

Stan groaned loudly.

“What’ve you got against libraries?” Fiddleford asked, like an insult to the library was as bad as a personal insult.

“Nothin’, libraries are great, they’re some place I can go for air conditioning or heating and just sit around for a few hours without raisin’ a fuss. What I ain’t a fan of is researching.”

Fiddleford chuckled and shook his head. “Well, lucky for you I’m plenty experienced in that department. S’pose you could chat with the librarians while I do the book research.

The library was nearly empty, considering it was the middle of the day on a Wednesday. Of course, that meant the librarians weren’t too preoccupied to answer some questions. One helped Fiddleford search the catalog for books on the local tribes’ history and folklore, while the other talked to Stan.

“Ah yes, you see a lot of this figure in ancient art.” The librarian nodded. “Many people erroneously assume it’s a Freemason or illuminati symbol, but it actually becomes much less common after European contact.”

“Why’s that?” Stan asked.

“Hmm, I’ll admit I don’t know. We haven’t got access to any recordings of local oral tradition. Although I’ve heard many Native American communities are starting to tape that sort of thing. If you really want to know the original story behind that symbol, you should go to the original source!”

“Yeah, cuz I’m sure they’re eager to share the story with some random white guy.” Stan rolled his eyes.

“Oh, I’m sure as long as you’re respectful, they’d just be happy someone is taking an interest. Warm Springs Reservation is only about an hour and a half drive from here, they’re a confederation of Tenino, Wasco, and Paiute tribes. They have a museum, you should go pay them a visit.”

Respectful wasn’t usually in Stan’s vocabulary, but he supposed this case was an exception.

Seeing as the librarian didn’t have much more info for Stan, he contented himself with browsing the library’s comics section while Fiddleford did his book research. The nerd took much less time than Stan had been expecting.

“This library’s collection of local Native American folklore ain’t what I’d call extensive.” Fiddleford shook his head, “I was only able to find a couple of tangential references to the thing. All I got is it’s associated with knowledge.”

“Hmph, no wonder Ford’s buddy-buddy with it.”

“What ‘bout you, did the librarian have any more info for ya?”

“Not really, but she did recommend I go visit the nearest reservation and check out their museum. Not a bad idea really, ‘snot like we’ve gotten any info from anyone else. Plus, I bet they’ve got a casino!”

“That’s not really gonna help us figure anything out.”

“No, but it’ll help me blow off steam. Besides, Ford’ll be suspicious if I suddenly wanna visit a Native American museum. I’m coverin’ my tracks.”

* * *

Thanks to Ford’s photographic memory and stopping to get directions from a passing gnome, the young researcher was able to find their gear and carry it back to Fiddleford’s truck in just a few hours. Retracing his steps brought back memories of their hike, both good and bad. That night around the campfire had been nice, talking about their plans for the future, joking with Stan… but then the next morning, he’d overhead his friends talking behind his back.

“...And while you were on vacation, he kinda implied he wasn't up here alone before you moved in. I think this has been going on for a while. Maybe even years. Did you ever notice anything weird right after you moved in?"

"Other than that creepy triangle symbol everywhere? Not really…"

Ford grit his teeth, and the levitating objects in front of him wobbled. Didn’t they trust him? Even if he couldn’t tell them about Bill, couldn’t they at least understand that he was just doing what he could to further their research? Why did they automatically assume Bill was dangerous?

“...They could have at least asked me…” The researcher muttered under his breath.

“WELL, THEY COULD HAVE, BUT WE BOTH KNOW YOU WOULDN’T HAVE BEEN ABLE TO GIVE THEM A STRAIGHT ANSWER.”

“Bill!” Ford startled in surprise.

“HEYA SIXER, THOUGHT I’D COME KEEP YOU COMPANY WHILE YOU PICK UP AFTER YOUR BROTHER’S MESS.”

“Thank you, Bill, I appreciate it.” Ford smiled gratefully.

“HEY, WHAT ARE FRIENDS FOR! NOT LIKE THOSE JERKS WHO LEFT YOU TO DO THIS ON YOUR OWN.”

“Well, that’s not their fault. They’re both still recovering from the Gremloblin attack yesterday.”

“SO, WHAT’S EATIN’ YA, SIXER? BESIDES YOUR OWN BODY’S METABOLISM SLOWLY BURNING ITSELF OUT.”

Ford sighed. “I just wish I could tell them about you. It’d make things so much easier!”

Bill tisked. “THEIR REACTION TO MY HELP AT THE ALIEN SHIP IS PROOF ENOUGH, THEY JUST WOULDN’T GET IT.”

“But if I had a chance to explain--”

“WE’VE ALREADY DISCUSSED THIS, FORDSY. EVEN IF THEY DO TAKE YOUR EXPLANATION SERIOUSLY AND DON’T THINK YOU’VE FINALLY LOST IT, ARE YOU REALLY NAIVE ENOUGH TO BELIEVE THEY’LL JUST GO ON SUPPORTING YOU? WE BOTH KNOW WHAT STANO’S LIKE WHEN YOU’RE ABOUT TO MOVE ON TO SOMETHING BIGGER AND BETTER. AND FOUR-EYES ALREADY ADMITTED TO YOUR FACE HE’D RATHER BE WORKING ON HIS OWN PROJECTS BACK HOME WITH HIS FAMILY. YOU REALLY THINK HE WOULDN’T TAKE THE FACT THAT YOU’VE GOT ME AS A SIGN HE’S OK TO PACK UP AND HEAD BACK HOME?”

“N-no, he wouldn’t… I still need his help!”

“HMMM, MAYBE YOU’RE RIGHT. MAYBE HE’D HELP HIMSELF TO YOUR PRELIMINARY RESEARCH AND PUBLISH IT HIMSELF FIRST.”

“Fiddleford’s my friend, he wouldn’t do that!”

“OH RIGHT, I FORGOT! YOU TWO ARE SUCH GOOD FRIENDS YOU’D NEVER LIE TO EACH OTHER OR TALK BEHIND THE OTHER’S BACK!”

Ford did not have a good rationalization for that.

“I’M JUST SAYING, STANFORD, BE CAREFUL WHO YOU TRUST!”

* * *

Stan and McGucket were helping themselves to a late lunch when Ford returned with their equipment.

“So you went to the hospital after all.” Ford observed, nodding at Fiddleford’s new cast.

“Oh, yep…” Fiddleford answered. The inventor still seemed anxious and distracted.

“How long did they say you’d need to wear the cast?”

“‘Bout a week…” Fiddleford tapped his foot nervously.

Ford frowned. “I was hoping we’d be able to start connecting the hyperdrive to the portal tonight, but I supposed Stanley could help lift the superstructure.”

“Mmmnope.” Stanley declined. “I’m headin’ out to the casino tonight.”

“What? Why?”

“To gamble, genius, what do you think I’m gonna do at a casino?”

“No, I mean… why do you feel the need to go to a casino?”

“Have a little fun, make a little cash.”

“...Is this because I still haven’t gone grocery shopping?”

“What!? No, for cryin’ out loud, Ford, I just wanna go out and spend a night on the town!”

“On a Wednesday?”

“Yeah, that’s how you beat the crowds! I figure I deserve a break after fighting a monster and getting poisoned!”

“Oh…” Ford deflated. “... that’s fair. But… you’re coming back afterwards, right?”

Stan rolled his eyes. “Don’t worry, your latest specimen isn’t gonna fly the coop.”

Stanford frowned at his brother’s comment, but didn’t offer a retort. Instead he set about fixing his own late lunch. “So yet another day goes by where we make no progress on the portal project.”

“Stanford, I know yer eager to make your mark and get answers, but there really ain’t any reason we can’t take another day or two!” Fiddleford assured him. “There ain’t no ‘Weirdness Rush’ yet.”

