#looloolalalol

[stanowarb2]

SELFIE GRUNKLES

Art by looloolalalol (deactivated) for @stanowarb2.

[doberart]

I saw that rude anon just now and I know you heard words from others a lot already so you don't have to answer this, but I just want you to know you're one of my favorite tumblr artists. Your art is great, period. Keep up the good work. And if possible, could you maybe draw more *cough* shirtsless Ford? If not, that's okay too. No pressure :)

Thank you! I enjoy seeing your art as well. It always gets me right in the feels. Haha. We’ll see. ;) You can see what happens when I try to draw shirtless Ford…I quickly throw a tank top on him. XD

[stanowarb2]

PROUD STANLEY

Art by looloolalalol (deactivated) for @stanowarb2.

[stanowarb2]

TUMMY GRUNKLE (AFTER HEMINGWAY)

Art by looloolalalol (deactivated) for @stanowarb2.

Click KEEP READING for prompt photo...

Ernest Hemingway, circa 1954.

[stanowarb2]

HAIRLANDER

Art by @looloolalalol for @stanowarb2

Sorry Stan.  There can be only one.  Use it or lose it.

[stanowarb2]

BOXER

Art by @looloolalalol for @stanowarb2

Stan connects with his inner Papa Hemingway.  KEEP READING for ref...

Ernest Hemingway, 1940.

[stanowarb2]

GRUNKLE SPICE 

Art by @looloolalalol for @stanowarb2

[radioactivedelorean]

Human Sample #1

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7

Stanford held his breath as the intergalactic animal control passed by mere feet from his hiding place, behind a stack of crates. They were an ugly looking species. Four legs and two arms apiece, their skin was a dirty green colour and had a similar texture to worn leather. They each had three eyes, with irises that seemed to glow pale green in the light. There were four of them. Three of them were brandishing nets, the fourth a tranquilizer gun. Apparently, in this dimension, humans were regarded the same way as stray dogs were back home.

Home, Ford sighed. That was a place he couldn’t stop thinking about. It had been almost ten years since he’d been knocked through the portal. Almost ten years since he’d seen Fiddleford. Almost ten years since he’d last seen his brother. Before then, it had been another ten years since Stanley had been kicked out and Ford had turned his back on him. That meant Ford had only seen his brother once in twenty years, and that had only been to tell him to get as far away as possible.

Stanford put his head in his hands. He was in real deep shit and this time he didn’t have anyone to pull him out of it. Sure, over the last ten years he’d been in more than his fair share of crap, but he’d either been lucky or had some means of defending himself. He’d lost his blaster when they were chasing him, shortly before he’d found this hiding spot. Against his will, Ford let out a harsh sob. His stomach growled furiously. It seemed like forever since he’d last eaten - anything that was safe for him to consume was rather scarce out here. At first, he’d managed to bargain his way into food and shelter, but as he moved through dimensions, that tactic had gone cold. He’d resorted to stealing bits of food from tables and houses that had been left unlocked. He hated stealing - it was dishonest and rude - but he had had no other option. As the dimensions grew more populated, it got harder for him to get food that way. He had, until recently, been raiding trash bins for anything he could find, and had rarely been able to keep down whatever he did find. Who knew what sort of diseases he had?

Ford heard a shout come from ten yards in front of him, snapping him out of his misery, and he clamped a hand over his mouth. Ford heard the officers approach, before the crate he was hiding behind was pulled away, revealing the man curled up behind it. He immediately got to his feet and tried to make a run for it. He felt a breeze over the back of his neck as a net just barely missed him. Panting heavily, Ford ran as fast as his legs could possibly carry him. It didn’t help that he couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten and his stomach ached painfully as he forced himself to move.

He didn’t get far before something sharp embedded itself into his right shoulder. He let out a yelp and swing his left arm around, ripping the tranquilizer dart out. He knew this was pointless, however, as the sedative was already coursing through his system. His head was beginning to spin. He found he couldn’t keep running, his legs feeling like lead weights. Eventually, he stopped altogether and collapsed onto the rocky ground. Shapes moved around him, voices becoming inaudible as Ford felt his strength leave him. As his vision faded, Ford felt himself being dragged over to what looked like a large pet carrier. They shoved him forcefully into it and hauled the cage into a truck. As they drove away, Ford’s world went dark.

