In the rev!falls Carla listened to her grandkids wishing they have a different major because it's away Stan and Ford. Carla throw her hat in the circle and say my aim is getting better! Stan face turn red and Ford stare at Carla. Please write this. And I love you work
Okay I can’t really give too much away about this episode in my reverse falls universe. So I’m gonna keep it super brief.
Stan didn’t really believe that running for Mayor was the best path for him to take. After everything that had happened these past few weeks, a mayoral election seemed like small potatoes. But while the world’s impending doom was remaining stagnant, Stan thought now was a good opportunity to wrestle some power away from the Northwests. Plus, he had always thought this town of backwards idiots needed some strong leadership. Someone to wrangle all the hapless sheep together.
After literally throwing his hat into the ring, Stan was confident that he could make a good candidacy. No one else was volunteering to compete other than the current mayor herself. With some good old fashioned Pines charm and America’s cutest twins at his back up, he had a pretty good chance. The people of Gravity Falls were easy fodder, and with a few well placed lies, this election was in the bag.
Stan’s smug confidence deflated like a balloon when a dark red fez was thrown into the circle.
She couldn’t have just left it alone.
Stan turned to see Carla Mccorckle standing tall and proud in the middle of the isle, her two grandchildren seated to the side of her with eyes bulging out of their sockets. Every persons attention was turned to the woman in the centre of the room like she was the sun.
“Well, would ya look at that,” Carla called out, a triumphant sparkle in her eyes and a mocking grin on her lips. “My aim is getting better.”
Origin story time! I thought I’d add some more reverse Starla stuff that I’ve been working on. Hope y'all enjoy!
Carla wasn’t surprised that Stan had gotten a lot uglier after all these years. His face sagged with heavy wrinkles and his strange orange nose was dotted with spots and bumps.
The scowl on his face didn’t help with his looks.
That aside, his hair looked a lot nicer when it was neatly combed back and trimmed at the nape of his neck. She shivered at the memory of the mullet, glad that those days were obviously behind him. He was wearing those thick rimmed glasses again, even though she hadn’t seen him wearing them since the first year of high school. It almost made her smile to see him again. Almost.
When they entered the Yumberjacks diner, Gideon was quick to run off to the front counter and start ordering their food. Of course it would be a few more minuets than usual, since the kid liked to talk the ear off of whoever was working at the front counter that day. Carla meanwhile looked for a place to sit. When her eyes grazed over the hunched form of Stan Pines, she was taken aback. The breath was nearly knocked out of her when her gaze landed on the boy from her childhood, now in his sixties and looking so worn. He sat alone in his own booth, dressed in a blue powder suit and scowling down at the cup of coffee placed on the table in front of him.
It was a shock to see him in Gravity Falls of all places. She didn’t think he would ever want to return. After thirty years of no contact, he just popped back into town without warning. It was jarring to say the least, but she ended up approaching him anyway. Getting a closer look at him, she was able to discern the tacky American flag pinned to the lapels of his suit. She rose an eyebrow at the little detail.
“You suddenly patriotic, Pines?” Carla asked as she leaned casually against the booth seat opposite to him. Not exactly a fond greeting from one old friend to another, but Carla couldn’t say they were really friends anymore. Not after the rift that had been torn between them from the years of disconnection. Though the two of them were certainly old.
Stan’s head snapped up at the sound of her voice, eyes widening when he saw her standing before him. He took a moment to size her up, taking in her current wardrobe and appearance the same way she did for him.
“You’re still here,” he remarked, his gravely voice was a lot more rough than it used to be. Did he suddenly become a chain smoker? “I would’ve thought you’d skip town by now.”
“And I thought you’d never come back,” Carla replied, raising a questioning eyebrow. She crossed her arms and regarded him. It felt strange to see him again after all these years. She felt like there was so much she needed to say to him. Explain what had happened since he left and convey all the emotions that had flushed through her in the last thirty years, but she found it impossible to form the words. She was a different women now, no longer the starving and desperate girl she had been when he’d last seen her. There was so much to say, yet there were no words that would do it justice. So she stayed silent.