“Perhaps, but one thing I’ve learned over the last six years here is that it’s far too easy to get distracted by every little fascinating thing one comes across here. If we don’t stay focused, we could easily keep putting it off until it just never gets done. I prefer to strike while the iron is hot.”

“Well, you keep striking iron, Ford.” Stan waved him off. “Tonight, I’m hopin’ to strike gold!”

* * *

After Stan left, the two scientists spent the night going over calculations and carefully inspecting the hyperdrive. Ford was disappointed they wouldn’t be able to start hooking it up to the mechanics of the portal just yet, but it was the kind of delicate mechanical work he only trusted McGucket with. He wished he had some more manual work to preoccupy his mind tonight. The young researcher had a hard time focusing on his calculations; his mind kept wandering to his brother.

If Stan won the jackpot, he’d be able to support himself. He wouldn’t have any more reason to stay here and work with me… Would he even come back? Would he even bother telling us?

Ford sighed with frustration as he realized he’d just read the same equation three times over. He really needed something to keep his hands occupied while he worked. He reached over to McGucket’s desk for what he often did when he needed something to keep his hands busy, and picked up his friend’s Cubics Cube. He raised an eyebrow when he noticed it still hadn’t been solved since the last time he scrambled it. He’d never seen Fiddleford leave it unsolved for more than a few hours. He glanced over to see the young inventor also seemed to be having trouble focusing on his work.

“You can’t concentrate either?” Ford asked, noticing how Fiddleford’s knee kept up a steady pace of 2 kbps, but his eyes stayed fixed at the top of the page he was supposed to be checking.

Fiddleford startled at his friend’s words. “S-sorry, jus’ tired. Didn’t sleep well last night.”

Ford offered him a sympathetic smile. “I don’t imagine so. I’m sure you’ll be on the mend soon enough though.”

“Mmm.” McGucket hummed noncommittally. “And how ‘bout you, what’s keepin’ you from concentratin’?”

The researcher hemmed and hawed for a moment before he finally settled on an answer. “I suppose I’m a bit concerned with Stanley. I know he’s staying here because he’s got nowhere else to go, and I’m happy to give him a place to stay, but if things go well for him at the casino tonight… why would he stay here if he suddenly acquires the means to support himself?”

McGucket huffed a small chuckle and rolled his eyes. “It’s like I keep tellin’ ya Ford, you oughta be tellin’ him this stuff, and not me! If’n you really want him to stay, then you gotta be honest with him!”

“I-I am!” Ford insisted, willfully ignoring the fact that he was not, in fact, being honest about Bill. That didn’t count. He’d tell Stan if he thought Stan needed to know.

The inventor just rolled his eyes again. “Mama was right, can’t be honest with others if’n ya ain’t honest with yerself first.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

“You know what I mean, ya lost yer temper with me the last time I brought it up!”

Ford scoffed. “I am not under some deluded hope that if Stan stays, it will magically solve our issues.”

Fiddleford nodded. “Yeah, it does seem like you two are past that point. Now you’re just wantin’ to keep him around ‘cuz he’s your brother and you’ll miss him!”

The atmosphere of the room instantly went cold, and the pages of calculations in Fords hands crinkled as his grip tightened. “I would absolutely. Never. Try and keep Stan around. Just because I would miss him.” He enunciated through clenched teeth. “I… I simply… I have his best interests in mind! And the interest of my research! But I’m not trying to keep him here! He’s free to leave! He--he’s free to pursue other interests!”

McGucked raised his hands placatingly. Obviously, he had touched a nerve. “I’m sorry, I misspoke! I jus’ meant to say you care about him is all!”

“Of course I care about him! When was that ever in question!?”

Fiddleford gave him a steady look. “When ya went more than ten years without talkin’ to each other.”

Ford flushed. “It’s not like Stanley ever reached out to me! And I was the one who had a regular address and phone number! How was I supposed to talk to him, when he was always traveling!? Even our mother never got more than the occasional postcard!”

“I’m not sayin’ yer brother’s blameless in this, Ford, I’m jus’ sayin’ you could stand to actually let him know how you feel!”

“I don’t even know how I feel half the time!” The researcher burst. He was stunned by his own words, and took a moment to collect his thoughts and calm down a bit before continuing. “Stanley’s my brother, and he was such an important part of my life growing up. Of course I care about him. But the things he’s done-- the things he still does-- the way he ignores what I want because he thinks he knows best-- it infuriates me! So I suppose you could say my feelings for him are… complicated.”

Fiddleford nodded. “Family’s always complicated.”

Ford scoffed derisively. “This is considerably more complicated than the average family squabble.”

McGucket laughed. “You’re right about that! Well, if it makes ya feel any better, I’m pretty sure Stan ain’t gonna run out on ya tonight, even if he does win it big at that casino. He’s got unfinished business here, after all.”

“That’s an odd way to refer to our continued studies of his powers, but I suppose you’re right.”

* * *

The parking lot for the Warm Springs History Museum was completely empty. Not that the casino lot across the way was packed, but it at least had a few cars parked near the entrance. Stan worried the museum might be closed, but he saw the light was on, and the door was unlocked.

There didn’t appear to be another soul in the building. Stan wandered around from one exhibit to the next, looking for anything that might be related to Ford’s mysterious benefactor. Stan wasn’t really all that surprised that he didn’t find anything. Finally, he rounded a corner and found the gift shop. A teenage girl who was probably supposed to be the cashier sat in front of a small TV. It was clearly supposed to be playing a VHS that the gift shop was trying to sell, but instead an Itira 3600 was hooked up and playing Brick Break.

“Uh, ‘scuse me?” Stan cleared his throat and knocked gently on the counter.

The girl didn’t glance away from the screen, eyes carefully following the bouncing pixel as it broke through another line of bricks. “Yeah I know you’re there I can see your reflection on the screen. We close in like ten minutes, just grab whatever you want and I’ll ring you up once I clear this level.”

“I’m not here to buy anything.”

“Then you better turn around and head back to the casino, ‘cuz bricks ain’t the only thing I can break.”

“I don’t want anything from you either!” Stan assured her, waving his hands innocently. “I just got some questions about, uh, tribal history.”

“That’s what this museum is here for, sir.” She answered flatly.

“The thing I’m askin’ about isn’t in the museum, trust me, I checked.”

“We got history books too.”

“I doubt it’s in there either. Hey, if you’re too busy, is there someone else I can talk to?”

The girl tisked and tilted her game controller. “Yeah yeah, just a sec. I just got one more line at the top.”

Stan rolled his eyes and tapped his fingers on the counter impatiently. He supposed he couldn’t blame the girl. This was probably a very boring job. He knew most people who came this way were probably more interested in the casino, not the history of the people who had to run it just to make ends meet.

The girl finally cleared the level and put her controller down as the new level loaded in. “Ok, what’s your question.”

“Ok, this might sound stupid, but can you tell me more about what this thing is?” Stan pulled a pamphlet off the counter and drew the triangle with the eye. “I think it’s usually yellow?”

The girl raised her eyebrow in surprise when she took in Stan’s drawing. “Oh… that. You don’t see anything about that in here because that’s associated with… I guess the best word for it would be curses?”

Stan’s heart skipped a beat. “R-really? The little research I did on it beforehand said it was associated with knowledge.”

“Yeah, cursed knowledge.” The girl told him. “I’ll admit, I’m not super familiar with it. It’s kinda really ancient. When Nathaniel Northwest swindled us out of our land in Gravity Falls, we were relative newcomers. All the other tribes in the area believed the valley was cursed, because of that thing.”

Stan gulped. “What, uh, what’d it do?”

