viceroy writes

29 | she/her | 18+ minors dni. known as neverdidnoharm on ao3. pfp by @strawberryoverlordart

[viceroywrites]

mel | 29 | she/her

i write for the following fandoms:

venture bros.

metalocalypse

gravity falls

potentially other fandoms (anime, other cartoons)

all my writing is in the masterlist.

deja vu masterlist is here

requests for headcanons & drabbles are now open!

dni if you are proship, antiship, post dead dove content.

some of my fics are 18+, minors dni.

[viceroywrites]

hello!

mini-update, i have started writing deja vu again and am one-fourth through stan's route for the next chapter.

i also rewrote the latest part for ford's route as i wasn't satisfied with it so give it a reread!

my writing spark is coming back so as always, feel free to leave any requests or asks even if they're just headcanon requests!

[viceroywrites]

update:

it's been a min since i checked in - i've been taking a long break from writing in general since my work hours increased but it's still on my radar to finish deja vu and potentially write more vbros content.

i also am hoping to finish my pickles x reader fanfic that i started back in 2014 after a thorough rewatch of mtl lmao

my requests are always open so please feel free to drop a request for a drabble/headcanon in my asks! :>

[viceroywrites]

Not a question but you are singlehandedly feeding my Gary obsession since my bf introduced me to Venture Bros, thank u for ur service to my cause 🫡

ahhhhh, i'm so glad to be helping feed the gary obsession, welcome to the gary lovers club my friend! 🫡

(also s/o to your bf for introducing you to the vbros)

[viceroywrites]

Hi there! I was wondering if you could do henchman 21 x reader holiday edition. Some cute little hcs about how him and an s/o would spend the season together! Thank you so much 🥰

omg absolutely, thanks sm for your request @echomonsterdraws! hope you enjoy! (sorry if my characterization of gary is a bit rusty, it's been a while since i've written for him)

🎁gary (henchman 21) x reader holiday headcanons 🎁

this guy takes gift giving seriously, he has a meticulously cataloged list of potential gift ideas that he's been collecting, making sure to write down things that you pick up in stores and decide to put back on shelf or mention that you'd like.

you know those holiday miniature villages? these ones for reference:

he inherited some from his mom and now makes it a holiday tradition to get a new set and put it together with you during the holidays.

another tradition i could see him getting into is advent calendars, he tries to get creative each year and pick unique ones aside from just the chocolate candy ones. the one year you get him a star wars lego advent calendar, and he has to fight back the urge to rip open all the doors.

expect to be cuddled up in blankets with him by the fire all season long. this guy will protest if you try to get up, complaining that you stepping away for even a second will make him cold. "dude, it's freezing, come back!" "gary, you're literally by the fire!"

i have a feeling he has a very strict 'we only open presents on christmas day' mentality. not sure why but i can just see him go "noo, we can only open gifts on the day of, it ruins the essence of the holiday if we open it before!" (he totally would cave at some point and let you open one gift the night before)

this guy totally puts up mistletoe in random places just to steal a kiss from you.

you step out of the kitchen, a mug of hot cocoa in hand, "hey gare, when's our next dnd-"

you pause, seeing him with a candy cane in his mouth looking not at you but right above you. your gaze follows his, and it locks onto the mistletoe hanging conveniently above the threshold.

fuzzy sock clad footsteps follow soon after, and he stands in front of you with a grin across his face.

"gare, it doesn't count if you walk up to it after i'm standing underneath it."

"it totally counts, dude! as long we're both underneath it, we have to kiss. otherwise, who knows what could happen? we could totally curse ourselves for the rest of the holiday season." he waves his candy cane around to emphasize his points.

you raise your eyebrow in amusement, unable to resist his pleading gaze.

"alright..." you lean forward, pressing your lips against his, the taste of hot cocoa and peppermint combining together.

[viceroywrites]

heyo, i just wanted to say i don’t really read your stories anymore because i’ve moved fandoms, but i still love being tagged when you release a new chapter :3 🫶

omg thanks for reaching out!

that's so sweet to hear you still enjoy being tagged, sorry if it spams you ever! <3

[viceroywrites]

deja vu - part nine (ford route)

planning out your road trip through the pacific northwest, you find yourself inexplicably drawn to the town of gravity falls.

little did you know that this town held more memories than you could have possibly imagined.

too bad you didn't remember any of them.

stan x fem!reader / ford x fem!reader

choose your own adventure / contains fluff and angst (w/ happy ending)

part eight | part ten

interested in the stan route? click here for masterlist.

a!n: finally finished with ford's chapter, been dealing with some personal life stuff but finally sat down and finished the chapter. i hope it was worth the wait, thank you to everyone who has still continued to keep up with this story. should be wrapping this up by the end of this year, hope you enjoy!

tag list: @awitchersbard | @theilluminatidragonqueen | @jazzypop-op | @jonndoe | @chaimshelii | @starship606 | @swimmingrascalbatdragon | @stanfordsbaby | @gxstiess | @skrunkle11 | @valinbean | @funkyenby | @therealgoofygoober69 | @theblueraven | @adrian920155 | @im-kinda-bored | @miarabanana | @leo4242564 | @soupieoopieisloopie | @marvelous-maniac | @opossumclown | @m4x-3dw | @nothingbutcloud | @reivelmin | @grimometry | @walmartjim | @reiofsuns2001 | @bunni-teeth81 | @satorisgirl | @pen900 | @creat0r-cat | @lackingoriginalthoughts | @fries11 | @sunniskyies | @policedeer | @sadslasher13 | @kittenlover614 | @margibees | @lunnybunny12 | @the-hufflebird-girl | @sawendel l | @shamrockfish | @atseoks | @luckybatbones | @ryuyukawa | @mekkori | @bigbodycity | @kawaii1369 | @333brat333 | @styxxcrossing

You had no idea where you were going.

It was almost as if your hands were their own independent agents, turning the wheel effortlessly. Muscle memory had kicked into first gear while your mind was preoccupied by the waves of memories that were crashing down.

By the time you had snapped out of your rumination, you found yourself at the edge of the Floating Cliffs, overlooking the cozy town of Gravity Falls.

You parked the car, and stepped out, taking your first full breath since stumbling upon Fiddleford and Ford watching the tapes depicting the terrors that Bill had subjected you to all those years ago. You tried to push them away when they continued to bubble to the surface, fixing your gaze on something, anything to distract from the memories. 

