And here's my second request for day 6 of Fiddauthor fest! Coming from NinetyWrites (on AO3): For the request- could you write something with the infamous, heart-shattering, feels-inducing scene from Tale of Two Stans (we all know the one)? I think it'd be neat to see your take on it.
Hopefully this goes well, I've been writing nothing but fluff all week, but now it's time to bring out the angst! I tried to put the scenes from Tale of Two Stans, the Last Mablecorn and even some unused storyboards I've seen circling tumblr to make this triple the angst so hopefully it worked!
(PS I'm still happy to take requests so don't feel shy about sending in any prompts you'd like to see me write! I've got a bit of a wait till my copy of the Journal comes in. (or I cave and just read all the spoilers already on Tumblr))
Day 6: Request 2
Everything had gone wrong. It wasn't supposed to be like this. It was an accident. A perfectly normal, human accident. Yet it still happened and Stanford could only watch helplessly as his best friend, his partner was dragged head-first into the portal that they both built together.
Ford was pulling with all his might and still Fiddleford's head stayed within the swirling vortex. "I got you, Buddy!" He tried shouting over the portal and he kept pulling. But it didn't seem to do anything. Oh god, what if when he pulled Fiddleford back he didn't have a head?
His arms felt like they were screaming. They wouldn't hold on for much longer. Oh god, his hands were slipping. He couldn't loose Fiddleford! Please god, don't let him loose him like this!
All at once the Portal's electric blue grew brighter and brighter to the point where he had to shield his eyes. Then he felt his rope slacken. And Fiddlford was sent crashing back out of the vortex and tumbling across the ground.
Stanford scrambled over to him. "Fiddleford! Are you alright? What did you see?... Fiddleford?"
His head was fully intact, thank god! And his body appeared unhurt. But he seemed to be in some sort of... trance-like state. His eyes were blown wide, looking up above at nothing, his mouth gaping in shock and his body was limp and motionless, almost like the time he'd been captured by the Gremoblin. But this wasn't another Gremoblin. This wasn't anything from Gravity Falls or this world! What had Fiddleford seen? What had done this to his partner, his Fiddleford? Was he even still here?
Ford didn't even know what he could do. What was causing this problem? Or how could he fix this? He couldn't do anything. Stanford assumed that all of Fiddleford had come back through the portal but what if he had left something even more vital than his physical body behind? Now gone forever in the Portal with ever-changing destinations.
"Fiddleford? Fiddleford, can you hear me?" He brought a shaky hand to Fiddleford's cheek. But Fiddleford just kept staring out into space, to a world Stanford couldn't see. Dead to this one.
"Fiddleford please! Please come back!" Carefully, he pulled Fiddleford up off the ground and into his lap, hugging him close. "Fiddleford please don't be gone. I'm begging you."
All at once memories came and flashed through his mind. Years ago when they first met, shaking hands and for the first time in Stanford's life no one had immediately judged him. Laughing and singing made-up songs while playing D, D & more D. Studying side-by-side, the soft lamp light almost making Fiddleford look angelic. Fiddleford hard at work in the campus workshop, sparks flying all around him as he wielded together beautiful machines. Fiddleford's exasperation, insisting Stanford put on safety gloves and goggles while in the lab. Fiddleford smiling and teasing Stanford when he got a higher grade-point average for their final exams. Fiddleford softly playing his banjo in the dead of night, with only Ford as his audience. Fiddleford's hands combing softly through his hair and kissing him on the lips. Fiddleford's laugh. Fiddleford's smile. Fiddleford's voice.
It all seemed so bitterly stark in contrast to see Fiddleford the way he was now. Silent, almost green with paleness in the portal's light, terrified with shock and mentally trapped in some other world. And all because of him. What if he never came out of this shock? What if he never saw Fiddleford's eyes focus, never heard his voice ever again?
There was nothing Stanford could do but hold Fiddleford close, and pray to Bill and any higher power in the world that they didn't take Fiddleford away. Please, don't take Fiddleford away from him.
Stanford didn't know how long he sat there. When suddenly, Fiddleford's breath picked up tremendously and he gasped for air. Fighting out of Stanford's grasp like a mad man. Stanford's arms stung from the blows but he set Fiddleford back on the ground.
The way Fiddleford acted, he kept his arms pinned tensely at his sides as if they were tied there, and his neck was craned, desperate to look at something Stanford couldn't see.
Ford crawled over to him. "Fiddleford! Tell me! Is it working? What did you see?"
He tried to bring a hand to Fiddleford's cheek but he flinched away like some wounded animal. He began speaking some sort of gibberish and his whole body was wrecked with shivers.
"Fiddleford what-"
Before he could continue, Fiddleford began talking, seemingly to no one in the corner of the room. But his voice sounded forced, like he had been possessed and something was trying to speak through him.
"When gravity falls and earth becomes sky,
fear the beast with just one eye."
"Fiddleford get a hold of yourself! You aren't making any sense!"
Then Fiddleford's eyes finally came back into focus. And he turned back towards Stanford. When he spoke, he finally sounded like himself but his voice sounded furious, hurt and terrified all at once.
"This machine of is dangerous. You'll bring about the end of the world with this! Destroy it before it destroys us all!"
Stanford couldn't. "Fiddleford! I can't destroy this! This is my life's work!" Everything he and Bill had worked for... Bill would of never tricked him, right? "Fiddleford please! Whatever you saw on the other side of the portal. It couldn't be real. My friend... He'd never lie to me."
"Your friend?" Fiddleford looked at him long and hard, like he was ready to deck him. "Stanford where are all these ideas coming from! Who are you working with!"
"Fiddleford please! Just calm down! You-You're just suffering from dimensional travel sickness."
