Hey its me again, writing anything except for the long fics howling for my attention
Later, long after everything had settled as best as it could, and a new normal had been established, no one could agree how, exactly, it had all started.
Some said there was a slow creep. Signs that popped up over several weeks and months, there for anyone with eyes to see them. Animals acting irrationally, weather patterns changing without warning, a feeling of dread in the air.
Others said it was all over in an instant. That there had been no way to know or prepare, that one second life had been as it always had, and the next things had happened too fast to keep track of.
If anyone asked Stan (and many people did) he'd tell them about how he'd noticed when the winds started changing, or how he'd been checking the mail and been surprised as everyone else, or that he'd known for years that Something was going to happen. A new story with every question, until people learned to stop asking, or kept asking just to see what he'd whip up next.
None of them would ever know the truth.
That, in the winter of 1983, one year after he pushed his brother into a Hell portal of his own making, Stanley Pines didn't realize the world ended for everyone else.
While zombies rose from their graves and attacked the living in every major city across the globe, Stan was doing dishes. While Florida sank into the sea Stan was figuring out how to stretch his budget. While hyper mutative plagues slammed into the populace, Stan was rummaging around Fords house to make it look less like a death trap and more like a house of mystery. While Vampires took over the government Stan was swatting bats out of the kitchen with a broom. While people vanished off the streets in flashes of light, aliens appeared and sent down troops for invasion, floods drowned cities and tornadoes flattened towns, monsters rose from the shadows, magical creatures mutated into horrors that craved human flesh, the sky turned green, and every other apocalyptic scenario ever conceived and then some occurred all at once, Stan was hunched over the desk in the basement, agonizing over every second his brother was out there in space or something, probably getting tortured by ghosts or aliens.
Or ghost aliens.
It wasn't until the electricity shut off that Stan realized something worth checking out happened at all, and even then it was another week before he learned it wasn't the gnomes acting up again.
Even then, it wasn't until the townsfolk were knocking on his door, desperate and looking for a genius, the Stan learned the world had ended in every possible sense and for once, none of it was his fault.
(Probably. He was ninety percent sure it wasn't his anyways. maybe eighty. For sure seventy percent it wasn't his fault)
It didn't make what came after any easier.
Stan tapped his foot and frowned down at his watch, then back up at the stretch of road in front of him. It was the one singular street that led out of the barrier and into the wider world beyond. Thirty years ago it had been a paved if somewhat poorly maintained road.
Now it was even more poorly maintained, and whatever paving had survived was buried under a sea of crushed grass. It came to a stop right at the edge of the chain link fence, where it turned into gravel and continued on into town. A single building stood on Stan's side of the fence, where a handful of gate guards stood idly by, eying the world beyond but otherwise more interested in whatever card game they were playing than keeping an eye out for threats.
If they were anywhere else, their lax attitude and casual air would have gotten everyone in town killed by some wandering monster of horrors, and the fence wouldn't have slowed anything down.
But this was Gravity Falls, one of the few places left on Earth where things were almost normal.
Almost.
"You gonna stand there all day Dr. Pines?" one of them called out, rocking back in his chair and chewing what Stan knew wasn't gum but wasn't about to ask (and if it was he didn't want to know where he got it from), "Don't you have better things to do today?"
"Way better kid," Stan grumbled, crossing his arms and glaring out at the road, "but I got a delivery scheduled to arrive today, and the jackass delivering it is late."
"Bummer." came several bored voices, and Stan silently agreed.
He'd already been standing out here, baking under the sun for an hour. Summer hadn't existed in years but that didn't lessen the heat of the sun in what he was pretty sure was somewhere around May but all the calendars swore was April. The sky was also blue today, which didn't help either.
Stan hated banjo music.
(Or bluegrass or whatever McGucket kept yelling at him about whenever Stan complained about his lack of taste in music)
Just as Stan was about to stomp back into town and yell at whichever idiot was manning the com station today, something just past the tree line growled. The guards started to rouse, a few of them grabbing nearby weapons, but Stan held his ground, eyes narrowing at the nearing source.