You find yourself submerged back into the repressed memories of your nightmares when your eyes catch the sight of a distant flowing waterfall.

You gasp for air, arms thrashing around desperately. 

“You know I’ve always wondered… if humans are meant to be the most advanced species on Earth biologically speaking, why make your bodies so fragile and flimsy?” Bill comments, ignoring your gasping. “I mean look at you, I mean I only kept you submerged for three minutes. A puny little goldfish could survive this!”

Your whole body is drenched, soaking wet and shivering after being dunked for nth time into the water. It dangles right above the dark murky waters, a flick of Bill’s finger the only thing stopping you from being submerged once again. 

Bill had unlocked your fear of drowning that you had tried to bury deep into your mindscape, and was using that newfound knowledge to the fullest in tonight’s torture.

You find yourself choking on your words, any air inhaled only resulted in a violent cough. “F-Fuck you, Cipher.”

Bill’s eye widened in amusement, “Oh-ho, and here I thought you had lost all your bite, Gemstone.” It narrows at the challenge, his voice distorting in tone, “Let’s take care of that, shall we?”

It happens so quickly that you don’t have time to shut your mouth, causing water to rush in. You gasp, bubbles escaping your lips as you aspirate. Your throat begins to close in on itself, choking on the liquid. You try to pull your head out of water but Bill’s invisible pull keeps you submerged.

Your vision goes dark, your hand extending out to reach the surface but it’s just out of reach.

You snap back into consciousness after dissociating, your brain unable to register that you were no longer submerged. You gasp for air as if you are drowning in real time. The sensation of your necklace around your neck turns your hypervigilance into overdrive, overstimulated by the feeling and feeling eerily similar to Bill’s fingers grasping your neck, and your hands tug it off with force. 

It takes a moment to ground yourself back into reality, trying to anchor yourself by pressing your heels to the ground and digging your hands into the blades of grass.

Take a deep breath, focus on what’s around you. Your eyes slowly open to survey what’s in front of you.

It looked like any other sleepy town that one would pass by during their trek up the Pacific Northwest

That’s all it was supposed to be when your car broke down almost two weeks ago and yet it contained years of history that were now engraved back into your psyche.

“How did we even get here, Ford?” You say outloud, wanting to process what you just saw to yourself. You pull your knees up to your chest and your hands pick at the grass underneath you. “I don’t even know who to blame at this point. I know it wasn’t all you, a lot of it was Bill… and maybe part of it was on me too.” You admit, wincing at the thought.

Could you have done more? 

Should you have put your foot down and given the ultimatum sooner?

Should you have just accepted the offer for your dream job and not made the move out with Ford?

All these what ifs circle through your head, and all you can do is let out a heavy sigh as you flop back onto the grass, looking up at the clouds as if it held the answers. You wonder if Ford would even come looking for you. He was prone to give you space after you watched the memories, feeling like you need the time to process and come to your own conclusions of what you saw without him swaying how you should feel.

At this point, you were done with the space. You know everything now. No stone was left unturned, and you had all of your memories back.

You just wanted to talk things out. 

No matter how painful it all was, you wanted Ford there with you to process the pain together.

You just didn’t know if he would come.

-

“Stanley, where are the keys?” Ford shakes Stan’s shoulders with urgency, waking him from his deep slumber. He searched high and low in the most sensible places he could to find the keys to the car, but they were nowhere to be found, and time was of the essence.

“Huh? What?” Stan suddenly shoots up, pulling his eye mask over his face. His eyes squint and he glares up at Ford, “What the hell, Ford? I was in the middle of this amazing dream…”

Ford cuts Stan off before he can begin rambling about most likely another dream of him winning the lottery, “Where are the keys to your car? I need to go find Y/N.” Stan took a minute to process the information before responding dryly, “What’d you do to piss her off this time? Don’t you usually just give her space to cool off?” Ford groans, grabbing his brother’s shirt to emphasize his point, “Stanley, please, she just saw our last fight, and if I don’t go after her now, I’m just making the same mistakes I made all those years ago!” 

Stan blinks slowly before reaching over to grab his jacket that was haphazardly thrown onto the edge of the bed. Rummaging through the pockets, he grabs the keys, places them in Ford’s hand and grins up at him, “About time.”

Ford stares down at the keys and back at Stan before giving him a big hug, “Thank you, Stanley.” “When did you get all soft, Sixer? I better be the best man at your wedding for this.” Stan grins, patting him on the back before turning him around by the shoulders,  “Go get her, Ford.”

Ford rushes down the stairs - he was tempted to just leap through the window like he did one time as it was a much cooler and effective way of getting outside, but Stanley yelled at him for breaking the glass last time he did that. His feet carried him to the car parked out front, and he began driving immediately, knowing exactly where to go.

The Floating Cliffs had been an escape for the both of you at times. Whenever Ford would disappear needing to clear his head, you would find him there, sitting next to him and resting your head on his shoulder in silence. The silence was a message on its own, I’m here whenever you’re ready.

Somehow, he made it to the Cliffs in record time though he was driving quite recklessly, taking sharp turns along the winding roads and his foot constantly on the gas. Finding your car peeking through the bushes, Ford puts the car in park. Despite his frantic energy before, the adrenaline had worn off, and now he was faced with the realization that he had to face you.

“What am I even going to say to her?” Ford mutters to himself, gripping the steering wheel. He racks his brain for the right answer, but then a conversation he had with Stanley at sea hits him, giving him the clarity he needs.  

“You know that brain of yours is gonna bite you in the ass one day, Sixer.” Stan points out before taking a swig of his beer bottle, the condensation rolling down the glass.

Ford rolls his eyes, nursing the beer bottle in his hand. They had docked for the evening, having found a dive bar by the seaside and the drinks in front of them starting to stack up. “Stanley, are you still upset over that?”

“Oh, I’m over our petty little argument we had earlier,” Stan scoffs, waving his hand in dismissal, “But I swear you always have to have something to say, always gotta get the last word in.”

“Well, what am I supposed to do? Just sit there and let misinformation run amok?” 

“You could at least try to listen before coming up with a counter. I swear half the time I’m talking, you’re probably just coming up with your argument.” Ford opens his mouth before quickly shutting it as he realizes he’s about to prove Stan right.