All at once, Fiddleford abandoned his meek shivering and pounced at Stanford, grabbing him by his coat and shaking him roughly. He screamed in his face with a fury Ford never knew he could possess. "You're the one with the sickness!"
Realizing what he'd done, he released Stanford and nearly collapsed onto the ground, barely holding himself up with trembling arms. "I... I fear we've released a grave danger on the world. One I'd just as soon forget..."
He got up and walked away, not even looking down at Stanford. "I quit!"
"Fiddleford wait!"
But Fiddleford kept walking, only one shoe on his foot, hair frazzled, not saying another word and never turning back.
"Fine! I'll do it without you!" Fiddleford refused to acknowledge him. This couldn't be happening. Ford felt himself shake with rage as he got up off the cold ground. "I don't need you! I don't need anyone!"
Hey there! Sorry these prompts are late again :P but for Yesterday's prompt of "gift exchange" I decided to take any requests! (And since I might not get the journal for a while, I'm still open to any requests, so send in as many as you like either through Tumblr or AO3!)
For the day 6 QOTD: It's impossible for me to pick just one! I think I’ll have to make a longlist of artwork and fic recs to get everyone’s amazing art and stories down!
My first request is from VolunteerFieryDantooinian (on AO3): For a prompt, maybe a sickfic-y thing where ford comes down with something (fairly minor, at least at first.) and tries to hide it from fidds, he ends up passing out or something, lots of fluffy stuff.
Hope this doesn’t disappoint!
Day 6: Request 1
Ford tried to stifle yet another sneeze into the elbow of his coat, but even then the obnoxious sound echoed all throughout the labs. And once again, Fiddleford looked up from his work with some scrutiny and concern and said "Bless you." For probably the billionth time within the hour. This time though, he finally worked up the courage, or maybe the annoyance, to ask.
"Stanford, are ya sure you're feeling alright?"
"No, no I'm fine."
Fiddleford raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "You sound real congested now. You could probably take a break to get something for your nose."
"I swear Fiddleford it's just allergies, nothing I can't work around. I'll be fine."
"... Ok Stanford." Doubt was painfully clear in Fiddleford's voice but at least he had relented once more.
This had been going on all day, ever since he and Fiddleford got back from a field study. He had been fine while they were out, nothing out of the ordinary that Stanford could remember, but now that they were back inside Ford's nose wouldn't stop running, and the back of his throat began to feel inflamed and raw. But Stanford knew he would be fine. He'd dealt with much worse things on his own while studying the wildlife of Gravity Falls than a little runny nose and a sore throat. By the tomorrow he'd probably be fine. Fiddleford was just over reacting.
At least that's what he kept telling himself. All the while trying to ignore his nose, his throat and the rising heat of his face and hands. He had equations to finish after all, and the sooner all these formulas were perfected down to the smallest integers, the sooner they could begin actually putting the Portal together.
So Stanford ignored the growing discomforts all over his body and powered though, quadruple-checking all his math work. No matter how much his nose or throat would bother him, he refused to get up and leave his work half-finished. At some point his sight became tunneled and foggy like he was drunk. But still he tried to focus on the numbers swimming around him. He heard Fiddleford say something but he sounded so far away. Had he left and gone into another room?
When Stanford looked up from his work to figure out where Fiddleford was, his ears rang painfully and a headache began pulsing around his eyes. Through his weakening vision, he could see Fiddleford gasping at him, he looked terrified. He started running over but Stanford had little time to comprehend it before he realized he was slipping out of his chair and everything went dark.
When he woke up, he was on his back and everything felt so heavy. His eyelids, the pressure in his sinuses, the extra weight in his arms and legs. When he finally worked his eyes open he realized he was on the couch in the living room, and a think quilt and some weird pillows had been wrapped around him snugly. He tried to move his arms only to realize those pillows were much denser than he thought. They might of been filled with rice but with the state Stanford was in they might as well be filled with bricks.
Before he could try squirming out from under everything he saw Fiddleford come into the room. He leaned over and ran a hand over Ford's forehead and hair.
"How you feeling, hun?"
"Fine." Stanford rasped out, surprised by how painfully dry his throat had become while he slept."I love you Fiddleford, but I think you're going a bit over-board here."
Fiddleford kept running his hand through his hair. "I swear to god Stanford Pines, you're either the worst liar alive or you the smartest idiot ever to be in such denial." It was strange how words so insulting still managed to sound so sweet coming from Fiddleford. He pressed a small kiss to his forehead before getting up. "I'll go get you something to drink."
Again while he was gone, Stanford tried to get his arms out from under the quilt and pillows, he only managed to dislodge a few of the pillows before Fiddleford came back and caught him in the act.
He went about putting the pillows back in place, ruining all of Stanford's progress. "Hey! You stop that!"
"Honestly Fiddleford, you're treating me like I'm dying or something. At least let me have my hands!"
Fiddleford glared at him before sighing and moving a few pillows out of the way. "Fine... But if you try getting up again, I swear to high heavens I will tie you down!"
"Wait, what do you mean by again?" Stanford struggled to sit up straight.
As Fiddleford helped prop him up he shot him a look. "You don't remember? Maybe an hour ago, you woke up in a whole panic. You tried to go back down to the labs and almost tripped down the stairwell."
"I- I don't remember any of that." What was happening to him? Was he really forgetting? Or maybe it had possibly been Bill?
"I wouldn't worry about it. You're tired and probably a little delirious. It'll come back to you once you get some more rest. Here, drink this for your throat."
Fiddleford handed him a tiny cup and he drank it without thinking. But he almost spit it out when the taste fully hit him. Why did cough medicine always have to taste so awful? Next Fiddleford handed him a cool glass of water and Stanford greedily drank it, trying to cool the heat in his throat and wash away the awful taste in his mouth.