——

Ford woke with a jolt. He was still in the tight cage, his knees pressed right up to his chin. He was terribly cramped. He had a pounding headache, most likely the result of the sedatives wearing off. The truck hit another bump in the road, making the cage to jump up and causing Ford to smack his head into the ceiling. He yelped. That wasn’t going to make his headache any better. The spot where he’d been struck with the tranquilizer dart was swollen and sore and it hurt for him to use it.

Ford had no idea how long he’d been asleep, but it was roughly an hour after he’d woken up when the truck finally came to a halt. He heard the officers get out and walk round to the back of the truck. Ford felt them lift his crate up and carry it forward. He could hear them talking, but couldn’t understand a word. Putting a hand to his throat, Ford gasped. His translator! They must have removed it while he was unconscious. The crate was jostled again and his head hit the ceiling, causing him to groan in pain.

Next thing he knew, he was being thrown into some sort of enclosure. He landed face down in the dirt. By the time he’d scrambled to his feet, the cage door behind him had been locked. He grabbed the bars and pulled furiously, but the door refused to budge. Three or four creatures in khaki green uniforms were standing on the out side having a conversation. He couldn’t understand a damn word anybody was saying, not without his translator. His anger soon left him. His hands shook and his eyes stung. Two of the four walls of the enclosure were glass, with multiple species of alien on the other side. Multiple cameras flashed and small children pointed at him, asking their parents strange questions in strange languages. The other two walls were made of black brickwork. He was in a zoo.

Walking across the purple grass, Ford sat down cross-legged and hunched over, putting his face in his hands. His shoulders shook as he sobbed. What the hell was he going to do now? He couldn’t ask for help - nobody could understand him without his translator. He was on display like some sort of freak of nature. Ford laughed bitterly to himself. Freak. It wasn’t like he hadn’t heard that before. He’d always been branded as a freak back home, but never like this. To these people, he was as interesting as a white lion in an Earth zoo. They were taking photos of him. They saw him as some sort of attraction.

As he calmed down, Ford took some time to look around at his new ‘home’, if that’s even what it could be called. Multiple piles of straw were placed around the area. A large bowl of clear liquid stood in the centre of the space, like a makeshift pond. There was a pipe in the middle, filtering the liquid from the bottom of the pond and releasing the clean stuff back into the bowl. Ford just hoped that was water. The whole enclosure was maybe twenty foot by ten foot. There was some sort of shed in the back corner, built out of a dark orange type of wood Ford hadn’t seen before. There was a large dog door on one side, with a small ramp leading from the dirt to the entrance. The structure looked like a huge wooden chicken coop. Getting up, he walked over to it to get a closer look. Inside, in the corner by the brick wall, was a large pile of straw, clearly with the intention of being a bed. A large bowl stood beside it, full of the same clear liquid. In the opposite corner, around the corner of a separate wall, was what he could only assume was a toilet. The ceramic bowl was cracked and stained, but when Ford pushed the handle down, it flushed. There was a roll of toilet paper on the ground beside it. He figured that was the only luxury he had in this place. At least he wouldn’t have to squat in a pile of straw or stand up against a tree like a dog. It was out of sight of the zoo visitors, too, so he at least still had his privacy.

Ford made his way over to the pile of straw and sat down. It wasn’t the most comfortable thing he’d ever sat on, but at least it was better than sleeping in the dirt. He shrugged his tattered coat off and laid it down, leaving him in his torn and still blood-spotted shirt and pants. He was a mess; ten years of jumping between dimensions had left him in less than perfect conditions. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a shower. He’d have to use the pond to wash himself down. When, of course, night fell. Like hell he was going to bathe himself in front of all those cameras.