Stan grins in satisfaction before taking a swig of his drink, “That’s what I thought.”

He attempts to give himself a mini pep talk before exiting the car, “Alright, Stanford, just let her do the talking. Don’t try to give a reason, just listen.” He recites to himself over and over again before finally opening the door to the car. His legs swing out, carrying him to the cliff’s edge with caution in his steps. He doesn’t know what state you’ll be in, and these recent memories of Bill probably have you on high alert.

There you sit in the grass, trying to tie the thread that had snapped when you ripped off your necklace. Your tongue stuck out in concentration, a habit that Ford found endearing. 

Before he can speak, you ask without looking away from the task in your hands, “How’d you know where I was?”

“We’d frequent this spot whenever either of us needed to clear our heads. You may not have remembered it, but I had a hunch you might be here.” Ford answers, trying not to be startled by the fact that you knew he was there. He surmises that you probably heard his boots crunching against the dirt or heard the car door shut. 

Time stands still as Ford awaits your response with baited breath. His palms are sweaty, his fingers twitching almost reaching for something to fidget with to ease the tension. Your response is simply glancing back at him, your face unreadable at this point before patting the grass next to him. 

He proceeds with caution, settling down in the grass next to you. Despite his pep-talk, Ford was at a loss of how to proceed. Does he speak up first? Does he wait for you to say something? Should he offer an apology first? What does he do with his hands? He curses his brain for overthinking, great for solving equations, terrible for these situations. He’s so lost in his thoughts that it takes you clearing your throat to interrupt them. 

“Lost in your thoughts, Ford?” You ask but it’s more like a statement. You always had a knack for seeing right through him, knowing what was going on in that brain. For once, he’s at a loss for a response, his mouth opening but nothing coming out. Seeing Stanford Pines this way, the man who could hold lectures on the most random topics looking like a fish out of water, causes you to let your guard down and let out a chuckle as you shake your head.

“You know I’m not going to bite your head off, Ford.” You comment, glancing back out at the scenery below. Ford stammers for a bit before muttering, “You could have fooled me over the past few days.” He takes note of the necklace that still is in your hands, seeing your fingers attempting to knot it back together. Extending his hand out, he clicks his tongue to assess the damage when you pass it over to him, “I knew I should have used a chain for this instead of this flimsy piece of string.” His hands begin to busy themselves, a good outlet for his anxious mind.

You take this as an open window to begin speaking, “Did you have any inkling of what was happening at the time? What Bill was doing to me?” Ford shakes his head, “No… I had no idea the extent that he was harming you until last evening.” You anticipate a long-winded explanation to follow, but it doesn’t. Instead, Ford continues to focus on the necklace, his extra appendage to prop the string up in a way that makes it easier to tie the knot.

You continue on, “I’m assuming from what I saw that he tormented you too.” Ford let out a sigh and nodded his head. It was the first time he had really spoken about the tortures Bill had subjected him too not only in his mindscape, but that night that he took his body for a joy ride.

“He did, indeed. I’m thankful that I installed this,” Ford knocks on his temple, the sound of metal alarming you, “Otherwise, it could have happened again when I returned to this dimension.” 

“Did you really put a metal plate in your head?” You ask, eyeing Ford in concern.

“Unfortunately, yes. Truly a nightmare if I had to go through those metal detectors they make you go through now in airports. Luckily or should I say unluckily, my brother had me put on a no fly list when he used my identity.” Ford shakes his head.

“What did… Bill do to you before I found you that night? I swear if I didn’t, you could’ve died of hypothermia at that rate.” You ask, wanting to understand what he put Ford through. Despite everything that happened, you wouldn’t wish on your worst enemy the paranoia that Bill caused the two of you. 

“Bill was obsessed with the odd and the bizarre, nothing was off the table as long as it amused him.” Ford explained, pausing his work on the necklace briefly, “Using your body to harass the townsfolk of Gravity Falls, nails being hammered into your hand, spiders down your throat…” Ford continues to list off the various ways Bill used his body, your eyebrows raising in disbelief the more he keeps going.

“And there’s that Flirty Gal tattoo on my lower back… I should really get that removed.” Ford grumbles.

“Alright, alright, I get it, Ford.” You place a hand on his shoulder, the thought of Ford with such a flashy tattoo causing a laugh to escape your lips. 

It was sad to know that Ford had been subjected to these things and had no recollection of what was being done with his body other than the tape that you assumed laid out all the things he did that night. A shiver runs down your spine at the thought that there might have been more that wasn’t even captured on camera, but it gave you some sense of comfort to know that Ford understood what it was like for you. 

Hearing this helped you realize that you were all victims to Bill’s games, puppets that he played with for his amusement, and the resentment that built over the years had lumped Ford in your mind into the same category as Bill.

Even if Ford was “special” to Bill in some way, he was still a pawn for Bill’s plans. 

You’re certain now that was Bill’s intention - he just had to say the right things to Ford and press the wrong buttons for you, and sit back and watch as the seeds of doubt he had sewed in your heads bloomed into paranoia and distrust. 

Ford’s expression seemingly softens at the sound of your laughter, glancing back down at the necklace. His thumb runs over the gemstone, its shine just as brilliant as the day you picked it up. 

“Are you sure this is a sunstone? I didn’t expect to come across it this early on into our journey especially considering the conditions.” Ford hums, scratching his chin. 

The two of you had pulled over for a brief rest to stretch your legs, the car cramped as it is filled to the brim with your and Ford’s belongings. You had seen something sparkling in the grass and went to investigate while Ford assessed the road map stretched out across the hood of the car.

“You’re seriously doubting the person who has a degree in geology?” You scoff in mock offense, tossing the gemstone in your hand in front of Ford’s face before catching it quickly. “It’s not that surprising, sunstone in Oregon is formed through copper deposits compared to sunstone found in other regions.”

You continued to admire the stone, holding it up to the sun, “It has a gorgeous pattern, I’m sure once it’s polished that it’ll shine even more brilliantly.” You nudge Ford in the side, a wide smile spread across your face, “This might be a sign, after all, sunstone attracts abundance and prosperity.”