"Hun, you may want to go easy on the water there, don't want ya getting queasy again." When Ford had a blank look, Fiddleford frowned. "You don't remember that either do you?"
Stanford shook his head no. "I... I can't remember anything! What's happening to me?" Maybe he was in worse condition than he realized.
Fiddleford gently took the glass out of Ford's hands and kept a steady hold on him. "Hey, hey! Don't worry about it! You're real tired right now and you may have been half-asleep still in those last few fits. But you'll be ok, and I'll be right here." He patted Stanford's hands as he relaxed a little again.
"Why don't you try sleeping a bit longer. And maybe if your feeling better later you can have some of my Ma's stew I'm cooking up. It's an old family recipe, guaranteed to help cure any flu, flem or hex." Stanford couldn't smell it cause of his nose, but he could vaguely feel some steam coming from the kitchen wafting throughout the living room. It probably smelled wonderful.
He started to lie back down while Fiddleford went about propping pillows around him and tucking that stupid quilt back around his arms. "That's it. Just take it easy, Stanford."
Ford hated to admit how easily he could fall back asleep right now. But even with an exhausted mind he tried retracing his memories trying to find all the missing pieces Fiddleford had mentioned. He still hated the idea that there were things he couldn't remember. Only one memory came back to him. Just before he passed out in the labs, Fiddleford had looked so terrified. If Stanford's stomach wasn't already so ill it probably would of twisted with sudden guilt.
"M'sorry." He mumbled, trying to speak before he passed out again. "M'sorry for scaring you Fidds."
"Oh darlin'." Fiddleford sigh, bringing a hand back up to Stanford's forehead and hair. "You know I forgive ya. But you really should be more careful. I know you care a lot about this project, but you gotta look after yourself too. Now get some more sleep, you'll feel better I promise."
"I love you." Stanford tried to say. He wasn't fully sure if the words got out of his mouth but his eyes were fluttering shut and he couldn't stop them. But just before he fully went unconscious, he swore he could hear Fiddleford softly saying back.
I’m taking fiddauthor requests for the last(?) day, so if anyone has any fiddauthor requests they’d like filled out by moi, now’s your chance! send me an ask, message me, reply on this post, whatever you’d like!
Now here's day five! And goodness, we're almost done with the week now. Just two days left. Luckily though, for those last two prompts they're allowed to be much later for whenever people get the book. I am so excited for the journals tomorrow!
For today's QOTD, I feel like Fidds ends up being a lab rat often unintentionally by Ford wether it be circumstances or Ford juts being oblivious. Plus the fact that he has had much less experience in Gravity Falls and all its monsters. And while Ford can become so overly focused on his research he does try to look out for him. Ford always feels awful if something happens to Fiddleford while exploring and tries to make it up to him when he can, even if it’s just medical treatment and moral support.
Day 5: Supernatural/Science
Nervously, Stanford stepped into the house. He hated leaving Fiddleford home alone when he was still hurt like this but he rationalized that this was something that needed to be done. After stopping in the kitchen to put down all the food and supplies from town, he peeked into the living room. Fiddlford was still passed out on the couch. Even in his sleep there were dark bags under his eyes and Stanford couldn't help but notice how he was curled up in himself in his sleep, especially around his casted arm.
Every time Ford saw that arm casted and in a sling he couldn't help but be grimly reminded of how it was his fault that he was hurt. They had been coming back from the space craft when Stanford accidentally woke up an awfully territorial part-bear part-squid monster. It had charged at them and only Ford got out of the way in time, it sent poor Fiddleford flying across the forest. That horrible crack still haunted Ford when Fiddleford collided with a tree and fell to the ground with a weak cry.
That had been about a week ago and Fiddleford had barely left the house since then. He'd also become so nervous too, jumping at the slightest noises or movements. He'd barely slept or worked at all and Ford was worried. He hated to see Fiddleford like this, and he hated to think that Gravity Falls, a place he loved so much, had become something that terrified one of the people he cared about most in the entire world.
Stanford hoped that today he could try and help Fiddleford more. As he had gone into town to get some much-needed supplies, he'd stopped down by a cave network where he'd become familiar with several different colonies of creatures who lived in there. While he unpacked his bags and put stuff away a box sat on the counter, covered in a towel to ensure that very little light could get inside it.
He was almost done putting away groceries when he heard a shuffling noise and Fiddleford's tired voice came out from the living room.
"Stanford? Is that you?"
Stanford hurried to put the last few things into the fridge before leaning into the other room.
"Yes. How are you feeling?"
"Not great but a little better than this morning." Fiddleford yawned rubbing his eyes. "How long was I out?"
"I'm not quiet sure, but you were sleeping when I came in. Do you want anything? I just got back from the store, and they had those soups you like."
"Naw, maybe later. Not feeling too hungry right now."
Fiddleford hadn't felt hungry this whole week.
"Ok. Uh, I hope you don't mind but I had invited over a few, ummm, a few friends of mine."
"Stanford," Fiddleford began rather grumpily, "I've been here for three months now and I know for a fact you barely speak to anyone from town."
"They aren't from town."
Fiddleford's reaction was almost instant and Ford hurried to continue before Fiddleford got any more distressed.
"I've known them for several years now. I promise you, they are very friendly and would never hurt anyone without a legitimate reason. I told them about what happened and they were worried about you. They actually wanted to meet you, if you're ok with that of course."
Fiddleford ran his good hand through his hair.
"Stanford, they sound sweet and all. But I'm not presentable for any company..."
"I can assure you they wouldn't mind. But you can change if you prefer."