With one last loud rev a giant semi truck burst out of the woods, tearing down the road and leaving streaks of flame in its wake. Flames were also painted on the side, reds and purples bright against a dark blue background. The trailer had some kind of flaming Hell scene with demons and a wizard shooting lasers at them, with lightning in the shape of a jagged P surrounded by a circle.
It didn't slow down as it approached the edge of the fence. The guards started scrambling to exit the small building, either to try and get the driver to stop or flee, Stan didn't know. He didn't care either, just stomped over to the doors and swung them open.
He didn't bother stepping aside, just stood there with his arms crossed. Some of the men started yelling at him, but he held firm, glaring at the tinted glass and daring the asshole driving to run him over.
The horn started blaring, sending forth shoots of flames.
The sound became almost frantic, and he raised a single eyebrow in response.
It let loose one long, desperate honk, which cut off abruptly. Just as abruptly, the drivers side window was rolled, down, and the truck turned sharply to the side, turning its head on collision into the worlds riskiest U-turn. Stan stared down the rolled window, not quite making eye contact with the maniac behind the wheel.
It was hard to see a man eye to eye when he was wearing shades after all.
Shermie looked good though, even if he'd taken one too many fashion choices from their old man. A greying mustache sat above a thick, bushy beard, which hid a chiseled jaw. It didn't hide the two bulging arms though, or the leather vest Shermie was sporting. A black bandana held back his longer hair, and two hands wearing fingerless leather gloves let go of the wheel long enough to shoot Stan a salute.
And chuck two small bodies out the window.
They slammed into the dirt in two identical perfect rolls, neither phased by their abrupt ejection from their grandfathers vehicle as the man finished his turn and shot back down the road just as quickly as he appeared.
"Tch, typical," Stan grumbled, glaring at the dying flames and the fleeing maybe-birds, "Not even a 'how you doing Stan. Thanks for looking after my grand kids Stan.' Just drop and dashing."
With a shake of his head, he turned his attention to the two kids standing up and dusting themselves off. It had been twelve years since Stan had seen his great niece and nephew, but he was glad to see them doing well.
And alive.
California was one of the most dangerous places to live nowadays. If it wasn't the ghouls and radioactive sludge monsters of the cities to watch out for, it was the flesh craving mermaids or the living fire that sparked to life this time of year. Not that other places weren't dangerous for their own reasons, but they hadn't been flooded by refugees hoping to find safe haven like most of the coastal cites, only to get pinned on both sides by all the world ending happening everywhere.
Not the best place to raise a family, but Shermie had done just fine, and the children were proof of that. Them standing in front of Stan instead of riding with their gramps was proof of Shermie's growing distaste for children in general.
Stan figured raising one in the middle of the End Times was enough for him.
The girl, Mirabelle if he remembered correctly, had shaved half her hair off. The rest was streaked with purple and hung over the side of face like a drape, obscuring half her face. What Stan could see of it was thick black eye shadow and bright pink streaks across her cheeks. She was wearing a thick dark green sweater with a dull grey meteor in the center. It was missing its sleeves, showing off her two twiggy tattooed arms.
The boy, Marshall (maybe), had on a old worn brown hat, the cap backwards and doing little to hold back the riot of hair poking out from underneath, which was also purple for some reason. It made it easy to see the giant bear painted across his forehead (hopefully. Hopefully Shermie knew better than to tattoo a twelve year olds face). He had on a pair of bulging cargo shorts and a fuzzy fur vest that was more pocket than vest. Several knives were strapped to his waist, and he had a crossbow on his back. There weren't any tattoos on his arms, but that didn't mean he didn't have any.
Both twins had matching black backpacks they swung across their shoulders, eyes scanning their surroundings before landing on Stan.
They were harder than any child's should be. A look Stan had grown used to over the years.
"Are you our Great Uncle Stanley?" Marshall called out, shifting his grip on his back pack and eying him warily. Mirabelle had already positioned herself at his back and was eyeing the guards with the same look, hands twitching where they were gripping her own back pack.