Ford’s nose wrinkles at what you say, staring down at you, “Please do not tell me you are buying into that new age thinking about rocks and gemstones having meanings behind them.” You roll your eyes playfully, reaching up to smooth out the crease in his brow before patting his cheek, “Hey, without new age thinking, we would still believe the world is flat. You should be more open-minded considering your research topic.” You point out, eyes blinking as Ford suddenly leans against your touch and presses a soft kiss against your fingertips.

“Is that kiss your way of admitting I’m right?”

“Perhaps. Now take your sunstone and get in the car, we still have a trek ahead of us.”

“Do you think if you had known back then what Bill was doing, would you have stopped?” Your question snaps him out of a brief trip down memory lane. He looks up to see you looking at him expectantly, your lips pressed tight. 

You wanted to believe that Ford had never intended for the people around him to get hurt in the process of him chasing what he thought would prove his worth. 

You wanted to believe that Ford, while selfish at times, would put the people he loved and cared about first. 

You wanted to trust that the man that you left all those years ago had changed and grown.

In that moment, Ford knew you weren’t truly asking if the circumstances were different, would he have acted differently. After all, you had already asked him a similar question when you first began to uncover your memories with Bill. You knew the answer already, but this time you were looking for a different answer to a different set of questions. 

“Can I trust that you won’t hurt me again?”

“Will things be different this time around?”

For the first time, Ford gives a simple answer, no overly complicated explanation, no need to orate.

“Yes.” Ford says with a sense of finality.

He pauses for a moment to see your reaction, gazing into your eyes with a silent promise.

A promise to spend the rest of his existence rectifying the mistakes he made in the past and to make up for the time the two of you lost.

His breath hitches once your eyes finally lock, and it feels like the air is sucked out of his lungs when your arms wrap around him, embracing him tightly.

“Then I forgive you, Ford.”

It’s overwhelming for him. Feeling you so close, smelling your scent, his head resting on your shoulder. After all these years, Ford had never entertained the possibility that this could happen again. That you would forgive him for his past mistakes, and welcome him back into your life after the pain he caused. His arms that were limp at his sides suddenly pull you in tight, squeezing you into him. 

The two of you sit in the comfort of each other’s embrace before you feel a sudden dampness that begins to coat the fabric of your shirt. 

You attempt to pull back to check on Ford, but his hold on you is too tight, as if he’s terrified that you’ll disappear once again. Your hand rests on the back of his head, your fingers running through his gray locks in an attempt to comfort him.

“Ford? Are you crying?” You ask.

“... No, I seem to be having an allergic reaction to the pollen this time of year." He says through sniffles.

You shake your head, even at his grown age, this man was too stubborn to admit he was crying.

He pulls away reluctantly, his eyes and nose suspiciously red, to place the necklace in his hand back around your neck. 

“Thank you for giving me a second chance…” Ford says, “I promise to never hurt you again.”

“I’m holding you to that, Stanford Pines.” You say, looking down at the necklace. Your thumb runs over the sunstone almost affectionately. The knot that Ford had fashioned was clumsy at best, the frayed ends of the thread being torn sticking out, but the necklace was finally mended. 

“The sun is about to set… perhaps we should make our way back before it gets dark?” Ford asks, extending a hand out to you. Your warm hand envelops around Ford’s, and he helps you to your feet. You dust off the dirt that clung to your bottoms, observing Ford as he takes a moment to look out over the town of Gravity Falls.

Since the day you had reunited, it always seemed as if Ford had something on his mind. A furrow in his brow, his forehead creasing, the restless movement of some limb whether it be his hands or his leg bouncing. The only times you got a glimpse of peace on his features was when he was around the kids and Stan, and this very moment. 

It’s like the weight of the world had finally left his shoulders.

It was nice to see him this way. His guard down, a smile gracing his features.

“Hey… before I leave to head back home, let’s go stargazing again.”

Your offer catches Ford off-guard, and he glances back at you in alarm.

“As much as I would love to, why the sudden proposition?” Ford asks, his curiosity peaking.

“Well, like you said, it was an activity we did often together before, and I’d like to make a new memory of that before I head out.” You explain, toying with the frayed ends of your necklace. “Also, I have way more knowledge of constellations now than I did before… maybe even more than you.”

“Oh really now?” Ford grins, the challenge of his knowledge hooking him in immediately, “We’ll have to see about that… maybe after your going away party.”

You blink, “What going away party?”

Ford freezes, the realization hitting him that it was a surprise being crafted by Mabel. “Uh… did I say going away party, I meant to say…”

You cut him off suddenly, pressing a finger to his lips, “I’ll act surprised, don’t worry, Ford.” You chuckle, seeing how his ears go hot at your sudden touch and pull away. 

You knew that you only had a few days left, which would be packed with activity courtesy of Mabel, and so you purposefully made a point to have one final moment with Ford.

Just the two of you.

You both walked back to your cars, Ford opening your car door for you. You slip inside the driver’s seat and before he can close the door, you speak up, “Hey Ford.”

“Hmm?” He pauses, wondering if there was something else you wanted to hash out before going back. 

“I’m really glad you came to find me. I would’ve come back eventually, but it meant a lot really.” 

“Of course.” Ford says as if it’s a no brainer, staring down at you, “My greatest mistake all those years ago was not running after you. I wasn’t going to make that same mistake again.”

“You better not.” You say lightheartedly, trying to play off how your heart was skipping a beat at his statement. 

Ford lets out a soft chuckle, “I’ll see you back at the Shack, and remember to act surprised when Mabel tells you about the party.” He pats the car hood and walks back to Stan’s car parked a bit further away.

Your cheeks flush at Ford's sudden admission as he walks away. You knew there was still a spark between you and Ford, one that never really died out after all these years, one that you felt almost every night you stared up at the starlit sky, despite your memories being erased.

You were glad.  

You were relieved at the subtle reassurance that maybe that spark could turn into a flame once again.