Fiddleford sighed, then pulled himself off of the couch with some effort. "Ok... Ok, just give me a few minutes to go make myself presentable."
"Of course, Fiddleford."
As Fiddleford left to go get ready, Stanford went about prepping the living room for their guests. Every window's curtains were pulled shut, even taped and pinned to make sure no outside light got into the house. And for now, the lights were put to their dimmest setting though later they would all have to be turned off. He brought the covered box into the living room and set it onto the coffee table.
When Fiddleford got back, his hair was combed and he was wearing a different shirt. He sat back down, looking at the box like it held a ticking time bomb.
"Stanford, are you sure this is a good idea?"
"I promise you Fiddleford, nothing will go wrong. And I'll be right here. You still want to do this?"
Taking a deep breath Fiddleford nodded and tried to relax in his seat. "Yes."
"Ok, let me just get the lights. Their eyes can be highly sensitive."
Fiddleford couldn't help but jump as Stanford turned off the lights. The whole room was pitch black now. Ford hand came back and clasped his own. And he could hear the box being opened.
Vibrant neon lights floated up out of the box and illuminated the room. When Fiddleford squinted to get a better look at them he realized those lights were-
"Fairies?" Fiddleford breathed, unable to hide an air of wonder form his voice.
"They're a nocturnal subspecies that live in a unique cave network near the gnome's territory. I theorize that they developed a bioluminescence from living in such a dark environment, much like many creatures in the abyss-levels of the ocean." Stanford answered easily falling into that teacher voice he always used when showing his discoveries to others. "And despite living in an isolated area by day, they are actually quiet welcoming towards strangers."
"They're beautiful..."
One of the green fairies fluttered down and sat of Fiddleford's casted arm, rubbing their tiny little hand over the cast, curious by the foreign texture. And soon after, a few more joined them, sitting on Fiddleford's arm and hair. Fiddleford couldn't help but laugh at the sight. A grown man with these tiny little sentient lights using him as a perch. "Well these fellas sure ain't shy, are they?"
"Seldom have I seen their species be. They're quite curious creatures and intelligent. And they're always very kind."
Fiddleford heard Stanford mumble something else under his breath.
"What was that last part?"
Even while having minimal light, Fiddleford could see how Stanford's cheeks blushed and he fiddled with his hands.
"I- Well I was just saying how... They might sometimes remind a lot me of you."
Fiddleford laughed as Ford's blush deepened. "You telling me I remind you of a fairy?"
Ford tried to defend himself while still flustered. "Not that you remind me of them! But they would remind me of you! Cause they were always so considerate, and brilliant and, and you were one of the most considerate, brilliant people I've ever met! And you mean so much to me and oh god, I'm just making things worse aren't I?"
Fiddleford's laugh died down to chuckles and he retook Stanford's hand with his good one. "No, no I don't think so. I think you're being a real sweetheart." Fiddleford brought the hand to his lips and kissed it lightly. "Thank you, Stanford. You really mean a lot to me too."
Around him, Fiddleford could hear the fairies on his shoulders and in his hair squeaking with glee. And he found himself laughing again.
Oh man, I'm sorry this submission’s a day late, but better late than never I guess.
For today's QOTD I feel like Bill would have some interest in the matter after all he knows everything about Stanford so obviously Fiddleford would be a big part of it too. But he's not overly obsessed over what they do or holds anything above slight interest from time to time over the idea. Compared to what he's seen and does on a daily basis, weird human interaction and relationships are pretty tame and even boring. He prefers complete control to do whatever he likes whenever over these human bonded pairings and all their unspoken rules.
Day 4: Bill Cipher
It was a week until Stanford and Stanley left for their exploration across the sea. They had been busy preparing for the trip almost obsessively. Organizing entire cabinets worth of maps and paperwork, collecting and storing any and all necessities they would need from canned foods to computer hard drives. It was nearly impossible to get either twin to talk about anything other then their upcoming trip. So Fiddleford found it very odd when seemingly out of the blue, Ford had mentioned going to the Shack to do some "late spring cleaning" despite the fact that it was almost fall.
Fiddleford hadn't intending on prying, at least not this much. He'd come over to the shack to pay Ford a visit, see if he needed any help with this cleaning business. But when he got there, both Soos and Stanley mentioned not seeing him for most of the day. And sure enough, Ford wasn't in his old room on the first floor of the house or anywhere else. He even snuck into the elevator to go check the underground laboratories, the room felt like a grave yard of torn-apart machines scattered about the room that use to hold the portal. But once again Stanford was nowhere to be seen.
That meant...
Fiddleford braced himself as the elevator rose up to the secret floor Stanford had built between the Shack and the lab. He hated this room, more than any other place in this world. All those eyes... And especially now that he fully understood what they meant.
But when the elevator doors opened, there wasn't a single eye or triangle in sight. Rather, there were a few cardboard boxes in a stack in an otherwise empty-looking small office space. And Ford was standing in the middle, looking like a kid caught in the middle of stealing from their mother's purse.
"Fiddleford! I- I didn't..." He looked guiltily as he put down one final box. "I'm sorry, I didn't want you to see any of this."
The eyes may be gone but he could still feel that wicked energy trapped in the walls. Fiddleford had to swallow heavily before answering. "It's alright Ford. I was just checking in on ya. You weren't any where else in the house so I got worried."
"I'm sorry. I know how much this place... upsets you. I needed to get this stuff out of the house and I didn't want anyone to worry. I couldn't- I..." Ford kept trying to finish his words but couldn't. He looked about the room ashamed. "I should of just told you what I was doing earlier."
"I understand Stanford..."
Stanford looked up a nodded slowly. The silence in the room made Fiddleford want to scream.
"So what exactly do you plan on doing with all of Bill's... Stuff?"