The girl put on her best storytelling voice. “Well, a thousand years ago, there was an old shaman called Modoc the Wise. He and his people worshipped that being. Until one day, Modoc learned its terrible secret. Modoc warned the people that the being they’d been worshipping was a liar, and that it would lay waste to the valley. But before he could tell them any more, the being drove him mad, and he slaughtered half his tribe before lighting himself on fire to try and stop it!”

Stan paled. “So, uh, this guy’s really bad news, huh?”

“That’s an understatement, but yeah.” The girl nodded. “Why do you want to know, anyway?”

“Uh, I live in Gravity Falls. I’ve just seen this thing on a lot of stuff, wondered what it was.”

“Ah, well, have fun living with the knowledge that your hometown is cursed!” She smiled viciously at him. “Now, it’s closing time. Are you gonna buy something or not?”

* * *

Stan tried to take his mind off things at the casino. His superhuman reflexes made him a whiz at the slots, but he had learned in the past that winning too much tended to draw unwanted attention. Of course, Stan was too busy trying to process what he’d just learned to pay much attention to his gambling, so it’s not like he could have won it big even if he was trying.

After just half-an-hour, it was clear that his heart just wasn’t in it today. Stan decided to play a round of Craps before he left, just to get in some dice rolling. Then he’d head home.

Careful. He warned himself. Don’t go callin’ that place your home. You know the second you get comfortable there is the second Ford decides he doesn’t want you around anymore.

By the time he finished, Stan managed to leave with about $20 more in his pocket than when he came in, so it wasn’t a bad night, gambling-wise. And he had at least learned something about that triangle guy. It just wasn’t good news. The trip certainly wasn’t a loss. So why did Stan feel like he hadn’t gained anything?

These thoughts weighed so heavily on his mind, that he never noticed the eyes on him as he left the casino.

“We’ve found him.” A shadowy figure spoke into his walkie-talkie.

* * *

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katsrnerstories · 3 years

Text

BillDip SlowBurn FanFic Chap. 1

Bill had destroyed Dipper's mind.

It has been a few years since weirdmageddon. Since Dipper and Mabel defeated demons from hellish planes of existence and saved the world and their friends from soul and mind crushing madness.

Dippers a freshman in college now. It was a moment that he had wished for for years. Highschool had been…

Well it wasn't the worst it could have been. Dipper hit a major glow up around the beginning of junior year (with Mabel's help of course) and life was a little easier. He was asked out on dates, went to a few parties here and there that people dragged him to, had some typical highschool fun in the city...

Until around that same time he started getting replies from colleges his senior year, he started to see Bill again. Every once in a while his mind would wander back to that summer, but it was always the good things or nightmares of the horrors they saw.

It started with just a little glimpse here and there. An eye in the back corner of his periphery, some yellow glimpse in a dark room.

A ghostly hand on his shoulder.

But these things were nothing to the first time Dipper realized something was wrong.

Dipper saw Bill in his dreams. And those dreams were beyond nightmares.

He had had nightmares before. Nightmares of weirdmageddon were common for both dipper and Mabel. But these… these were real; as much as a dream could be.

Because of Gravity Falls, Dipper really wasn't afraid of a lot of things that would have scared him. The unknown was comforting to him. Maybe because it wasn't too unknown to him and Mabel.

But bill. During those nightmares, brought everything he feared to the frontlines.

It had been a while since Mabel and him shared a room, so Mabel really didn't know about the fear Dipper experienced those nights.

She was more focused on getting to LA.

She wants to be a criminal psychoanalyst. To look at the minds of people and figure how they tick. Criminals especially.

Dipper could swear that Bill had done something to her to make her go down such a dark career path, but he couldn't say anything; he neither had a psychology degree nor was untouched by Bill himself.

Who really knows, it could have been anything else that happened to her in those hellish four years of highschool.

She had moved away quickly after highschool ended to learn in LA. Of course they facetime and text all the time, but the separation was still felt by both of them.

Everyone missed her presence. Her positivity, her unique personality.

That had transformed into something much darker come junior and senior year. She found out after a few failed boyfriends that she was not only Asexual, but that guys and even girls, can’t seem to give that part of a relationship up. Some even found it offensive that she felt that way.

Dipper went back to oregon. Of course he was in the city, but on weekends he would visit the Mystery Shack and Gravity Falls.

Soos was happy to give him one of the rooms in the basement. Sometimes even Grunkle Stan or Grunkle Ford would visit.

They decided shortly after Dipper and Mabel left that they would travel. Of course Ford's labs still sit under the mystery shack, but when Mabel and Dipper visited Soos the summer of their junior year Ford gave them full control of the labs (as long as Dipper kept everyone safe. Which he did too much annoyance of Mabel)

Soos and his wife at that time had just had a little baby boy, and now have a comfortable four kids, two boys and two girls (three of them were triplets) and run the shack not to much better than Stan did, with the same soul in the campy attractions and overpriced merchandise.

Wendy is in her senior year at a community college in Oregon city, right around the same place Dipper decided to go to school. They hang out pretty regularly, just around weekly.

Robby left gravity falls as soon as he got his GED. Went for New York, looking for a punk career. He sends Wendy emails every once in a while about his music and where he's at.

Shockingly, Pacifica stayed in Oregon, going to the same college Dipper goes to. They see each other, and after leaving her family, she found a lot out about herself and became a much better person.

She found she loved a good smoke and art. Apparently, something she hid from the world was that she loved art. She was probably one of the best artists Dipper had seen. After she left the hell hole of her family, she became really chill. Calm. even nice.

Her and Dipper have coffee pretty much every day. She was one of the only people who also knew what he had gone through.

And she was the only person who noticed as Dipper got worse and worse for wear.

Bill had been particularly evil the past few weeks, taking much more joy in Dippers struggle. Long ago Dipper had just sort of given up on screaming for Bill to stop. But he always refused to make a deal with him to stop the fear. Not again.

“Another nightmare again?” Pacifica asks, as Dipper requests 5 shots of caffeine in his already bitter caffeinated black coffee.

“Yeah. it's getting harder and harder to say no every night. And honestly the empty dorm isn't helping.”

“Why don't you just move in with me? I've got an extra room that's got your name written on the door if you want it.”

Dipper almost accepted, but decided against it. It was kind of weird, no matter how good of friends they were, to live with the ex that made you realized you were gay.

It wasn't her fault, it was just…

He liked a different kind of ass, as Mabel had said when he came out.

No, the daily overpriced coffee meetup was enough.

“Have you talked about it to Ford? Hes got to know something about it if he went through the same thing?”

“I don't want to bother them with it. They thought they got rid of Bill that summer, we all did. Bills my problem now.”

Pacifica gives him a knowing look. She knew that he was breaking, but couldn't figure out how to help him.

“Hows journalism?” Pacifica takes her coffee as she changes the subject.

“As boring as it ever is. Graphic design?”

“As confusing as ever.” Dipper takes a big sip from his steaming coffee. It's a briskly cold morning, enough he brought out his knit set Mabel had made for him on their 18th birthday. He had no shame in wearing it, and it in fact felt comforting today, to know that she was still with him in heart at least.

She never grew out of her sweater thing. She still makes sweaters, using it to get her to the next rent payment sometimes. Everyone can count on a big box with sweaters from her every Christmas here in Oregon.

With their coffees in hand, Dipper and Mabel head off to campus. And once they made it there they said their goodbyes with a hug and went their separate ways to start the day.

Dipper wanders into the lecture hall for his advanced maths class. People filter in as he types away on his computer.

The students around him wanted to be scientists, economists, etc. everyone found it weird that a creative writing major was not only taking advanced maths, this early in the morning, but was killing it. His grades spoke for themselves.

The class starts and Dipper still types away on his computer. He had been bored the night before as he was staving off sleeping and had read a chapter ahead in their textbook. He taught himself the three hour lesson that day in an hour.