“Wasn’t my idea,” he said, looking annoyed with his surroundings. Narrowed and hateful brown eyes surveyed the diner in mild disgust. “The kids wanted to settle a permanent establishment. They thought the ‘atmosphere’ of this place would attract a crowd.”
Despite not actually keeping in touch, Carla had been keeping tabs on Stan Pines. Which was made extremely easy for her by him constantly being under the limelight. Shockingly enough this limelight didn’t stem from his continuous run ins with the law, but from owning and managing a popular traveling magic act.
The Tent of Telepathy was just as tacky as it sounded. A magic/psychic show that had been making its way across America for the past four years. From the bustling streets of New York to the backwoods of small towns, the magicians commonly known as the Telepathy Twins had made their mark on the world. Mabel and Dipper Pines were known for putting on impressive illusions and light shows. The twins also displayed prowess in acts of hypnosis and, of course, telepathy. They were about as famous as second hand magicians could get, even though they weren’t even twelve years old.
When Carla had heard that Stan was the manager of his great niece and nephews traveling magic act, she couldn’t believe it. Nor could she believe the fact that Stan was reportedly the twins legal guardian. But as news constantly rolled in about the shows success, she found it hard to deny Stan’s new law abiding career. From a two-bit conman to a respectable manager and agent for a rising star and starlet. Stanley Pines had certainly done well for himself. Even though he wasn’t technically Stanley Pines anymore.
But why would he choose to return to Gravity Falls?
“I thought your show had settled permanently in New York,” Carla prodded, watching his reaction for any sort of clue as to why he was really here. Stan was a pathological liar, and he more than likely had an ulterior motive to returning. Perhaps he was running out of money. Or running from the law.
“Had a damn good thing going too,” Stan grumbled, begrudgingly drinking his coffee before wrinkling his nose in disgust as the bitterness settled on his tongue. “Making good money and had lots of gullible idiots willing to pay for a ticket. And somehow those kids thought this place would have a better turn out.” He scoffed loudly, directing a little too much attention towards himself. “As if. This shitty little road stop isn’t even on the map. You’d have to be dumber than the hicks that live here to drive up to this nowhere town to see a magic show.”
Carla had to smirk at the vulgarity he used when speaking of this town. That certainly hadn’t changed. “In my experience, the tourist turn out isn’t too bad.”
That caused a sharp half grin to slash across Stan’s lips. “That’s right,” he said, a reflective lilt in his voice. “I heard that you turned that old dump into a museum for not so natural history.”
Carla shrugged off the insult to her place of business. “It pays the bills,” she sighed. “I’ve got a kid to look after, ya know?”
Brown eyes flicker to the young boy with striking white hair still chatting a mile a minute at the front counter. Even at nine years old, the kid knew that most people couldn’t resist his cuteness. He never missed an opportunity to exploit his hold on adults and keep their attention as he talked at them about anything that came to his mind. The kid really did like to talk.
“I heard about that too,” Stan stated and Carla didn’t miss the sympathy that was seeping into his tone. She quickly braced herself for what was coming. “I’m sorry,” he continued, his voice dropping a few octaves. He couldn’t seem to meet her eyes, all the cockiness fading away. “About your youngest.”
She had gotten used to the condolences. She had gotten used to the constant reminders of Penny all around her life. She had even stopped wincing when people brought her youngest daughter up. But it never stopped hurting deep in her gut. Like a stab that never failed to twist in the worst possible way.
Carla tried her best to give a show smile, but it was more shaky than she would have liked. “Thanks,” she responded. The same response she always had when someone would apologize for the death of her child. What else could she say? If any other words came out of her mouth, she might break down.
The last thing she wanted to do was linger on this subject; it was already hard enough to talk about it. So she quickly jumped back to Stan and his plight. “And I heard you’ve got yourself in a similar situation. Only with double trouble.”