"Well, I was going to a dig a pit out in the woods and burn everything. And then I was going to lock this stupid thing down in the bunkers so no one will ever find it." Stanford pulled a weirdly-shaped bulky object out from one of the many pockets in his coat. It was wrapped up in canvas but Fiddleford could still tell that it was that wretched statue. The one he'd watched Stanford reverently meditate in front of ages ago.
"Do you think you'll need any help bringing all these boxes out to the woods?" The words coming to Fiddleford seemed to be more out of instinctive manners than actual willingness. But he would stand behind them.
"Would you mind? It would go faster. But I know how Bill... You don't have to help me with this if you don't want to. This was all my doing after all."
"I think I'll be ok."
"You sure, Fiddlford?"
"Sure as I'll ever be... Let's just get this over with."
Working together, they carried all of the boxes into the elevator. And then with some assistance from Stan and Soos all the boxes got up to the first floor and were carried out of the house. Fiddleford could swear the house almost felt lighter as the last box passed the threshold into the old shack. Next Ford and Fiddleford piled all the boxes and a pair of shovels into a wagon and dragged it deep into the woods.
Once they were far enough away from any civilization, Stanford stopped pulling and began digging. The whole while Ford was eerily quiet, focused solely on the work set before him with an furious sort of intensity. A long while later, maybe hours when the pit was rising above Fiddleford's waist they stopped and scrambled out of the hole.
Stanford dropped the first box into the pit. It landed with a heavy thunk and dirt poured in around it. Ford sprayed lighter fluid over the box then dropped a match in and the blaze began. It continued on like that for a while, when one box became an ashen grey and began collapsing on itself Stanford would place another box in the hole to keep the fire going. Until finally there were no more boxes left. Stanford sat down and focused on the fire, silently watching it dance about lick at the sides of the pit it was trapped in.
Fiddlford sat down next to his side as they waited. He could only begin to imagine the turmoil of thoughts that must be storming insides Stanford's head. But he hoped Stanford knew that he was there for him and was going to be there for him for a very long time. Long after the worlds moved on and Bill is dead even in memories and everyday before then that these old regrets would be haunting him. Fiddleford wasn't going anywhere. He wasn't going to let Ford suffer thinking about his past, obsessing over all these mistakes like they both had years before. He loved him.
Fiddleford tried to silently convey all this as they sat side by side watching the fire burn out and finally die.
When the ashy remains finally cooled down, Fiddleford and Stanford began refilling the hole. Burying all those past mistakes.
When they went to the bunker and even when they finally headed back to the shack they passed the hole. Even when Stanford had scattered old leaves and pine needles over the hole Fiddleford could still faintly see that wide circle of freshly placed dirt. And even while the sight still managed to raise Fiddleford's hackles a part of him couldn't help but feel this sudden satisfaction.
Years ago, he'd thought he life was already over. That he live out the rest of his days as a nothing but a fragment of a real person. That he'd die with no knowledge of his past and no hope for any other future. But here he was, for the first time in years able to remember and able to still grow even in old age. He had himself back, he had Stanford back. And with help from so many people he now held dear they had won. They defeated Bill. And that shadow that had been lurking over Fiddleford, watching him with those terrible eyes, had vanished.
There would still be bad days. And sometimes old memories might once again feel like too much for Fiddleford. But Stanford Pines and Fiddleford McGucket were finally together again, able to hold and support one another more strongly than they ever had before. They were alive, and together, and surrounded by people who loved them. And Bill was finally gone.
And here's day 3! I decided to focus this one primarily on Fiddleford's relationship with his son Tate.
For today's question, how would their family react, I feel like during their college and investigation days a lot of Stanford's and Fiddleford's family would of greatly disapproved if they had ever known about them being together. Both of them probably would of never said a word to any of their friends or family about them dating for their own safety. Luckily though, when they do become a couple again later in life all those people they were scared of the judgment and ridicule of are dead and gone and their families now are nothing but supportive and caring.
Day 3: Family
When Fiddleford began to wake up, at first he was thrown into a panic. This wasn't his shack. He was in a room he didn't recognize, on someone's couch, with some stranger's arms wrapped snugly around him.
When he tried to writhe his way out of the sleeping strangers grasp, he heard them mumble something before hugging him tighter yet. Their voice sounded familiar... Almost like someone he knew years ago. He looked carefully over the sleeping man's face. Fluffy grey hair framed a stern square chin and an oddly owl-like face peaceful in sleep. Wait, was that Stanford?
All at once years worth of memories came back to Fiddleford, going to meet Ford in Gravity Falls, working on the project, everything going wrong... and finally having everything go right years later. Stanford Pines was back and the world was safe once more. He was a billionaire now and he lived here in this mansion with his son, his boyfriend, any family of his boyfriend, and anyone else who ever asked for the hospitality.
He felt the front of his head ache slightly as he finally recalled the last thirty years of his life. He always hated it when he woke up lost like that. Being in such a freight just to immediately remember everything and begin his day with a pulsing headache. He guessed that was simply one of the side effects of wiping his mind so often in his younger years that he'd just have to make do with. But it didn't mean that he'd dislike it any less.
Luckily though, this time his panic he didn't wake up Ford as well. He was still fast asleep snuggled up to Fiddleford from behind. It was always such a trouble to get Ford to fall and stay asleep. Moving slowly, Fiddleford unclasped Stanford's arms from himself and readjusted them into a more comfortable position. Where Ford was sleeping on his side onto Fiddleford's shoulders.
This was nice. A glowing fire giving the room a flickering, warm light. Curtains on the windows parted to let the stars and moon shine in. And having Stanford here made it all the more nicer. Fiddleford felt his eyes fluttering shut, lulled back to sleep by the stillness of the room and the warm fireplace.