It was no doubt that Dipper took after his great uncle Stanford. Grunkle Ford told him at one point that Dipper reminded him of a young Dr. Fiddleford. Dipper didn't really like being compared to the scientist that started a whole cult under Gravity Falls before going batshit crazy himself for a very long time.

He only hoped that he wouldn't end up like him. He didn't want to be some crazy man who roams the town.

Dipper had a story that he needed to finish for his next class. He had started to wear away the stories of Gravity Falls with his creative writing classes that he now had to actually think about what story to write. Mabel helped him out with the premise of the story last night. So he spent that class writing a simple flash fiction of one roaming the backrooms. (an urban legend Mabel had read about in an article somewhere.)

He found comfort in knowing that one thing did not exist to him. That one thing did not sit in the pits of Gravity Falls waiting for Dipper or one of them to unearth it.

The story reminded Dipper of falling through the endless pit just outside the Mystery Shack. A hole where they reminisced on days of the summer as they spent the day, or who knows how long, falling. they were all lucky that it was not, truly, endless.

And quickly the story was finished and the class closed early.

Dipper went for an early lunch. He scrolls through his phone, seeing Mabels three new instagram posts and all the other people she introduced him to.

After Mabel found out Dipper was gay, she went on a mission to hook him up with some LA guy. Oregons not terrible with their acceptance, but it's not something to be very open about. Plus Dipper wasn't the kind to walk pride without someone like Mabel hyping the both of them up. Because god knows that she needs just as much hyping up with who she is as Dipper.

When he walks into his empty apartment, anxiety wells up in Dippers chest. Quickly he turns on the TV, letting it run as white noise as he makes his lunch. The apartment had been empty since his recent relationship ended. Dipper is glad it ended, as the abuse just got too much; yet it was bad for Dipper to be left alone with his thoughts. Especially in an apartment that seemed to hold so much sadness and bad memories.

Mabel, after helping Dippers style, had made him a whole cookbook for him. It had all different kinds of foods, but the main dishes all were healthy. She had gone on a fitness rampage her sophomore year and had never truly grown out of it. It was from a bad place, but she turned it to a positive. As she always does.

She had told him that it was the first thing other than sleep to keep alive longer. She had made him promise that he would try to stay alive.

At this point it was the only thing keeping Dipper alive.

Bill had taxed his mind so much it was rare to find him not paranoid. Bill made Dippers anxiety beyond chronic, and the lack of sleep did not help his depression.

That had developed after Pacifica. It wasn't because of the break up, more at the fact that she had helped him so much.

She had accepted him being gay. She had helped him gain friends during their relationship, and she even helped him when money wasn't the best.

All this caused his anxiety to get to his head.

What if they think I’m evil for breaking it off with her? What if she'll never want to see me again? What if, what if, what if…

His depression had just gotten worse after the breakup and dealing with being alone again. It was the reason Dipper stayed with someone like that for so long.

All of the depression and anxiety ended up crashing down at the same time Bill Cypher ended up crashing into the picture.

At that point Bill only came to terrorise Dipper a few nights a month. It was easier to deal with. Now it's every night.

Dipper finishes making his food, sitting down in front of the TV to watch a show on Netflix.

He had been getting through the true crime shows. He swore that eventually he'd eventually either run a show like it with Mabel or be one of the cold cases lost to the world.

Yet within only a few minutes Dipper not only found himself asleep, but stuck in the mindscape.

“Been trying to avoid me, Pine Tree?”

Dipper no longer was shocked by Bill's voice. In fact the more and more he heard his voice, the more and more it began to sound almost human.

#billdip #gravity falls #whump writing #slow burn #fanfiction #writers #fandom #fanfic #bill x dipper #dipper pines #bill cipher #mabel pines #gravity falls pacifica #adult dipper pines #powerless bill cipher

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portalford · 3 years

Text

Mind and Health (Every Bit of Myself)

AO3

“I can’t believe I finally get to test it! I’m so glad you’re here for this, Fiddleford.” Stanford pauses to scribble in that journal of his before he adds, “I mean, it’s not the main reason you’re here, but it is a bonus!” He snaps the journal shut and beams.

Fiddleford decides not to try and untangle that and just asks a question of his own. “You’ve never tested this thing?”

“Well, on animals, of course.” Stanford starts walking again in that brisk way he has, where Fiddleford has to half-jog to keep up. It’s ridiculous. This house is so small; why is he rushing? “They were successful! Otherwise I wouldn’t bother trying it on myself. Waste of time.”

Stanford pushes open a door and motions Fiddleford inside. “Behold!” He says, flinging an arm out. “The electron carpet!”

It looks very much like the shag rug Fiddleford’s ma used to have.

Fiddleford doesn’t say that. “Very nice,” he says instead.

Stanford lights up even more. “Isn’t it?” He’s got his hands out of his pockets and is twisting his fingers around — his version of uncertainty. “I really can’t tell you how happy I am to finally be able to test this, Fiddleford, and even more so now that you’re here.”

And that’s Stanford saying he’s glad Fiddleford’s here, and not just because of his crazy rug. “Well,” Fiddleford says, knowing better than to make a big deal out of it, “I’m here to help. How do we do it?”

Stanford hustles over to the rug, pacing left and right in his excitement. “It’s very simple! We just walk around on the carpet to build up a static charge, and once there’s enough energy, we touch. The charge will transfer our consciousnesses from one body to the other.”

Of course. Silly of him to ask. “What happens if we touch before the charge is strong enough?”

“Nothing, to the best of my knowledge.” Stanford frowns. “We could test that, if you like.”

Good Lord have mercy on him, because Stanford certainly won’t. “No, I think I’d rather do it the right way.” The right way. To body swap. This was some mad scientist stuff.

Course, Fiddleford’s always figured Stanford as a bit of the mad scientist type. Figures he must have a streak of it himself, too, or else he wouldn’t like Stanford so much.

Stanford’s waving him over. “Let’s go in a circle,” he says. “That way we won’t accidentally bump into each other.”

And all right, Fiddleford’s a little nervous, but he’s got some excited butterflies along with his anxious butterflies.

Body swapping! It’s unbelievable. This is the sort of thing he maybe-sort of missed in California, that madcap brilliance and joy that Stanford brings to everything he does.

They start to move. Stanford’s strung about as tight as Fiddleford feels, mumbling facts and figures under his breath.

Fiddleford starts to wonder when it’s going to happen, are we there yet? over and over like a kid on a car ride.

Stanford stops. “Now,” he says. He holds out his hand. “Always a pleasure to work with you, Mr. McGucket.”

He’s playing, but in a serious sort of way, so Fiddleford matches his tone and says, “Likewise, Mr. Pines,” before taking Stanford’s hand.

It’s like the whole world knocks him flat on his butt.

Actually, it feels like that time he got bulldozed by Sally, the family’s old sow, but with more lightning or something.

“What—” he starts, and stops.

His voice is way too low. Did his vocal cords fry?

He sits up and looks right at his own self.

He looks weird, from this angle (the mirror effect, he knows; your reflection is your face flipped and not your face as you’d actually see it) and is he really that skinny?

He (Stanford?) adjusts his glasses and looks up at Fiddleford. “Incredible!” He says, and his eyes go wide when he hears himself speak.

Fiddleford cracks up, and yeah, that’s Stanford’s laugh coming out of his mouth for sure.

Stanford grins, and that big manic look of his doesn’t quite fit on his borrowed face, but somehow that just makes Fiddleford feel a little easier at heart.

“Well,” Stanford says. He gets to his feet, a little unsteadily. “I never.”

Stanford’s teasing, but two can play at that game.

“This carpet,” Fiddleford says in Stanford’s best lecture voice, and he’d definitely do this too if he could sound half so important, “is powered by unicorn juice, and specifically those unicorns that eat gnomes and—”

“Yes, yes, all right,” Stanford says, and it is a special kind of weird to hear Stanford’s speech patterns in Fiddleford’s voice. “It’s not actually powered by unicorn juice. You know that, right?”