Ford felt a lump in his throat and he lowered his head. How could they do this to him? Was there some sort of cosmic law that stated he had to have a rough time while away from his home dimension? Was it decided, when he was born, that he would have to struggle more than anybody else? He briefly wondered if this was due to his birth defect, but dismissed the thought almost as soon as it came. That was ridiculous! He wasn’t the only human to have been born different. There were people with far worse defects than just an extra finger on each hand. Still, ever since he had first started school, he’d been the object of ridicule amongst both students and parents alike. The teachers generally liked him, since he frequently aced subjects and was always eager to learn and achieve. That didn’t stop Crampelter and his gang threatening him and beating him up on a near-daily basis, but it at least made it easier knowing he had his teachers’ support.

He’d had Stanley, too, which is more than he could say now. His twin didn’t share the same intellect, but his brute strength, fighting abilities and headstrong attitude made up for what he lacked intelligence-wise.

—–

Ford was sitting in the dirt, using a stick to draw in the dust between the patches of grass. He sketched eyebats, leprecorns, scampfires and a number of other oddities he’d found in his time in Gravity Falls. By now, he’d grown immune to the cameras flashing in his face constantly. He’d already been here nearly two Earth months. He had no idea how long that was in terms of local time, but his watch told him it was currently 3:50am on Earth in his home dimension.

The man wiped a hand over his face to try and get the dirt out his eyes. He only succeeded in smearing it. Grunting in frustration, he got up and walked over to the pond. Since discovering the liquid was just water and wasn’t infused with any sort of poison or sedative, he’d been using it to keep himself relatively clean. He knelt beside the pond and removed his glasses, cupping his hands under the pipe and splashing his face with the cold water. It was icy cold, something he took as a benefit in the heat. It must have been the height of summer on his planet, as even though his enclosure had a cooling system, he was far too warm. He’d taken his shirt off, leaving him in a short sleeved T-shirt which was smeared with dirt and smelled foul. The pipe could only get so much of the grime and stink out of his clothes.

Ford scrubbed at his face with the water. He knelt forward, submerging his face in the pond. He scrubbed his fringe and tossed his hair back, wiping his face dry with his shirt collar. He looked over to the glass, where a group of small children were standing, looking in on him. They appeared to be on a school trip of some sort, judging by the uniforms. A taller, older creature of the same species, presumably the teacher, stood to the right of the group. The creature pointed at Ford and spoke to the kids. Ford assumed they were telling the children some probably-not-true facts about humans, like the colour of their eyes determined hierarchy and any red-haired humans were considered royalty and served by the others. The man rolled his eyes, got up, and walked over to the shed. He crawled through the door and sat down in the straw. It was much cooler in the shed than outside. He wiped his forehead with a six-fingered hand and laid down. Despite the air conditioning unit above his head, it was still uncomfortably warm in his enclosure.

Ford still hated that word, but he couldn’t think of a better term. It’s what he was in, after all. An enclosure. He’d never be able to look at an Earth zoo again, now that he knew what it was like on the inside. He had tried so many times to get out. He’d tried bending the bars on the door apart, but only succeeded in dislocating his shoulder. The zookeepers had noticed the injury and he’d been sedated so they could fix it. He’d tried climbing on top of the shack in the corner and attempted to remove the air conditioning to make a hole big enough for him to escape, but had only succeeded in slicing his palms open on the sharp fan blades inside. He’d had to sacrifice the right sleeve of his shirt to bandage them, but he was sure they’d become infected. After he’d been caught trying to dig his way under the fence, cinder blocks had been laid around the edge of the enclosure to keep him in. While he couldn’t understand anything the zookeepers were saying, he had a feeling that if he tried to escape again, they’d have to …. alter his anatomy to keep him calm.

That was enough to put him off from any further escape attempts. Since then, he’d been planning a method of liberating himself from incarceration which required less brute force and more clever thinking. His mind drew a blank, though. Usually, his quick thinking and careful planning helped him out of sticky situations. Here, however? The roof of his enclosure was half wooden planks, half wire net, so he couldn’t climb out. The fence at the back of the enclosure was blocked off by cinder blocks, which he had no hope of moving, even if he did manage to dig his way underneath again. He couldn’t break the lock on the door - it was made of a substance he’d barely seen before and was virtually indestructible. He didn’t have any scissors, knives, lockpicks or even so much as hairpins that he could use to get out. All he had where the clothes on his back, the muddy, worn-out boots on his feet and his glasses. He couldn’t bargain with the keepers, since they didn’t understand English and he couldn’t understand them.