But his eyes immediately shot back open when one of the doors creaked open. His whole body stiffened, ready to fight whomever was at the door. Only to find his son, Tate tentatively peeking into the room.
"Oh. You're still up?" He asked, only letting his head and an arm into the room. "Sorry, I was just checking on you guys. I'll leave now."
Fiddleford waved to his son, trying to be as loud as he could while still talking in a hushed whisper. "No, it's fine! Come on in!"
Tate stood in the doorway a bit longer, worrying away at his cheek before quietly pacing into the room and taking a seat in the chair across from the lush couch. He looked upset about something. His eyes were hidden under his mop of brown hair and his lips were pressed into a firm frown.
"Tate? Is something bothering ya, hun?"
Tate took a deep breath before answering. "I... I've been thinking and I got a few things I really ought to say to you dad."
"Well whatever it is, your free to say whatever you like. This house is as much my home as it is yours."
"That's the thing dad... I don't really feel like I should be here living off of you."
Immediately Fiddleford felt his heart drop down to his gut. What on earth was Tate talking about? Did he not want to stay here at the mansion any more? Did he still not feel comfortable here, around him? Who was Fiddleford kidding, of course Tate still wouldn't be happy here. He certainly wouldn't if he were in the same position. How did he expect one year of good memories to out-do all those years, Tate's entire childhood and well into his adulthood, worth of miserable ones?
"After the way I treated you? The way everyone treated you when you needed help the most? We all shut you out, tried to pretend you didn't exist."
What?
"And now because you've gotten better and gained this here fortune... Only then did I give you a second chance."
"Tate?"
"And I'm sorry Dad. I'm sorry for only showing up now that you have something to give me in return, that ain't right. Family's ain't supposed to work like that."
"Tate, come over here."
Sure enough Tate got up from his spot and stood in front of his father. Fiddleford took Tate's hands in his own and looked up at his son. From here, he could see under that mop of hair was a pair of brilliant blue eyes nearly identical to the ones Fiddleford looked at every morning in the mirror.
"Tate? Please listen to me, hun. You have nothing to be sorry for."
"But Dad-"
"No, please let me finish. I was never a good role model, never a good father, never a good anything towards ya. And I may not remember things crystal clear all the time but I certainly remember you trying to keep me in a retirement home, even brought me into your own house. But I was in a dark place then, I couldn't understand what you were trying to do. And I never could apologize for the way I was hurting ya."
"But even if you couldn't understand, I shouldn't of given you such a cold shoulder like that. I'd spray you with water dad. I should of gotten you better help or-"
"Or nothing. Tate McGucket, don't you dare for even a second feel like you're only here cause I'm rich now. You and I both know you're better than that. Before I recovered, I never apologized for what I'd put you through as a kid. I never made the effort myself to be a better father. And I'm so sorry about that. And you can be sorry all you want, but don't forget that I've made many mistakes myself."
"I guess we both have reasons to be sorry then."
"I suppose so... But you know what? That's the great thing about the past. Once you put it behind ya, you can start working on what's now in your present. And that's what we've been doing. And I'm so happy you're giving me this opportunity to make things up to you. I love you so much, I hope you know that. And you'll always be my lil'tater-tot!"
That got a snort out of Tate, he backed away and hurried to cover his mouth though when Ford shifted and mumbled some more in his sleep.
"Sorry' bout that." He said much more quietly than he'd been talking before.
"Eh, don't worry about it. It may be hard to get Stanford here to actually lie down but once you do, he's out like a light. Most of the time."
"So, you really are happy with him? With Dr. Pines here?"
Fiddleford nodded, smiling down at Stanford. "Happier than I've been in quite some time."
"Ok, I'm glad then... That you're happy together."
"Thank you, Tate. And if you really don't want to stay here at the mansion, that's perfectly fine, hun. Just as long as you're still able to visit me plenty!"
"Of course dad." Tate started getting antsy, looking towards the door. "It is awfully late though so I'll let you go back to sleep now. You and Dr. Pines fine in here? Don't want to bother going back to your bedrooms or none?"
"Snug and a bug in a moonshine jug Tater-tot!"
That got another quiet chuckle out of Tate as he ducked back out of the room. "Ok, Goodnight Dad."
"Goodnight Son!"
They still had a ways to go. Fiddleford knew that. But for tonight and every night he would count his lucky stars that his family, no matter how big or small now, was still there for him. Willing to let him make up for the years he'd been missing. Willing to give him a second chance.
And with fond memories of Tate floating through his head, as well as the promise of more good memories in the future, Fiddleford felt his eyes close and his body slump into Stanford's side as sleep took hold over him.
And here's day two! I decided to make this story about Fiddleford spending his first Summerween in years with Stanford, about a year after the TV series ends.
As for today's Question, I think during their down time both Ford and Fiddleford would be avid readers as well as tinkers. They would be reading anything from scientific journals to fantasy novels and always love discussing them like the nerds they are. Also I think they'd both enjoy going to any of the weird celebrations held by the town, Fiddleford for the social aspect and Stanford for discovering the unique stories behind each holiday.
Day 2: Vacation/Holiday
The summer sky was covered in clouds, the pale light of the moon barely shining through. Carved watermelons glowed onto the sidewalks with a green-pinkish tinted light. And all around them kids dressed up crazy costumes sprinted down the streets going door to door, hurrying to get as much candy as they could before the night was through. And many parents followed close behind their kids, pretending the holiday spirit no longer effected them.
Ford and Fiddleford were content to simply walk through the town side by side, taking in the unique atmosphere brought on by this year's Summerween. Their first Summerween together in quite a long time.