“I don’t know half of what you get up to, t’be completely honest.” Fiddleford cautiously gets to his feet. Stanford’s a bit shorter and far more compact overall than he is, and the lower center of gravity is messing with him.

Stanford’s peering into the mirror across the room. “I wonder if I could play the banjo,” he says. “It’s largely muscle memory, so I’d expect your body to know it even if I don’t.”

“You could certainly try,” Fiddleford says. He steps off the carpet and frowns. “Stanford, did you sleep last night? You feel—”

“I’m getting the banjo!” Stanford’s already out the door, and there’s a stumbling crash down the hall.

"Stanford!” If Fiddleford gets his body back black and blue he’s going to play the banjo every night til eleven for a week.

“Sorry!”

Trust Stanford to literally run from the idea of sleep.

Fiddleford takes his turn in front of the mirror.

It’s a trip, for sure, and he decides to leave it at that.

He does take a moment to inspect his borrowed hands and wiggle the fingers. Stanford’s body is clearly perfectly fine with the extra digits, but Fiddleford’s brain might need a minute or two.

His hands automatically go into his coat pockets when Stanford returns, and Fiddleford’s pretty sure that’s Stanford’s own muscle memory at work.

“Listen to this!” Stanford picks out the opening bars of “Sweet Home Alabama.” It’s clumsy, but not half bad, all things considered. “You seem familiar with this one.”

“It’s one of my thinking songs,” Fiddleford says, “so I can play without really focusing on it.”

“I still don’t know how playing the banjo helps you think,” Stanford says.

Fiddleford shrugs. “You just haven’t got the ear for it.”

“I like my ears too much for it.”

Fiddleford has a thought. “Hang on a minute. We can change back, right?”

“Hm? Oh, yes, of course. You change back the same way you swapped in the first place.” Stanford gives him a wry look. “Had enough of being me?”

“Had enough of your sorry excuse for banjo playing, thank you very much.”

Stanford laughs. “Fair enough.”

“Although playing with six fingers—”

“No, no, that’s not necessary.” Stanford grabs his arm, like he’s about to drag Fiddleford around the way he does, but Fiddleford doesn’t move.

Fiddleford grins. “I’m you, Stanford. I got the muscle in this house now.”

Stanford’s outraged cat-that-just-got-dumped-in-the-tub look is hilarious on Fiddleford’s face. “Seriously?”

“Yep.” Because Fiddleford is a nice guy, he gets back on the rug. Because Fiddleford has always wanted to turn the tables, he hauls Stanford along with him.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you,” Stanford says, and it’s not a question.

“Much more than I anticipated,” Fiddleford says, and it’s the truth.

Swapping bodies is just as unpleasant as it was the first time, but the relief Fiddleford feels when he opens his eyes and sees Stanford across from him is pretty good repayment.

“Stanford?” He asks, just in case.

Stanford uncrosses his eyes and looks at him. “Who?”

Fiddleford’s heart stops for all of two seconds before he catches the grin on Stanford’s face. “Doggonit, Stanford, you’re gonna put me in my grave one of these days and I’ll have to come back as a spirit just to say ‘I told you so’.”

“Nonsense.” Stanford scrambles up and pulls Fiddleford to his feet. “You’re a paragon of health, Fiddleford.”

“Uh huh.” Fiddleford dusts himself off. “Can we go back to the portal now? I think I’ve had enough of this mad scientist stuff to last me a week or two.”

Stanford, predictably, starts lecturing him on how it’s not “mad science,” it’s just “highly experimental science,” which is hogwash if you ask Fiddleford.

If it keeps Stanford away from his banjo, though, he’ll take it.

#gravity falls #gravity falls fanfiction #stanford pines #fiddleford mcgucket #my writing #i've never written for fiddleford before but his southern yeehaw vibes speak directly to my southern yeehaw soul #i really should write these two more they're exactly my kind of so smart they're stupid

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nataliedanovelist · 3 years

Text

GF - How A Star Is Born ch.VII

A Hercules AU, founded by @evaroze, whom this fic is a gift for. I hope y’all like it!