It made Stan's heart hurt, his own family looking at him like that.
But he'd gotten worse from people closer.
Shoving the feeling down, Stan spread his arms out wide and forced a grin on his lips.
"That's me! You're Great Uncle Stanley!" He let them drop once he saw them relax at his lack of weapons, "You can call me Grunkle though. Great Uncle's a mouthful."
"Why are you wearing that," Mirabelle asked, moving to stand by her brothers side as they cautiously made their way closer, "Grandpa Shermie didn't say anything about you being a doctor."
Stan looked down at his outfit. The white lab coat had yellowish stains along the bottom, and his gloves were hanging out from where he'd shoved them in his pocket. Underneath his suit was as snappy as it always was, nothing like the patched up clothes the kids and the guards were wearing.
"I'm not-"
"Oh, Dr. Pines is a doctor alright," one of the guards cut in, the same one still chewing on something, "The best one around!"
Stan scowled at him, then at all his buddies who were nodding in agreement.
"Just because I'm smarter than all the idiots in town, doesn't mean-"
"He knows just about everything there is to know about anything," One of the others interrupted, a girl with her short hair pulled back into a small pony tail, "He's modest though, just wears the coat so anyone can spot him in an emergency."
"I wear this thing because McGucket kept crying if I don't."
"What'd we say, modest."
Stan sighed, not bothering to keep the argument going. It turned out that being the only person in the End Times who kept up trying to understand physics and had a vested interest in keeping electricity going and supplies coming into town automatically made you a doctor, even if you didn't graduate high school and weren't actually the genius scientist who lived in the woods. The townsfolk didn't even have the grace to act disappointed when he admitted to not being his brother three months into society collapsing, they'd just been happy he had the beginnings of ideas on how to figure out how to keep their valley safe.
And that he'd stopped the brain damaging cult before everyone went insane.
In any case, he had better things to do than have the same argument for the millionth time in a row.
Like taking in his great niece and nephew.
More importantly, watching them step past the gate, and through the barrier that kept the town safe from the worst of the horrors everywhere else was experiencing.
The barrier that, the moment they crossed it, turned Mirabelle's tattoos into a riot of already flaking unicorns and rainbows, flipped Marshall's hat around, regrew the missing half of Mirabelle's hair and slapped a hairband on it, gave her back her sleeves, and turned Marshall's crossbow into a water gun.
In less than a second the two apocalypse survival twins were gone, replaced by two kids that wouldn't look out of place in a playground thirty years ago. All that remained of their haggard lifestyle was their scuffed up dirty shoes and the wild look in their eyes.
The wild look that ramped up as they stood there in shock, staring down at themselves in open mouthed horror.
A flash in the corner of his eye didn't even warrant a glance, and the smile across Stan's face became more genuine as he heard the guards guffaw and slap the newest picture on the mockery board.
"What, never stepped through an anti weirdness barrier?" Stan asked, stepping forwards and grabbing the two kids by their backpacks before they could make a break for it, "Didn't Sherm warn you?"
"Wuh- Warn us?" Marshall squeaked, yanking out a plastic knife from its sheath and looking at the water gun in his hand in bewilderment, "Wh- Wh-"
"MY TATTOOS!" Mirabelle screamed, rubbing her arms and pulling at her freshly grown hair, "WHAT HAPPENED TO MY TATTOOS!"
"Don't worry Maranda-"
"Maranda?"
"Its just temporary!" Stan explained, making a pit stop at the guard house to get a copy of their picture before dragging the kids back towards town, "Or permanent. Depends on if you ever go outside the barrier again. Or wait."
Stan frowned, thinking, before looking down at M-something's new peeling temporary tattoos. What had once been whatever they'd been were now cutesy unicorns and fairies, with bright colors and child friendly depictions of hugging and friendship.
"Now that I think about it, those might be gone forever."
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!"