In other words, it seemed hopeless.

Ford had never really believed in hope. Sure, as a kid, he’d always dreamed of sailing round the world with his brother, but as time went on, that dream faded into obscurity. After Stanley had been kicked out, he hadn’t contacted his brother in years. Sure, he could have used his grant money to pay for his travels, but it was no fun doing it alone. He couldn’t live their dream without his brother by his side. Since then, he’d discarded the idea of hope and focused on his studies. He couldn’t just hope that he’d get out of this damn zoo, he had to do something.

A loud banging noise snapped him out of his thoughts. He looked over to the glass panels on the far side of the enclosure. Two young creatures were banging on the glass with their fists, clearly trying to make Ford do something interesting. He was reminded of going to the zoo with his twin and mother as a kid. Despite Ford’s protests, Stan had insisted on knocking on the glass of the enclosures of most of the animals there to try and get them to move. Ford sighed and looked away. He wasn’t going to give those kids what they wanted. What did they expect him to do, ride around on a unicycle and juggle bowling pins?

When the creatures didn’t get a sufficient response out of Ford, they just knocked harder. Ford growled. The noise echoed around him and was starting to give him a headache. He looked over at the creatures and got to his feet. Taking a deep breath, he clenched his hands into fists and marched over. He stopped three inches from the glass, glaring directly at the kids. He gathered a little saliva in his mouth and spat it at them, smirking at their disgusted expressions before turning on his heel and marching back over to the shed. He crawled inside and sat down on the pile of hay.

He was starting to go insane in this place. He’d already lost his cool once and he was determined not to lose his mind too. He hadn’t spoken to another person, alien or otherwise, in months. He’d taken to talking to himself quietly. He knew that was one of the first signs of madness, but he feared he would grow insane much faster by not talking to himself. Sometimes, when he was knelt by the pond, he’d stare at his reflection in the gently rippling water and imagine he was talking to Stanley. It hurt, knowing that his own twin had been the one to get him stuck in this mess in the first place.

It was an accident, Ford chided himself. You were fighting and he lashed out at the worst possible moment. He had no idea what was going to happen.

Ford sighed and stared at the wall. It wasn’t going to do him any good dwelling on the negative thoughts like this. He had to figure out a way of escaping. He was starting to believe that this was it. That this was as far as he could go. Despite years of being on the run, he couldn’t think of a way out of this one. He felt like he’d disappointed not only his parents, but himself, by giving up like this. He could just imagine his father’s unimpressed comment and cold glare. His mother’s sad gaze, seeing that her son had given up when faced with a challenge such as this. He’d never given up over a particularly difficult test paper, even when his teachers gave him degree-level work to complete. He hadn’t given in whenever he’d been surrounded by Crampelter and his gang, with or without his brother’s help. Sure, he’d had more than his fair share of rough days, but nothing he couldn’t overcome.

This, however, was rather more significant than anything school had thrown at him. There hadn’t been the threat of starvation, capture, dying from loss of blood or being forced onto display like a circus animal back at Backupsmore. At least there, if he failed, he had the opportunity to work harder and make things right, rather than have his manhood taken away. Just the thought of that happening made Ford feel physically sick.

Ford took a deep breath to try and calm his nerves. He’d noticed that his hands were shaking, and balled them into fists and shoved them into his pockets. He couldn’t afford to keep getting upset. He’d had his moment, he’d done that bit. Now was not the time to start crying and whining about how ‘life isn’t fair’ and ‘why me?’. He had to keep a level head if he ever had a chance of getting out of here.

That was easier said than done when you were locked up like an animal.

————–

This was meant to be a short fic - it’s 3300+ words! This is what happens when I’m allowed access to Google Docs, which I have access to on both my laptop and phone. Based off the bonus bit of

this post

by

@looloolalalol

. I saw that little extra, a plot bunny was born and refused to leave me alone. Thus, this happened. Typos, blah blah blah. Probably won’t be fixed later, can’t be bothered.

*EDIT* -  Now on AO3