ch.VI - ch.VIII

AO3 link

~~~~~~~~~~

Long ago in the far away land of Ancient Greece, thousands of years ago, back when the world was new and the Planet Earth was down on it’s luck, rather than gods and goddesses rule, brutes and unlawful creatures called Titans ran as they pleased, causing havoc and creating quite a mess.

Among these fearsome creatures was Filbrick, the titan of Rage and War, who had three sons with Caryn, the titan of Lust and Creation. The eldest, Sherman the god of Wisdom and Family, and the twins, Stanford the god of Intelligence and Ingenuity, and Stanley the god of Individuality and Loyalty, were among the first line of descendants from the monstrous titans.

Unlike their parents, they saw the wonder and beauty of Earth and its creatures. Most of all were the mischievous twins, who often left Olympus to explore the planet, and were horrified to find the chaos that reigned and hurt people, all because of their father and many other titans.

Unable to keep their finding secret and unwilling to let their tormented thoughts and feelings go unnoticed, they began asking their fellow gods if they knew of Earth and what they made of it. Their questions were so odd that eventually Filbrick caught wind and began to punish his sons, giving a firm warning to never dare question his judgement.

Stanley, however, could no longer stand idly by as he watched Earth be put through Hell and back every day and continued to try to rise action against this injustice. He gained many followers and it wasn’t long before promises of a rebellion were flying around like crows. Stanford, meanwhile, took a quieter approach and was seeking ways of taking the titans down, searching deep into the Earth for answers.

This, unfortunately, formed a fault between the twins, Stanley accusing his brother of being a coward and Stanford accusing his brother of being reckless and uncaring. Things only became worse when Filbrick heard of his son’s rebellion and decided that enough was enough. But he was as clever as he was evil. He knew if he banished his son that the rebellion would start and Filbrick would be overthrown, so he framed Stanley for treason and every god and titan turned against him.

Stripped of his godhood, Stanley was cursed, his father deciding to tourtue him further by giving him an impossible task. The mortal may have his godhood restored if he can train a true hero, but how on Earth could a screw-up train a hero without killing them first?

Enraged with his father and planning to avenge his brother and save the Earth, Stanford turned to his last resort and called upon the help of a powerful and mysterious god, Bill Cipher. Bill agreed to ensure victory over the titans if Stanford led the rebellion, so for hundreds of years the gods and the titans battled, until at last the gods were victorious and Stanford was made Ruler of the Gods.

As thanks, he appointed Bill Cipher the god of the Underworld and his best friend, Fiddleford, the god of Inspiration, Motivation, and the Messenger of the gods. Thousands of years went by and to ignore the pain of Stanley’s sentence, Stanford grew to pretend he never had a twin and instead focused on his new role as a leader and an aid of intelligence.

His elder brother, Sherman, meanwhile took advantage of his newfound freedom and roamed the Earth quietly for hundreds of years, being his brother’s eyes and ears on the humans. In the process, he met and fell in love with a beautiful, caring woman. Sherman willingly gave up his godhood to marry her and have a family. Stanford was furious, hurt, and confused at first, but then saw his brother’s small family and saw how happy he looked, surrounded by his wife and son, and so Stanford gave his blessing.

Years went by. Sherman’s son would grow up and have a wife, and soon they were expecting children, twins guessing by the amount of kicking the mother was feeling. But a dreadful plague came. It took Sherman and his wife, and soon it infected Stanford’s nephew and his wife. Fearing for family members he had not yet met, Stanford met with the Faiths in the depths of the Underworld and begged for the babies’ to be born with godhood, to somehow miraculously have inherited something good from the six-fingered god.

His pleas were heard. The time came for Stanford’s niece-in-law to give birth. Weak and barely alive, she somehow brought two strong, healthy babies into the world. Mabel, who kicked Stanford in the jaw as she cried. Mason, who was blue with the umbilical cord wrapped around his throat, but the minute Stanford set him free he wailed loudly with good lungs. Their mother died before she could open her eyes to see them, and Stanford’s nephew only lived long enough to look at them and name them, before joining his family in the Underworld.

Stanford was once again conflicted, having lost so much but gained so much in a short amount of time. But he was determined to appreciate the Faiths’ blessing and to never take his family for granted again. A miracle had happened, he had a family.

Now, eighteen years later, he hoped for another miracle that would reunite his broken family.

#gift #gravity falls #fanfiction #gravity falls au #SO SORRY for the late update #but more to come soon!!!

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cosmic-divinity · 3 years

Note

I’m happy to hear you’re doing Fiddauthor drabble requests! If you want to, could you do like a bittersweet moment of college Fidds and Ford where Ford is kinda talking about what happened with the science fair and how Ford misses him but also doesn’t miss him. And like Mcgucket understanding and stuff? If not, that’s supes okay. <3

Of course! I love writing those sweet moments between them with a bit of sad ^^ Thanks for the ask! Prompts are always welcome!

Stanford was quieter than usual. Now, that was mostly how his demeanor was. He thought more inwards, always thinking up stuff in his head while Fiddleford tended to be one to do most of the talking. He remembered how he was when they first moved into a dorm together, finding out they were roommates. Of course, Fiddleford had that natural charm to get anyone to talk, and that was no different for Stanford, but today was...different. No matter how hard he tried, Stanford mostly gave one word answers and kept to reading through books all day at his desk. He’d get up for meal breaks or the bathroom, but that was about it. Now, Fiddleford wasn’t one to pry into other peoples’ business, but he was starting to get concerned now.

As he was finishing up a sandwich, Fiddleford turned in his chair, the one that inevitably squeaked everytime it swiveled, and asked, “What’s up with you today, Stanford? You’re quieter than usual. Something up?”

When all he got was silence for a few seconds, he shrugged and started to turn his chair around when he heard a sigh from Stanford, and he finally turned around to face him. Fiddleford gasped as his eyes were rimmed red and still had a watery sheen to them like he had been trying to hold back tears all day. Once Stanford gave him a nod, he took his hand and led him to the small couch, having Stanford sit down next to him. Stanford did his usual routine when he was stressed of resting his head on Fiddleford’s shoulder, kneading his fingers against his hand. They had grown close over their time here, and Fiddleford was glad to see Stanford trusted him enough to cuddle up to him.

“It’s...well, it’s the day I cut ties with my brother, Stanley. I guess I just have a lot of memories coming back, and I feel conflicted,” he mumbled, snuggling closer to Fiddleford. He tensed when he could remember the exact expression on Stanley’s face. He could practically feel the hurt in his eyes. “You see, he...pretty much ruined my chances at getting into my dream school. Sure, it was going to be far away: on the other side of the country, but it had everything that I wanted. I had a real chance of getting in with my science fair project, and...he went and ruined it, so I had to go to this school instead.” He cleared his throat at that remark since Fiddleford was right next to him. “I mean, I have no regrets on going to this school and meeting you! Meeting you has been one of the greatest moments of my life, but still...I think about how my future could’ve gone, and I get mad both at myself and Stanley. I didn’t talk to him at all after that incident. I kept to my room and my studies and moved out here as soon as I was accepted.”

Fiddleford listened, nodding along from time to time, but not making any sound to interrupt him. Stanford rarely talked about his past like this, and he didn’t want to ruin that. This was a good step forward after all. This school had been one of Fiddleford’s only choices because of the low tuition.

“I still feel conflicted about how it ended up. Sometimes, I feel like I should’ve at least said goodbye to him when I moved out...just something. He’s still my brother, and we were super close as kids, but...that incident just shattered something inside of me. It was my dreams getting crushed inside of me, and it was because of him. I know I’m not ready to see him again. The wound is still fresh but...I dunno. That’s why I end up getting depressed around this date. It’s like my mind will always remember and remind me no matter how much I want to forget,” Stanford said with a sniffle. Even now, it felt like shards of broken glass were moving around in his chest. He glanced up when Fiddleford gave his arm a squeeze, seeing his usual, bright smile.

“Yeah, I understand. It’s tough when someone you really cared about ends up hurting you. You feel betrayed and alone, and you have every right to be mad about it, Stanford. When you’re ready to forgive him, you’ll know. You gotta give yourself time to move on and process, and if you never want to see him again, that’s your choice, but you still sound pretty conflicted about it, so don’t rush into it, okay?” Fiddleford leaned down to kiss his temple softly, knowing that tended to ground him a bit when he was spiraling.

Stanford managed a slight smile and leaned into him more, resting his head against his chest. There were many nights that they spent just doing this: the smell of Fiddleford, the must of the dorm room, and sometimes the night air if it was warm enough to have the window open. There was something about that sweet voice of his that made him feel at ease. It was a voice he could trust, and sometimes, he needed that bit of advice when his mind was in too much of a panic to make it on its own.

“Yeah, I’ll give it time. Thanks, Fiddleford.” With a hint of a blush, he leaned up to peck his lips. “Can we just...stay like this for a bit longer? It’s really calming, and I think that’s exactly what I need right now.”

“Sure, Stanford. We can stay like this for as long as you need. I’m not going anywhere,” Fiddleford assured, combing a hand through his hair methodically. For a long while, the only sounds were their even breathing and the slight rattling of the ten year old ceiling fan.

#gfalls #gravity falls #fiddauthor #ask #drabble #prompt #writing

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bennydwight · 3 years

Text

Bondmates- A FordxOC Oneshot

I’ve never put a story directly onto tumblr before, but I don’t feel right putting this on my fanfiction page until Dakota’s story is fully published, so I suppose I’ll just throw it into the ether here.

Bondmark: A distinguishing mark, feature, or otherwise occurrence for an individual hinting to the identity of their perfect match

~~~

Dakota is nearly twelve when her bondmark manifests; earlier than most, but not unheard of.

She wakes up one morning to see a stripe of swirling colour on the inside of her left wrist, a vortex of tangerine and bright purple, shifting in and out of intensity as the day progresses. She's so excited, and jitteringly nervous too, for some reason, running down to show her parents right away. They say after school they can celebrate!

She's just gotten home from school when the galaxy on her wrist washes deep, deep crimson, and she's hit by a wave of rage so thick and relentless that she's broken three plates before it ebbs. Her parents send her to bed, the celebration cut short.

In the days that follow, her wrist fades to a numb grey, and Dakota sinks into a bone-deep depression.

Her parents take her to see a therapist.

Twenty-five year old Stanford has accepted by now that his bondmark won't manifest.

Logic and studies show that ninety-nine percent of people receive their bondmark before their twentieth birthday, and less than 0.01 of the remaining one percent go through life without their bondmark ever making an appearance. Ford makes peace with that, just another way he's a freak. An outsider.

During a class on calculus, a song gets stuck in Ford's head. It sticks around for hours and all attempts to drown it out are futile.

It takes a week for Ford to realize that the voice in his head isn't one he's ever heard before.

Dakota knows two things about her bondmate:

One - They're emotionally connected somehow.

The colours on her wrist are quickly identified to reflect the feelings of her bondmate, different colours representing different emotions. If he (she assumes it's a he) feels something strongly enough, Dakota will feel it too. She starts to differentiate which are her emotions are which are his by the taste: hers are tasteless, but his leave a sour taste in the back of her throat, like she'd just drank milk.

Her therapist offers a coping solution during her first sessions. Art or music, something to make her happy when his negativity threatens to overwhelm her. She chooses singing.