[viceroywrites]

deja vu - part nine (stan route)

planning out your road trip through the pacific northwest, you find yourself inexplicably drawn to the town of gravity falls.

little did you know that this town held more memories than you could have possibly imagined.

too bad you didn't remember any of them.

stan x fem!reader / ford x fem!reader

choose your own adventure / contains fluff and angst (w/ happy ending)

part eight | part ten

interested in the ford route? click here for masterlist.

a!n: got stuck in a bit of a writer's block this time around but we made it! the next chapters and epilogue should be coming out definitely by the end of this year but thanks to everyone who's been reading since 2024. sorry it's taking me so long to finish this but enjoy this chapter!

tag list: @awitchersbard | @theilluminatidragonqueen | @jazzypop-op | @jonndoe | @chaimshelii | @starship606 | @swimmingrascalbatdragon | @stanfordsbaby | @gxstiess | @skrunkle11 | @valinbean | @funkyenby | @therealgoofygoober69 | @theblueraven | @adrian920155 | @im-kinda-bored | @miarabanana | @leo4242564 | @soupieoopieisloopie | @marvelous-maniac | @opossumclown | @m4x-3dw | @nothingbutcloud | @reivelmin | @grimometry | @walmartjim | @reiofsuns2001 | @bunni-teeth81 | @satorisgirl | @pen900 | @creat0r-cat | @lackingoriginalthoughts | @fries11 | @sunniskyies | @policedeer | @sadslasher13 | @kittenlover614 | @margibees | @lunnybunny12 | @the-hufflebird-girl | @sawendel l | @shamrockfish | @atseoks | @luckybatbones | @ryuyukawa | @mekkori | @bigbodycity | @kawaii1369 | @333brat333 | @styxxcrossing

Two sets of eyes flick back and forth across the kitchen, watching their great uncle pace around the kitchen and the stack of Stancakes grow taller and taller with each minute that passes.

“Uhh, I think that should be enough for the three of us, Grunkle Stan.” Dipper attempts to be the voice of reason, his eyes now following another pancake being flipped into the air. 

“Maybe he’s making some for Soos, and Melody too.” Mabel offers to her brother.

“Huh, what?” Stan finally breaks out of his daze, holding a spatula in his hand. It now registers to him the massive amount of pancakes he’s now made looming in the background. 

“Everything alright, Grunkle Stan?” Dipper asks, not used to seeing his more laidback uncle this tense. He’s never seen Stan pace like this… ever.

“Of course! Everything’s fine, sunshine and unicorns…. or was it rainbows and unicorns?” Stan fumbles over his words awkwardly, shutting the stove off and walking over to place the massive stack in front of the twins.

“You mean sunshine and rainbows?” Mabel offers, her and Dipper exchanging a look while she serves herself a generous portion of the pancakes. 

“Yeah that!” Stan snaps his fingers, sliding into the chair across from the two. Reaching for his mug, he takes a sip, but his hand is jittery and shakes the mug around. As he lowers it, two sets of big brown eyes stare back at him.

“Grunkle Stan, your hand is literally shaking…” Dipper points out, stabbing a stack of pancakes onto his plate. “You didn’t mistake my Smile Dip for your sugar again, did you?” Mabel comments, causing her brother to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Mabel, why do you even store it in a jar?”

“Well, it’s easier to pour out in a jar instead of the packets! I’m trying to practice moderation!” Mabel defends herself.

Stan shakes his head, resting his chin on his hand while the other ruffles Mabel’s hair affectionately, “Just had a long night, kids. Your Grunkle is running on fumes and coffee at this point.” Dipper raises his eyebrow, wondering why Stan was up late last night, but decides not to question him further. He reaches over, snatching the mug out of Stan’s hand, who tries to grab it back but fumbles, his arm knocking over part of the stack of pancakes that flop to the floor.

“No more coffee, Grunkle Stan. Go and get some rest.” Dipper says.

Stan is about to rebuttal, but sees the genuine concern in his niece and nephew’s eyes. Ugh, they’re using the classic twin doe eyes - he should’ve never taught them that. He slides his chair back and puts his hands up in defeat, “Alright, alright! I’ll go take a nap, stay out of trouble and you gotta tell Soos and Melody if you’re leaving the Shack - got it?” The twins nod their heads in understanding and shoo their Grunkle away with their hands.

Stan makes his way to the living room, turning on the TV. His body sinks into the worn-out fabric of the chair, a rerun of Ducktective playing in the background. His eyes begin to feel heavy, the exhaustion of these last few weeks of staying up way past his bedtime finally hitting him. 

The still night fills with a boisterous laugh, a smoke cloud swirling up into the inky sky before dissipating.

“No, wait, it gets even better!” Stan grins, tapping the ashes off his cigarette before bringing it back up to his lips, “Poindexter takes the robot to school... And it falls out of his bag! Next thing you know, an alarm is going off in the middle of 3rd period and remember, the only way to turn the damn thing off is to kiss it correctly.”

Your laughter rings through the receiver, slightly muffled as you’re trying to keep it down since it’s almost 2 AM. “How long did it take for him to finally turn it off?”

“The whole rest of the period and then some. Titling his head into all these weird positions just trying to shut it off.” Stan chuckled.

“Didn’t realize there was a correct way to kiss. ” You hum, a soft yawn escaping your lips.

“I didn’t either, but ya know Ford. He’ll always find a way to turn anything into a problem he can solve.” Stan sighs, taking another drag. His index finger curled around the cord of the payphone.

There’s a lull in the conversation as silence is the only thing that replies to Stan.

He’s about to ask if you want to call it for the evening before your voice cuts through.

“Hey Stan, tell me a story about you.” You ask.

Stan freezes, inhaling some of the smoke in his mouth as a reflex, causing him to gag and hack it up. He beats on his chest, letting out a few more dry coughs before answering, “Ya sure you don’t wanna hear about the time Ford tried to create a self-lighting menorah?”

“No, Stan, I wanna know more about you.” He hears you shuffling on the other end, most likely pulling the blanket around your shoulders closer to your frame. “I mean don’t get me wrong, I love hearing more about Ford’s childhood and his life in New Jersey since he doesn’t talk about it much… but I feel like I know nothing about you and you’re the one I’m talking to.”

Stan stares at the glowing tip of his cigarette, watching the embers slowly disintegrate the paper and tobacco. He doesn’t even know where to start. It’s been so long that he’s talked about his life as Stanley Pines and not some made-up persona he came up with. Hell, even hearing his name during these phone calls is already jarring. 

“Well, what’d you wanna know?” Stan finally speaks. He pushed away those fond memories of his life back in Jersey after years on the run so coming up with anything felt impossible. He needed some kind of guideline.

“Let’s start with something simple.” You reply, “What’s your favorite color?”

“Really?” Stan almost scoffs, “You can’t really want to-”

“Answer the damn question, Pines.” You huff on the other end.