Stan’s face shifted from some what uncomfortable to something akin to annoyed. “Yeah those little knuckle heads are a real nuisance,” Stan stated, rolling his eyes. The twitch at his lips gave away a flicker of fondness when he spoke of his new wards. Though repression of affection was a classic Pines trait. “They’re lucky their show is making me so much money.”
“And where are the little celebrities?” Carla asked, glancing around the diner to see if she could find them wandering about. She didn’t know exactly what they looked like, but she knew enough to see they weren’t in the diner.
“They’re supervising the set up of the tent,” he replied with a shrug, as if it were completely ordinary to trust eleven year olds with such responsibility. “Mabel’s a pretty good designer. She had a bunch of ideas for the tent set.”
“Meanwhile you’re sitting in a diner drinking coffee?” Carla asked, giving him a skeptical and disapproving look.
“I’m supervising the guys building my mansion,” Stan said, nonchalant as he leaned back in his seat.
“By sitting in a diner drinking coffee?” Stan only shrugged once again. Carla decided to stick on another thing he had said. “You’re building a mansion for yourself.”
“Well I was going to settle for the houses that were already here,” he snorted, crossing his arms over his chest. As if he were the child being forced to move to a new place. “It’s not going to be as impressive as that big mansion on the hill top, but it’s gonna be a lot better than the other shacks in this town.”
“I’m surprised those twins convinced you to move here,” Carla said, eyebrow arched in curiosity. “I would think you would refuse to return, especially after what happened to Ford.”
As soon as the name rolled off her tongue, Stan froze. His hands and shoulders were stiff as if he was made of stone, and his face was as white as a sheet. She saw the shock and spark of horror in his iris. How long had it been since he heard that name, she wondered, spoken from the lips of someone who knew who he was.
“But then, I suppose Stanford is technically right here,” Carla continued, unable to completely hide the anger in her voice. “Interesting how that worked out, isn’t it Stanley.”
It was uncalled for, she knew that as soon as she said it, but the bitterness still resided deep within Carla’s stomach. She still remembered reading that article detailing the death of Stan Pines. She still remembered the feeling of her heart breaking in her chest. She still remembered sobbing her eyes out for three nights straight. And she still vividly remembered the red staining her vision when she heard that, allegedly, Stanford Pines had used his brother’s life insurance money to buy a casino.
Stan’s gaze darted down to the coffee cup before reluctantly returning to meet her eyes. There was a firm resolve in his face, strongly resembling the stone-like facial expression of his father in a rather disturbing way.
“Stanley Pines is dead,” Stan replied, voice hardened and cold like ice.
Carla couldn’t shake the sense of unfamiliarity ticking in her chest around this Stan. Something in his posture and the way he spoke stuck out to her. There was a certain confidence in him that hadn’t been there before. Sure, Stan had always had a kind of charisma and grit to him. But he had never seemed so certain of who he was and where he was meant to be in the world. Not while she knew him. This Stan seemed so sure of himself and his convictions, as if he was on a clear cut path with his destination in sight. Whether he was happy with that destination was open for debate.
Carla ignored the feeling and levelled her stare. “So the papers say.”
Stanley’s glare was focused back onto the cup off coffee. His fingers curled so tightly around the mug that Carla could see his knuckles fading to white. He took another large gulp of coffee, swallowing half the drink in one go.
“Are you going to tell anyone?” he asked, voice much more reserved and quiet than she thought it could be. His eyes refused to meet hers.
“Am I going to tell everyone that you stole your brother’s name?” Carla asked in mock curiously, “No Stan, I’ll let you reveal the truth yourself. It’s not like anyone will believe me anyway.”
There was a long silence that followed her statement. Neither of them moved and inch or made a sound. Carla watched precariously as Stan continued to gaze into the cup of coffee, as if there was some kind of solace at the bottom, hidden beneath the dark steaming liquid. Hearing her confirmation, that she would indeed keep his secret, seemed to have a positive effect. A cloud of security seemed envelope him, glazing his eyes with relief and relaxing his tired limbs. No longer was he stiff and stern, echoing the features of the unrelenting and unimpressed Filbrick Pines. He was back to the gruff Stanley Pines; a man that was much more likely to smile without breaking his face.