She's twenty when he starts to respond.

Two - He's slightly stunted, in her opinion.

His deep emotion affects her in a way, but he ever since those first few weeks, he hasn't felt anything deeply at all. But she develops a habit of keeping an eye on the colours shifting on her wrist and singing to match them. In his sadness, she sings brightly, and the cloudy blue on her skin lightens to a more cheery eggshell. When he's anxious, she learns slow, ancient songs in odd languages. In his anger, she sings soothing melodies from her childhood.

She hopes it's because they're a bondmatch, and her mood influences him as well.

Ford knows two things about his bondmate:

One - They're emotionally connected somehow.

He realizes within a week that she knows what he's thinking to some degree. Her songs change to equal or balance what thoughts weigh in his head. During his exams, she sings almost exclusively in Latin, which spurns a desire to learn the language so he knows what she's saying.

He sings back once, his name and age in a simple melody, to see if they are a bondmatch, but she doesn't respond. That's alright, he tells himself, bondmatches happen once in every five hundred thousand. He's just happy to have a bond at all.

Two - She's an alto.

If her screechy attempts at a high C are any indicator. Fiddleford gets very concerned one day after he right near jumps out of his skin at the murderous scream resounding through his skull.

His initial annoyance vanishes under the next line, as she sings about how awful that note was to the original tune of the song.

He smiles for real for the first time in what seems like forever.

Fiddleford gives him an odd look, but doesn't press further, and Ford is grateful for it.

Dakota's bondmate is more frustrated than normal today.

The mark on her wrist has been a steady, dulled burgundy all morning, and the back of her mouth stings under the sour taste of his emotion.

She tries singing something to cheer herself up, a German celebratory song with a catchy chorus.

The taste in her mouth intensifies, and her mark is shot through with an angrier, burnt rust as his frustration turns to outright irritation.

She stops singing. It's not making her feel better anyway.

Ford can't concentrate.

This quantum mechanics test has been the hardest he's ever encountered thus far, and he pulled an all-nighter to study. Sleepless, running on coffee, and nerves about the test are bad enough.

Halfway through question three, his bondmate starts singing something raucous.

On any other day, Ford might meet the cheerful tune with a smile, but he's trying to focus. The moment he's sure he'll have an outburst if she continues any longer, she stops.

The test is over in an hour, but she doesn't sing again for the rest of the day.

Dakota is finding more and more recently that her bondmate is keeping odd hours.

She wakes up at three AM to find her wrist vibrating in swirls of thrilled lemon and inspired peach. His anticipation is tangible. What's got him so excited so late?

She sings softly, trying to lift her own spirits, but she can't stop the unwelcome thought. What if someone else is making him so excited so late?

The notes are cheerful, but the words are melancholy.

Ford glances up from the chess board as lilting notes drift across his mindscape in an odd, echoing quality. His partner notices his grin, gaze shifting upwards to follow Ford's, though the song seems to emanate from the very essence of the vast expanse of Ford's mind. "What's that?"

"My bondmate." Ford is pleased she's up so late, his friend has never yet gotten the pleasure of hearing one of her songs. She's picked a good one, and it serves to lift Ford's already bright mood.

"Oh yeah, that old ritual." Bill moves his pawn. "Seems a little distracting, don't you think?"

Ford looks to the 'sky', his smile fading. Maybe it is...

Dakota hasn't slept well in months.

What started as a few odd days, wrist fading to colours she's never seen him experience, turns into weeks of deepening anxiety, marked by tangerine spots so intense they're almost white, and an ugly charcoal gray. She gets twitchy and restless, like there's something she should be doing. The taste of his emotion starts small, but eventually she can't stand most food for the sour taste in her mouth.

She knows these feelings aren't hers, but it doesn't make falling asleep any easier.

She sings herself French lullabies, but they don't help her much.

Ford has to find a way to stop him.

Ford doesn't have a way to stop him.

Ford can't fall asleep until he finds a way to stop him!

His bondmate has other ideas. Her soft voice cuts through the mess of paranoia and fear in his brain, stilling his thoughts. No! He can't stop! No matter how tired his eyes are, or how comforting her voice is...

Ford falls asleep to foreign lullabies -

"Well, what do you know! Your better half is good for something after all!"

- And wakes up to three fractured ribs and forearms scored with hundreds of leaking cuts.

Dakota is at a conference when she first feels it.

The first surge of terror is brushed off, she's used to it by now, though she does still worry about her bondmate. But the anger that follows, so blood red it practically glows, prompts her to leave the conference hall and seek a secluded corner where the chances of her breaking something reduced drastically. He hasn't been healthy for a long time, but this time it's different.

Something is wrong.

She stares at her wrist, in its pulsing reds, and downs the rest of her champagne to try to rid herself of his sour taste. It's all she can do to stand there and feel.

Something sparks on the stripe of colour, a tiny burst of the darkest gray she'd ever seen. Rapidly, the gray overcomes the blood, and Dakota is struck by a panic that reverberates to the very core of her being.

Something is wrong!

It's brief, but the sheer scope makes it seem like the shock is drawn out forever.

Then, nothing.

It's as if the air conditioner has been shut off, and you find yourself in a house that's deafeningly silent. A constant, gentle stream of emotion Dakota has felt since she was eleven ebbed in an instant. She feels some horrific being has reached down her throat and yanked out her very core, leaving her nothing but a hollow shell.

Her boss finds her some time later, in the fetal position against the wall.

Somewhere, somehow, she registers the stripe on her wrist has gone completely black.

Ford doesn't have much time to think the moment he enters the nightmare realm. Survival takes precedence.

He's occupied for the next standard week trying to devise a way to defeat Bill.

It takes him a month before he has enough downtime to realize he hasn't heard singing once since he became trapped.

It takes him another three years to come to terms with the fact that he'll never hear her again.

He wants so badly to quietly break down somewhere. If Bill finds him, so be it. But he quashes the impulse. He has work to do.

Dakota doesn't sing for years after her bond dies.

She started singing to cope with his feelings, and now there's no reason to.

Ford turns and leaves without a word.

The hospitable Urarians are confused. Why would the best choir on the planet cause their guest to react this way?

Thirty years pass.

Dakota is humming tunelessly as she cooks bacon, but her breath stops as her chest explodes in anger.

The force causes her to stumble, grasping the counter for balance. Saliva gathers in her mouth to combat the sudden sour sensation. She can barely breathe for the rage, eyesight going blurry.

And then she can't breathe for the tears.

Because the stripe on her wrist is glaring blessed crimson.

Thirty years and a day pass.

Ford lays down on the couch, arm covering his eyes. He's back. He's back.

Somewhere, a song comes on, and Ford is just about to shout at Stanley to turn the radio down when his chest constricts.

The voice is in his head.

After thirty years of silence, he can no longer contain his sobs, but his grief pales in comparison to his pure relief.

She's back. She's back.

Dakota lowers her hand. "My wrist changes colours with what he's feeling."

They peer closely at the gentle pink etched onto her skin, just a shade grayer than her usual complexion. She smiles at their interest. Neither of the twins have their bondmark yet, and Mabel was practically bursting with excitement at meeting someone whose mark was physical. She'd asked to see it nearly as soon as Dakota sat down. Bondmarks are precious to some people, but Dakota has never been shy about sharing hers.

"How do you know what he's feeling?" Dipper asked, one hand on his chin. So much like his great uncle.

"Lots of practice," she answers. "This pink colour shows up when he's generally content. And see this?" She points to an olive streak slowly circling the perimeter of the mark. "He's a little under the weather right now, but it's small enough that it's only at the back of his mind and doesn't bother him much."

"And you can feel him, too?" Mabel asks, her grin like the sun.

Dakota laughs at her enthusiasm. "Only sometimes."