It was eerily familiar to say the least, for Fiddleford especially. Sometimes while holding Stanford's hand he would get the flashes from somewhere in his past. Years ago, when he was holding the same hand though it was much less callused and wrinkled. And they had watched kids run about back then. Kids would would now be in their thirties and forties...
"Fiddleford?" Fiddleford looked up when Ford nudged his side. "Are you feeling alright?"
Fiddleford took Ford's hand in his, patting it reassuringly. "Oh don't worry darling, I've just been remembering a few things. It really is beautiful this time of year. You remember the last time we did this together?"
Ford smiled sadly, looking over the town. "It certainly has been a while... It's funny though. For how long I've been gone and for how much this town has gone through it seems like it never really changes."
"That's for sure." Fiddleford hummed.
They continued on in a comfortable silence, walking hand in hand. The only sounds to hear were the distant cheers from houses glowing in the night and the constant clack of Fiddleford's crystal cane on the sidewalk. Sometimes the wind would pick up and tug at their wide-brimmed hats or rustle through the cloaks they were both wearing. It had been a long time since Fiddleford had actually dressed up for Summerween. For years he had contented himself to simply watch everyone from afar. But this year Stanford had managed to persuade him and now the two were meandering through the streets as a pair of wizards.
Eventually, they walked through the whole small town of Gravity Falls and found themselves back at their starting point. The old, dirt road leading to the Mystery Shack. This year, Soos decided to host a party at the Shack and was holding a few late-night tours. And for one night all the merchandise in the gift shop was double price. Stan had been so proud. But while exciting it had also become a very crowded, noisy party so Fiddleford and Stanford had snuck out to go for a quiet walk to escape from the hectic party. As they approached Ford's former home, pop music was pulsing through the air and beams of neon light would shine through the otherwise dark woods.
"Uhhh Fiddleford? Are you sure we should go back so soon?" Stanford asked suddenly. Fiddleford followed his eyes towards the mob of people still surrounding the shack not quite as large as before but still rather intimidating to be walking towards.
"Well... I reckon we could go do another lap around the town if you'd like." Fiddleford offered a little reluctantly. That shindig looked like a fun time. But while he would of loved to drag Ford right into the middle of that crowd and dance the rest of the night away, he wasn't about to put Ford in that position if it would make him uncomfortable. Besides, it was a beautiful night and they had it all to themselves. They could spend it however they pleased.
But just as Fiddleford tried to turn around and head back towards the town, Stanford stayed put. Looking nervously out towards the Shack in the distance. Then finally coming to a decision he sighed and squeezed Fiddleoford's hand.
"Just so you know Fiddleford it's been a really... really long time since I've danced."
"Oh that's fine by me darlin'!" Fiddleford laughed happily pulling Ford towards the party. "And I doubt all those folks and their fancy werewolves and spookum costumes will worry themselves over two old wizards like us."
Before Ford could second guess himself, they were upon the party and Mabel spotted them right away. She raced over to them while wearing a redicuosly poofy pink dress.
"There you are! I've been looking for you wizards everywhere!" Mabel teased, jumping right into Stanford's arms for a hug.
"Oh! Fiddleford and I had decided to go for a walk through town. I'm sorry if we alarmed you, dear." Stanford said placing Mabel back on the ground.
She waved a gloved hand back at him, "Don't worry about it Grunkle Ford! I'm just glad you guys are having fun!" When Soos suddenly played a new song, everyone in the crowd began screaming and Mabel's eyes lit up. "Oh my gosh I love this song! Quick! You guys have to dance with me!"
Mabel grabbed them and dragged them further into the mob. And when Ford started feeling claustrophobic and self-conscious he focused on Fiddleford's warm hand still entwined with his.
Looking around, Ford realized this crowd wasn't full of as many stranger's faces as he initially feared. He could see Stan over near the stage with Soos and Melody. And he saw Dipper laughing, surrounded by many of his older friends. He found he could recognized many faces from the Cipher wheel as well as some ordinary folks from the town. There wasn't an enemy or threat in sight.
When he felt someone squeezing his hand he looked down to see Fiddleford, blue eyes glowing in the party lights but still filled with worry.
"Ford? Darlin'? Are you feeling alright? There's no shame in stepping out if you need to take a break."
"I know but I'm fine for now, I promise." Ford said, trying to shove down the last bits of fear still squirming in his stomach. "So... shall we dance?" He asked, offering Fiddleford his other hand.
"Stanford Pines you already know I'd love nothing more!" Fiddleford said, taking hold of Ford's other hand. And the two danced the rest of the night away, singing and laughing and feeling happier then they had been for years now. Even while the crowds and bright lights still made Ford feel nervous, having his family nearby and his Fiddleford by his side made all the difference in the world for Stanford.
Yay! I'm so excited to be apart of this year's Fiddauthor Fest! Here's my take on their College days which may or may not have some inspiration from something that may or may not of happened to me last semester hahahaha... Ugh college clubs can be the worst
As for the QOTD, what got me into this corner of the fandom, I can't really think of a specific moment or piece of art that got me to ship them. But it was definitely after "Tale of Two Stans" when we finally learned more about Ford's character and there was lots of fan art of them both young and old being made. I think that's when I really got into this pairing since then.
Day 1: College
Stanford groaned, running his hands through his hair. Why the hell had he thought this would be a good idea? It was a week before midterms, of course no one was going to show up today! Still sitting there alone in the game hall did nothing ease his nerves or embarrassment. He probably looks like such an idiot right now.
It had always been much easier to hold these bi-monthly Dungeons, Dungeons and More Dungeons campaigns when there were more people here. When there was a crowd of like-minded intellectuals and adventurers he never even felt self-conscious. But now sitting here alone with his board fully set-up but no one else to play with he just felt like such a sad loser. Like he was in high-school all over again.