“Thanks for that, I guess. Anyway, you shouldn’t be throwing stones,” Stan grumbled, rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck. “I may have taken the name and the money, but you turned that house into a cheap tourist trap.”
The accusatory tone he took on when pointing out the Mystery Shack caused Carla to bristle. Before she could defend her actions, saying that she had to stay in that Shack and that he knew the reason just as well as she did, Stan’s dower scowl shifted into a sharp grin. That was enough to stop the words from leaving her lips.
“But the idea you had wasn’t to shabby,” Stan stated, a bark of laughter emerged from deep in his gut. “Cashing in on this town’s local legends and local idiots, eh? I can respect that. In fact, I was thinkin’ of doing something similar.”
Her eyebrows furrowed at that comment. He better not be going where she thought he was going. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I’m setting up another building outside the tent to sell merchandise,” Stan replied casually. “Stuff for the show, y'know. Plus I’m gonna have some exhibits on weird things and monsters. Calling it the Mystery Museum.” He swept dramatically his hands across the space above his head, as if he was envisioning the building sign as he announced its title.
Carla stared at him, aghast. “You can’t name you’re thing the Mystery Museum!” she yelled. That attracted more than a few stares of curious diner patrons, but Carla couldn’t bring herself to care. “That’s violating copyright! I’ll sue you!”
Stan snorted in derision. “It’s not like you own the word 'mystery’,” he snarked, crossing his arms, triumph causing him to straiten up and puff out his chest like a proud peacock. “Besides you’re little shack isn’t exactly the ritz. I’m just gonna give the people a better option.”
“Like hell you are!” Carla shouted, balling her hands into fists. This stupid greedy jerk was going to try and run her business into the ground. It was so like him to do this. As if that damn telepathy show wasn’t making him enough money, he had the nerve to rip off the Mystery Shack and steal her customers. The bastard. “This is my turf! You’ve already got the twin show or whatever.”
“Yeah but I had to sell the casino when we moved here,” Stan explained with a shrug, as if that was enough to excuse the idea that he was intentionally plagiarizing her idea. “I needed another outlet for money. No way am I gonna be dependant on those kids.”
“There is no way you need that much money,” Carla argued. She could feel all the eyes of the people within the diner. She knew for a fact that Gideon was watching the exchange, but not even that fact was going to stop her. The same stubbornness from their childhood tiffs was bubbling up from deep within her stomach. “And there are times of other things you could do! Why would you decide to make that your 'outlet’ for money?”
“It’s called 'healthy competition’ Carla baby,” Stan said, the smug smirk. He stood from his seat and dropped a few bills onto the table. “It’s about time you had some. Don’t take it personally.”
Stan didn’t bother offering any further explanation as to why he had decided to pop randomly in her life and declare himself her business rival. He simply walked out of the diner with that damnable smirk on his lips. Though Carla had to guess that his reasoning was rooted on trying to piss her off. Stan had always been competitive when they were kids. No matter what she did, he was always trying to one up her. And now that he was being forced to live in this town once again, he had nothing better to do than terrorize her. This whole idea was heavily reminiscent of the days when Carla would start something as simple as playing on the swing and Stan would start a competition to see who could swing the highest. Only they weren’t children anymore and she was undeniably much more pissed.
Carla watched Stan leave, her arms shaking with rage and her mind reeling with all the information that had just been dumped on her lap. Stan Pines was back in Gravity Fall. He was staying in Gravity Falls. He was setting up a Tent of Telepathy attraction. He was making the Mystery Museum to compete with her Mystery Shack and make even more money. His Museum was probably going to be leagues better than her Shack due to better funding.
All of this was enough to make her tremble with untapped and restrained loathing, blood boiling and hissing beneath the surface of her skin. “Stan Pines,” she growled to herself. “You just made a powerful enemy.”
If he thought she was going down without a fight, he had another thing coming. Stanley had just started a war.
Guess what! I’m not dead! Sorry for the wait guys, I’ve been in a writing rut for the past few days. I hope to get more stuff out soon.