Ignoring the two tweens freaking out over being normalfied, Stan dragged them through the worlds fastest tour of town. What had once been a small logging town tucked away from the world was now basically the capital of the west coast. Tiny buildings and homely shops had been replaced by a bustling markets and towering apartment complexes. Most of the populace was human, but other creatures dotted the crowd here and there. Things that had once survived by hiding in the shadows, then driven out when those shadows came to life and started eating people.
Gnomes were the most frequent, being the towns main power suppliers and coming in in droves once things in the woods starting eating them more, but there were other things too. Things not weird enough to survive in the world outside, but would have once gotten double and triple and even quadruple takes in Stan's time.
Stan had to hold the kids back from attacking anything that moved too suddenly, and had to tuck them under his arms and sprint away from the unicorns. Thankfully everyone was understanding, having had more than one family immigrate from outside with tales of human eating horned horses and smoking multi-multi bears. He barreled through their introductions, hastily showed off the more important locations, like his lab and the McMansion, then whisked them back to his house.
The house, which was no longer hidden in the woods and now surrounded by a stupidly large "Science" institution, was also no longer the run down creepy house Stan had... acquired, all those years ago. Once he's unwillingly established himself as the only person with any brains around here, the town had been quick to make sure he had everything he needed to 'science' out their problems. Any loose board or faulty pipe was fixed up or replaced, every book had been shoved on his shelves, and what had once been his brothers lab and then his almost tourist show room was now a classroom, where he was forced to go five times a week to try and shove information into a bunch of brats heads.
"And here we are!" Stan yelled over the screaming children in his arms, "Home sweet home! The place you'll be spending the next few years until you've got the skills to survive out there on your own!"
"NO!" M-something girl screamed, trying to bite him and kick at his back, "I REFUSE!"
"I ALSO REFUSE!" Marshall yelled out in agreement, "I HATE THIS PLACE!"
"Ehh you just got here," Stan kicked open the door and deposited them inside, slamming it shut before they could lunge for freedom, "give it a chance to grow on you."
"Grow on me? Grow on me?" M-something shrieked, before opening her mouth and pointing at her teeth, "What the Hell are these!"
It sounded more like 'wha the he er theze', but the braces made it clear what the problem was.
Still.
"No cursing," Stan scolded, grabbing a spray bottle from a nearby shelf and spritzing her in the face, "And those are braces. Musta had some dental issues. We don't have an orthodontist."
"What's an orthodontist?"
"Not important. Whats important is, you're here now, and you'll be here until I can be sure you won't get eaten out there trying to survive on your own." Stan turned them around and pushed them down the hall towards the stairs, trying not to trip on any of the books piled up around the floor, "Now stop complaining and get moving. We got ground rules to go over and I haven't had lunch yet."
With more than a little wrangling, Stan managed to get the children upstairs into the attic, get them to let go of their backpacks and let them run around screaming until they ran out of steam, then dragged them back downstairs so he could finally get something to eat and learn what their names were.
Watching them snarl and shove food into their mouths, he could see the long and tiresome road ahead of him. Not only did he have to keep up with the shitty job of making sure the town didn't collapse under everyone else's stupidity, he'd have to reign in two semi-feral children, teach them how to act in what remained of their society, learn and remember their names, and finish fixing the portal downstairs.
Years ago, when he'd been living out of his car and dreaming of a life that'd never be his, he'd fantasize about the world ending. About letting go of responsibility, and reveling in the chaos of it all. No more money worries, no more having to bow to others whims to survive, just taking what he wanted, and laughing as everyone else cowered and panicked around him.
Never had he thought he'd have to be responsible for the survival of one of the last safe havens in the world. Never would he think he'd be the one they'd look to to solve all their problems. Never would he think he'd be forced to do it, not because he cared about them or the rest of the world, but because if this little piece of society collapsed so would any hope of rescuing his brother.
That's why he woke up every day, the slim but growing hope that one day Ford would come back, and Stan would finally be free of the title of 'Smartest man on Earth.'
He was almost there too. After thirty years of learning everything there was to know about physics, then creating a whole new field of physics to account for all the new physics, Stan was closer than he'd ever been.
Soon, Ford would be home, Stan's shitty job would be his, and he could finally, finally be free.