Stan scratches the back of his neck after flicking the cigarette butt onto the ground and stamping it out with his foot, “Don’t have one. Believe it or not, I don’t even like colors, more of a classic black and gray guy.”

“That’s such a cop-out, Stan, and you know it.”

Stan grins as he stares at the phone. He shakes his head in disbelief at your boldness and ability to call him out despite not even meeting him yet. He finally answers, “Alright, alright. If I had to pick one, I guess red. It’s the color of my car, I look the best in red.”

You seem satisfied with that answer as you ask another question, “What’s your favorite food?”

He answers this one much more quickly, “Toffee Peanuts, I would snack on those things every single day. Don’t mention them to Ford… they’re.. uh… touchy subject.” Stan winces, remembering how that bag of toffee peanuts ratted him out.

“Okay…” You say in slight confusion, “Ooh, what’s your favorite genre of movies?”

Stan knows the real answer but god you’re gonna think he’s a total putz, so he makes one up, “Uh… action.”

He could practically hear your eyebrow raising on the other end, “Okay? Name your favorite action movie then.”

His mind is drawing blanks and despite finally giving an answer after several seconds of silence, it’s clear that you weren’t buying it. “Alright, fine. Ma loved watching these romantic period piece movies and I would sit next to her, acting like it was gross but I ate that stuff up.”

Your soft laughter immediately followed his response and he rolled his eyes with a grin across his face, “Hey, you can laugh all you want but don’t knock it until you watch one.”

The pay phone sounded off a reminder that the call was approaching its end based on the amount Stan was able to put into the payphone.

“Alright, we’ll watch one together when we finally meet. It’s a promise.”

Stan suddenly wakes up to someone shaking his shoulder, sitting up right with dried drool crusted on his chin. He rubs his eyes and turns to see Mabel with a frown on her face, “What’s the matter, pumpkin?”

“Y/N left a few hours ago and I’m getting kinda worried, Grunkle Stan…” Mabel explains, “I think her and Great Uncle Ford got into a pretty bad fight, I heard them yelling when I was grabbing scissors from the gift shop,… what if she doesn’t come back? Is she just gonna leave without saying goodbye? I was just working on a scrapbook for her to take home so she could remember the fun times we had the last few weeks.”

Ah crap… Stan thinks, seeing tears start to well in Mabel’s eyes. He knows hearing you and Ford fight probably reminded her of when her parents were fighting before they had finally decided to call it quits over the summer. He quickly wipes them away with his thumb, “She wouldn’t do that, pumpkin. Let your Grunkle Stan handle this.” He pats her reassuringly on the shoulder, wrapping his arms around her as she goes in for a hug before making her way back upstairs. 

Stan searches the Mystery Shack for his brother, but there’s no trace of him. About to give up, he circles to the rear of the Mystery Shack, stumbling upon his brother sitting on the couch in the back who seemed deep in thought. 

“What the hell happened, Ford?”

Ford jumps at the sound of his brother’s voice. His shoulders slump, letting out a sigh as he pats the seat next to him. Stan joins him, eyebrow raised, a silent message to answer his question.

“We finally got to our last fight, I don’t think there was any valid explanation I could truly give for that fight so Y/N got upset. I tried providing comfort, but as you know, it’s not my field of expertise. We went back and forth like Newton’s Third Law, every action had a reaction. It got to a breaking point, and she said she needed to go for a drive to clear her head, so I let her." Ford explained.

“And you didn’t go after her?” Stan questions his brother, his arms crossed.

“Why would I, Stanley? She very clearly showed that she wanted to be nowhere near me.” Ford looks at his brother like he has a second head, “Besides, I’m sure that would have only made things far worse than they already are.”

“No, I don’t buy that for a second. When we had our fights after I got some memories back on the boat, you would chase me down and insist that we needed to talk things out.” Stan protested, shaking his head at his brother’s logic. 

“Well, we were on a boat, Stanley. There’s only so much square footage we had before we’d inevitably run into each other so unless you wanted to jump off the boat and let the sea take you away, we didn’t have much of an option.” Ford pointed out. “Alright, that aside, you should be chasing after her, trying to win her back! You know, like those romance movies ma used to watch!” Stan insisted, trying to push Ford towards you to put distance between him and what his heart was feeling.

He shouldn’t be thinking about you like that. 

Absolutely not.

He couldn’t do that to Ford, absolutely not after everything that happened to them last summer. 

“I’m not trying to win her back, Stanley.” Ford’s words hit Stan like a ton of bricks.

“Wait… what?” Stan says in disbelief, “Then why’re you trying to get her memories back? What is all this for then?”

“Because regardless of whether I have romantic feelings or not, she deserves to get her memories back. Using your own logic, I shouldn’t have helped you this past year.” Ford answers, “Listen, I wasn’t going to tell anyone this until after Y/N had all her memories restored, but we had a talk a couple days ago. We came to an understanding - we’re two very different people now than when we were together, and we’re past the point where we could attempt to start over and spark back what we had before. Also, according to Mabel’s compatibility test that I found, we’re better off as friends.” 

“How’d ya even find that?” Stan questions, eyebrow raised.

“Dipper wanted me to read through his findings in his own journal so I assumed the journal on the kitchen table was his. I probably should have surmised through context clues that it was Mabel’s given that it was pink and chalked with glitter, but the test fell out when I picked up the journal.” Ford explained. 

“Ya can’t use a test out of a teen magazine as actual proof that you aren’t compatible, Ford.” Stan says with a deadpan tone. This causes his brother to chuckle. “There’s surprisingly some pretty accurate data in it, it measures a lot of different facets of relationship that I would have never considered.” 

Stan blinks in surprise, “So that’s it, huh? You just want to be friends with the girl you called the one that got away?” Ford nodded with a sense of finality, “Seeing those memories over the past few weeks allowed me to see our relationship more objectively instead of with the rose tinted glasses I had viewed it through. I’ve realized I tend to get attached to what a person represents versus who they truly are. Y/N doesn’t need to be with someone who only admires her as a concept. If anything, our time apart allowed her to self-actualize into the person I believe she was always meant to be, as did I.” He admits, rubbing the back of his neck.