He didn't even know anyone's names in their club! He'd never asked them when they all first met at the beginning of the year and now he was too embarrassed to try asking them now months later after they'd all become friends. But we're they really? Could they actually consider Ford their friend? He never saw any of them outside of D,D & more D. Even when they had the same classes it seemed like Ford was outside of whatever circle they developed. Why did Stanford always do this to himself?
However, just as Ford was about to disassemble his game board and continue his pity party back in his dorms the main doors to the game hall slammed open. One of his game-mates was hurrying through the room dodging ping-pongers and apologizing to chess players who he'd broken the concentration of. He was a kind southern fellow, an engineer major, who always loved to play minstrel in their campaigns and even brought along his banjo to play improvised folk songs. He could see he was carrying his banjo case in today too as he ran over to where Ford was sitting.
"Hey you! I'm awfully sorry to be late! Did everyone leave already?"
"Unless it was the shortest campaign in all D, D & more D history. I uhh- I didn't think anyone would come today. It being the week before midterms and all..."
The minstrel guy sat down across from Stanford, flustered and breathing a little heavily. "I guess everyone needed to study some. Personally, last-minute cramming doesn't work a lick for me. I gave up on all that stressful nonsense long time ago. All it does it raise my blood pressure, ya'know?"
Ford nodded. "Yeah, I can understand that. I'm always the worst about last-minute work. Sometimes, I'll be studying and look at the clock and it's already three in the morning. That's actually why I had scheduled a campaign for today. To try and put my mind off school at least for a little while."
"Well then let's get started! Who do you wanna be?"
"Wait, you really want to play? But their's only two of us!"
"Eh, it may not be as exciting as when you get a full crowd of people but a two-person campaign can be done." The minstrel guy shrugged his shoulders and made a move to stand back up nervously. "But if it makes you uncomfortable or none, we can just wait till the next meeting when more folks show up-"
"No!" Stanford said, much louder than he had anticipated. "Uhh, I mean I don't mind playing with just you. I take it you'll want to be minstrel as usual?"
He grinned, taking his banjo out of it's case and strumming a little. "Of course. And yourself?"
"I was thinking of being a mage this campaign. Shall we roll for abilities?"
The game began and Ford found it was a lot more fun than he'd expected it to be. Sure a few of the chess players would shush them if they got too dramatic with their story or laughed too loudly when the die fell hilariously out of favor but Ford found he was paying them little mind. Even less mind than when there was a full party playing.
The minstrel guy would strum along the whole time, humming little ditties about Ford's mage exploring the unknown world and using both his magic and wit to escape from trolls and ogres. As they played, Stanford looked the guy more carefully. He was a rather lanky yet handsome fellow with a sweet warm smile and blond hair almost the color of amber. He was currently wearing a floral button-up shirt that while tacky somehow managed to look pleasing, even charming on him. But Ford found himself drawn mostly to his eyes. They were a pair of brilliant, sparkling blue eyes like a summer sky or precious gemstones.
Two hours later yet much sooner than either of them would of liked, Stanford rolled a 28 and had enough power to defeat the last monster on their board. The minstrel strummed a few cords of a victory song as Ford cheered. Probabilitor's evil was vanquished, Princess Unatainabelle was rescued and the game was finished.
The other guy put his banjo back in its case as Ford put away his game set and folded back up all his graph paper.
Just as the man was about to walk away he stopped and turned around. "Shoot! I hate to sound rude, but I can't seem to recall your name. I'm terribly sorry, what was it again?"
"Stanford Pines." He replied, putting out his hand on impulse. "And yours?"
The man grinned, taking his and shaking it firmly. "I'm Fiddleford Hadron McGucket."
When Fiddleford's brow furrowed and he looked down at his hand in confusion Stanford tried to quickly pull his hand out of the other's. And he felt his heart drop into his stomach as he watched his eyebrows rose and he realized that Ford had one to many fingers on his hand.
"You... You're a polydactyl?"
"Uh, yes I happen to be."
"Huh..."
Oh well, that small friendship was nice while it lasted but now it was time to go back to being the school freak. The friendless school freak.
But... Fiddleford didn't say anything of the sort. "Well, I've had a swell time here tonight, Stanford!"
Ford was dumbfounded. He wasn't going to say anything else?
"And thank you so much for putting today's board together!" He picked up his banjo case preparing to walk out.
Ford shrugged on his coat and hurried to respond to Fiddleford. "I uhh, I should be the one thanking you really Fiddleford. For actually coming in today! I don't know what I would of done if you hadn't show up."
"Well, it certainly was a pleasure playing with you! Say, can I expect to see you at next month's campaign?"
"Of course! I'm not part of many other clubs so I try to make every game I can."
"Alrighty, then see you then Stanford! Maybe we could hang out before then too, I'm almost always Either at the library or the campus workshop so don't be a stranger!"
"I'll try not to be!" With that Fiddleford was leaving the game hall and Ford watched him go first. They were actually heading in the same direction but he didn't want to follow Fiddleford right after they had already said goodbye to each other. Stanford might of died of that kind of embarrassment.
He hoped to see him before the next meeting in two weeks. From what Ford could recall they didn't have any classes together but maybe he could take Fidds up on his offer and visit him in the library. He was curious to hear more about Fiddleford's inventions that he'd brag about occasionally during their game. He was so kind, and talented and considerate and not to mention a scholar. Fiddleford was just all around a really great guy and Stanford really wanted to be his friend. Despite the fact that he had never really made a friend before.
Though when he left the game hall he couldn't help but wonder Why his face felt so hot all of a sudden. It hadn't felt that warm while they were playing had it?