Dipper and Mabel perk up for a second, eyes darting deeper into the Mystery Shack, but Dakota is distracted. "Ah! See that?" The twins turn back just in time to see the blood orange starburst fade back into dusty pink. "He just got annoyed at something. But now he's okay again."

The twins make joined impressed sounds. Dipper looks at her with those huge doe-eyes of his. "It must have taken a long time to learn everything he's feeling."

"It did. But he's worth it."

Ford catches the sneeze in one fist, but it jerks the rest of his body enough to startle Mable. She turns from where she sits on the floor, knitting in her lap and back pressed against Ford's shins, and gives him a look. "Are you getting sick, Grunkle Ford?"

He sniffles. As much as he hates to admit it, but he can't lie to that face. "Maybe a little. But it's not too bad. I hardly notice it."

The frantic pen scratching on Ford's right stills. "Would you say you're a little under the weather, but it's small enough that it's only at the back of your mind?"

Dipper's words elicit a little gasp from Mabel, and he looks back and forth between the twins, blinking in confusion. Dipper stares back with a raised eyebrow, and if Mabel smiles any wider her head will split in half.

"Er, yes, that's a concise way of putting it. Why?"

Dipper goes back to scribbling in his journal, but a ghost of a smile haunts his face now. "No reason."

Ford looks to Mabel. She's turned back to the tv, but there's an excited pull to her shoulders. In a brief moment between commercials, when the screen goes dark, Ford catches her reflection and her grin has not faltered one bit.

Dakota can hardly breathe for the claws wrapped around her waist, trapping her arms against her chest. She tries to stay calm. Wild animals could sense panic, and she's no troll expert, but she didn't doubt the hulking beast could sense something from her. The stripe on her wrist swirls charcoal, a colour she's barely seen since the incident thirty years prior, and she wonders if her own fear is feeding back to her bondmate.

She whispers a silent apology to him, wherever he may be.

The troll opens its mouth to drop her inside, but Ford bursts from behind a stalagmite, blaster raised. "Let her go, you hairy heathen!"

She can feel the resonating determination pulse through her chest, and by chance she glances at her wrist again. The charcoal ripples outwards, arcing through with rings of rich wine. Ford fires once, twice, at the beast, and Dakota is so transfixed by the spreading wine colour that she doesn't feel herself falling until she's hit the ground.

The troll retreats, whining, and Ford makes sure it's gone before rushing to her side, hands hovering over her. Never actually touching her. "Are you alright? Is anything hurt?"

She can't answer. Can't do anything other than stare at her wrist. The stripe is shot through with mist and gold.

"Dakota, answer me!"

She says she's fine, smiling to reassure him, but she can't ignore the rapid beat of her heart. When he verifies her safety for himself, she asks. "Ford, what are you feeling right now?"

Though initially taken aback, Ford recovers quickly with a soft smile. "Relieved."

The gentle lavender on her skin proves it.

Ford has a lot of catching up to do in terms of music, and Dakota seems to be the right person to help with that, but he finds himself bashful when she asks his favourite songs since so many of them are out of date.

They spend an afternoon not monster hunting, as usual, but sitting in his parlour with a laptop, taking turns showing each other songs. He feels a little better with his music choice after Dakota reveals her own odd tastes in foreign music.

He feels like he's heard some of them before.

Dakota stares at the gentle pattern of dusty pink and brighter rose on the inside of her wrist. She's found her bondmate, she thinks. But he hasn't given one clue as to whether she's his too. Or not. Or even if he has a bondmark. It's an unspoken rule that one doesn't ask about another's bondmark unless the information is supplied willingly, and Dakota hates the thought of relinquishing her budding relationship with Ford because she's impulsive. He might not even have a bondmark.

If he doesn't, that's fine.

She doesn't want to think about the other option.

Ford settles into bed with a happy sigh, ready for the evening end. It has been an increasingly delightful part of his day, as he finds his bondmate has been singing some of his favourites every night. He wonders if she has a connection to his music too, or if it's just a common interest. Either way, being lulled to sleep by those songs has become something to look forward to, and it's been a consistent concerto every night for nearly two weeks.

He shifts under the covers, closing his eyes.

But sleep doesn't come.

Because neither does her singing.

Dakota is hyperaware of Ford's presence next to hers as the Pines family (plus her, plus Mabel's friends, plus the handyman and the cashier) participates in their weekly movie night. She can't concentrate on the movie, too focused on her wrist and the uneven pulses of navy blue and slate.

She leans over and whispers, "Ford, what are you feeling right now?"

He thinks about it for a moment before answering.

She wonders why he's lying.

Ford can't concentrate on the movie.

Another week without a peep from his bondmate has sent him into a deep-seated worry. Has something happened? Is she okay? Not knowing is driving him to madness.

When Dakota leans over and whispers the query, he doesn't question it. She's been asking it periodically for a few weeks now, and he's chalked it up to nothing more than a new habit. She's staring at him with an expression he can't place, rubbing one thumb up and down the stripe of colour on her wrist. It seems active, but Ford can't tell what colours burst forth from her skin in this light.

He's often wondered at her bondmate. He doesn't know what the colours represent, but he knows they're very important to her. He's caught her staring steadfastedly at her wrist for minutes at a time, but hasn't asked. She may just not have found hers yet. Or, a more unpleasant possibility, she might be harbouring a dead bond.

His time in the portal flows back to him. He wouldn't wish a dead bond on anyone.

But he can't assume, so best to keep away from touchy subjects. He gives her the best smile he can muster. "Happy and content."

Her face makes him regret lying.

Dakota can find only one explanation for this.

The unthinkable has happened, and her bondmark is unrequited.

It's rare, rarer even than bondmatches, but occasionally a person manifests a bondmark towards a person who does not reciprocate. It's awful, its psychologically damaging, but Dakota has lasted this long without her bondmate and she can continue doing so. She's lucky enough to know him well as a friend, and cares about him enough not to bring up the fact of her bondmark, and if he finds happiness in the end isn't that all a bondmate could ask for?

She convinces herself of this, convinces herself she feels better, but not even every song in the world could make her feel better. So she doesn't try.

Ford is so distracted by his mounting worry that he doesn't even realize it's raining until his glasses are coated in fat, wet drops.

Next to him, Dakota shrieks, though he thinks it may be in delight. He's glad. There was a period of time where they barely saw each other, and when they did, Dakota seemed more subdued than normal. But whatever is plaguing her seems to be wearing off, and he's immensely glad. He's missed his friend.

Just like he misses his bondmate.

She hasn't sung to him in over a week. There have been silences before, but never this... heavy.

He and Dakota rush into the Mystery Shack, sopping wet and laughing, though Ford worries his sounds slightly flat. If Dakota notices it, she doesn't mention it.

She tosses her camera bag on the table, then heads upstairs to shower off the downpour. Ford smiles until she vanishes, then lets it drop. He likes Dakota, but not even her company in monster hunting can replace the comfort he never realized he got from his bondmate's songs.

Dakota starts singing from upstairs, and Ford frowns. Slaps the side of his head with one hand, metal plate giving a dull clang as he does. It sounds like he's hearing two slightly different variations on the same song. Is he picking up interference...?

His heart stops.

No.

But yes.

He's in the Mystery Shack gift shop before he can realize his legs are moving, out of earshot from the upstairs shower. He knows the song that's being sung, knows where in the verse Dakota should be, matching up perfectly to the version he hears in his head.

It matches.

His legs are moving again, thudding rapidly up the stairs to pound on the bathroom door. He feels like he's going to laugh, or cry, or throw up.

Dakota opens the door in her shorts and tank top, still drenched in rainwater, the steam from the shower rising up and framing her like an angel walking out of heaven's clouds. Her left arm rests on the door, giving Ford a perfect view of the churning colours on her skin.

It looks exactly how Ford feels.

END

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