Stan is at a loss for words, not having much of a rebuttal for Ford’s logic. Despite his twin not being adept at emotions, his response showed a lot of emotional maturity. He quickly changes the subject to the pressing issue at hand, the whole reason why he went searching for Ford, “Well Mabel’s worried sick about her, woke me up asking if she was coming back.” Ford hums in understanding, “Then you should go find her, Stanley.” Stan stares at Ford, “Why me? Why don’t you go or get McGucket to find her?”

“Because you’ve been in her shoes. You were in the exact same place she was when you sacrificed your memories, your entire being last summer. You understand the pain in a way that I can’t. Out of all people, it should be you.” Ford says simply like it's a fact. 

“... I hate when you actually might be right.”

“Stanley, I’m right almost 99.8% of the time. This isn’t a statistical anomaly.” Ford chuckles.

Stan gets up, “Any idea where she might be?”

“Check the Floating Cliffs… when we would fight, if she wasn’t on the rooftop, she’d be there.”

-

Your car is parked near the side of the road of the Floating Cliffs, visible for anyone driving by to spot it. You decided you need to walk up to the edge to clear your head, taking in the view from up high that allowed you to see over Gravity Falls from a distance. The town seemed so unassuming, like any other sleepy town that one would pass by during their trek up the Pacific Northwest. That’s all it was supposed to be when your car broke down almost two weeks ago and yet it contained years of history that were now engraved back into your psyche.

You sit on a rock on the cliff’s edge, the image of younger Ford’s cold stare through the screen imprinted in your head, being in sharp contrast to the sympathetic squeeze on your shoulder you felt from his older counterpart.

“All you’ve done is hold me back from my potential.”

A hand rests on your shoulder unexpectedly, and you shrug it off, whipping around expecting to see Ford, “Ford, I told you I need-”

Stan stands before you instead, his hands now shoved into the pockets of his brown jacket, “Jeez, I wasn’t expecting a warm welcome but man, what’ve Ford said must have been bad for you to react like that.” He takes a seat next to you in the grass. His legs sprawl out across the grass, leaning back on his hands as he takes in the view, “First time up here, I can see why you come up here to clear your head.”

You’re completely caught off guard by Stan’s sudden appearance. After all, he was asleep when you left earlier, how did he even know where to find you? You realize when you’ve been staring for far too long as Stan raises an eyebrow and speaks up, “What, do I got somethin’ on my face?”

“No… just why are you here? You didn’t have to come all the way out here, Stan.” You ask, your head tilted as you bring your knees close to your chest. “Well, there’s a thirteen year old worried that you aren’t coming back so I had to at least try and make sure you didn’t skip town.” Stan explains.

You can feel your heart sink, “Oh god, did Mabel or Dipper hear Ford and I? I would never leave without at least saying goodbye to you and the kids, no matter how angry I am at Ford.” Stan waves his hand in the air, “It’s better you left anyways to cool off… the kids’ parents just went through a divorce so it hit a little too close to home for Mabel, but don’t sweat it. Ya didn’t know.”

Despite Stan’s insistence to not think too deeply about it, you can’t help but shake the feeling. Maybe you weren’t supposed to be here, maybe Ford’s words back then had some truth to them, what was the point of you being here? This family was functioning fine without you around, and then your presence after all these years managed to shake things up when they had just gone through what sounded like hell and back the last year with Bill.

Stan’s voice interrupts your thoughts, “I know you’ve got some wild story cooking in your head, care to share?” You look down to see him staring back at you, patting the seat on the grass next to him. It’s an invitation to let down your walls, to let him in if you’ll allow him. You take the invitation, slipping off the rock and resting on the grass. “Where do I even begin?” You groan, running your hand through your hair as you throw your head back. Stan shrugs, “Well… tell me about you and Ford’s fight. What even happened during your last fight with him?”

Your face contorts, and Stan lets out a chuckle, “Ya gotta talk about it at some point. Why not talk about it with the guy who had to do this almost every other day all last year?” Your guard slightly lowered and you let out a sigh, “Alright…”

“Fidds, do you really have to go?” You ask, watching helplessly while your friend packs his belongings in a frantic manner. His paranoia had grown worse, looking over his shoulder and his eyes flitting across the room searching for something that wasn’t there.

“I quit the project, Y/N.” Fiddleford says with an edge to his voice, “You don’t know the things I saw when I entered that darn portal… ” His hands continue to dig through the drawers to grab whatever he can and stuff it in his suitcase.

“Maybe we could just go down there-” You attempt to smooth over the situation, but your attempt has failed as Fiddleford cuts you off, “Ford’s past the point of listening to us, he can’t see past his own desires! I told him to shut that portal down, that it would cause the end of days!” He realizes the severity of his tone and lets out a sigh, “Listen… I just can’t be here anymore. Every day my mind grows more maddened.” He turns on his heel, ready to walk out the door.

“Fidds, please, I can’t do this alone.” You mutter, tugging on his sleeve. Fiddleford looks down at your hand and takes it into his. “Hey, I’m not disappearing on ya for good but you have a choice too. This isn’t a way of living, Y/N, and you know that. You can walk away… but if you ain’t ready, that’s fine. Ya know where to find me.” He says, already knowing you knew exactly where to look. You nod silently and he squeezes your hand tightly before letting go, disappearing in the dark woods.

The sadness was quickly replaced with anger, your fists clenched and your jaw tight. You make your way down the stairs of the basement, practically stomping down. Your blood boils at the sight of Ford still staring at the stupid portal, looking perplexed. 

“Stanford Fillbrick Pines.”

Ford’s posture suddenly straightens at the sound of your stern tone, and he turns to look at you. He holds his hands up already ready to defend himself, “Listen, Y/N, I know you must be upset by Fiddleford abandoning the project -”

“Upset?” You scoff, “The word upset barely scratches the surface of how I feel right now. Your best friend, our friend, just left because you put this thing” You point towards the portal, “over him.”

Ford goes into defense mode, his hands that were now raised in surrender suddenly drop before crossing his arms over his chest. “Now, let’s not jump to illogical conclusions and go pointing fingers. There’s more to the situation.”

The thread was getting thinner as you stared back at Ford in disbelief. You let out a bitter chuckle, shaking your head, “Alright, since you believe my statement is illogical, let’s review the simple, plain facts of the situation, Stanford.” You begin to close the gap between the two of you, counting off each point with your fingers.

“You have spent more time working on this stupid portal the entire time Fiddleford has been here than actually spending quality time with him. Half of our conversations at this point are about this portal or your research, and I have not heard you ask in months how we’re doing. You are putting all of your time and energy into a portal in which you don’t even know what it does.” You inch closer to him, his eyebrows knitting in frustration with each point. 

“It is supposed to hold the answers to my life’s work, explain the phenomenon of weirdness happening in this town!” Ford exclaims as if you’re idiotic for even stating such a thing.

“You actually believe that, Stanford? You are actually believing what an entity that just comes and goes tells you over what your best friend just witnessed. I’m the illogical one? You’re putting hearsay over actual evidence.” You throw your hands up in frustration. 

“You know how paranoid F has gotten, who knows if what he actually witnessed was real or not?” Ford argues back, “Besides, the mechanical heavy lifting of the project is over, I can do this on my own.”

How could he be so callous and cold? Ford was never overtly in touch with his emotions, but this man was not the man you had fallen in love with. “You can’t be serious… are you just going to brush aside how much he’s done for you? He has a family - a wife and a son - that he sacrificed time away from to help you, and yet you treat him like a tool.” 

“He made that choice! If he wanted to, he could’ve stayed in Palo Alto!” Ford replies dismissively.

“And what about me, Ford?” You yell. The sound echoes through the stone walls of the basement, “I have needs, and dreams, and visions of my own! Am I supposed to sit on the wayside for you to accomplish yours before I even get to mine?”

There’s a pause before Ford stares back at you coldly, “You had a choice too, Y/N. I would have hoped my partner would have understood the commitment this project was, and supported me in achieving my life’s work. Instead, you try to pull me away from my work, make me lose focus. Bill was right.. all you’ve done is hold me back from my potential.”

The thread snaps. 

Any semblance of hope of changing Ford’s mind disintegrates in that moment.

“Then what’s the point of me being here, Ford? Let me just get out of your way then.” You say, turning on your heel. You began to walk away before six fingers suddenly wrapped around your wrist.

“Let go, Ford.” You say, trying to keep your voice steady. You had spent too much time crying over this man, you weren’t going to let him see you break. Not anymore.

“Y/N, please be rational and just let me finish this project… then we have the rest of our lives ahead of us.” He tries to appeal to you, but you’ve shut down already.

“If you continue to believe this is rational, Ford, I can’t help you anymore. I can’t keep putting my life on hold for you. I can’t just sit on a shelf, just waiting for you to interact with me. I just… can’t.” You shake your head before tearing your wrist from his grip and walking away.

“Fine, I don’t need anyone! I don’t need Fiddleford, and I don’t need you!” Ford yells out as you continue to walk away. 

“And.. that was the last thing he said to me before I left.” You wrap up your story just as the sun begins its descent in the horizon.

You expected some words of sympathy or some type of wise observation to come out of Stan’s mouth.

“God, come on, Ford, at least be original. You know he stole that whole ‘I don’t need anyone’ line from me?” Stan scoffs.

You’re so caught off-guard by his response that you can’t help but let out a laugh, “So that was your huge takeaway from our fight?”

“Sorry, sorry… just had to get it off my chest.” He admits with a grin,“Still can’t believe you haven’t decked him after all that, I lost count how many times I tried to take a swing at Ford on the boat.”

“Ya know, violence isn’t always the answer to every problem, Stan?” You shake your head, grinning as he holds up his fists. “Hey, these things have a pretty good track record of getting me out of some sticky situations.” 

“So what you’re saying is that punching Ford in the face would fix everything?”

“Well, it’d at least be a great outlet for all the pent up rage you probably have stored up inside you.”

Stan had to admit he wasn’t much better than Ford in the emotional intelligence category. Sure, the kids helped him let his guard down over the past year, but he was still a work in progress. He didn’t expect himself to be able to give you some life-altering advice when he came out here. He just wanted to make sure you weren’t stuck in your head in your thoughts, blaming yourself… like he was when he was kicked out. 

So to see a smile across your face after everything that happened today was a win in his books.

“Hey Stan… do you think I did Ford hold back all those years ago?” You ask, your fingers finding the sunstone that hung on your neck and twirling it around. Stan had started to pick up that you did that whenever your head was starting to spiral again. He ends up scooting closer to you, “Ya know, I had the same thought as you before about holding Ford back. After all, that’s what I was told when I kicked out of the house - that if it weren’t for me, Ford would’ve gotten into the school of his dreams and my family could’ve gotten out of Glass Shard Beach. ”

Stan pauses and sees you staring at him intently, soaking in his words. He continues onward, “But then I realized that Ford was going to make it happen no matter what. Sure he had to work twice as hard, but he’s tenacious. Like I said, we share one thing in common - we’re both stubborn - when we want something, we fight tooth and nail for it. The thing with Ford is that he thinks with his head over his heart over anything. How his actions and words impact other people along the way doesn’t even cross his mind if it gets him to his goal.”

“So he’s like the world’s most logical bulldozer?” You offer which earns you an earnest laugh from Stan, “Somethin’ like that. The guy has as much tact as a bull in a china shop - no matter how careful he tries to be, he’ll somehow knock something over.”

“So to answer your question, no, I don’t think ya held him back at all. If anything, I don’t think you’re giving yourself as much credit as you should for holding not only him but also McGucket together for so long.” Stan says, reaching over to squeeze your knee in reassurance. Just as he’s about to pull away, you place a hand over Stan’s hand, keeping it there.

“I really don’t know how you did it, Stan. I don’t know how you were able to forgive him after everything.” You comment, still amazed by the journey he’s endured this past year. 

“Well like I said, giving him a good punch once in a while really lets some steam off.” Stan grins at your playful shove at his comment, “Alright, alright, in all seriousness, there was a part of me that didn’t want to forgive him, but when I thought I lost him for good, none of that mattered. I just wanted my brother back. Having to learn quantum physics and complex math really makes ya forget any grudge you may have been holding onto.”

“In return, Ford made it up to me every single day this past year, helping me get my memories back. Underneath all that stubbornness and logic is a guy that would move mountains for the people he cares about. I just hope you can let him in to show that to you.” Stan finally looks back at you. You give his hand that still rests atop of your knee a squeeze and give him a nod before leaning over to rest your head on his shoulder.

His spine stiffens at the sudden feeling, and yet you don’t pull away, the two of you watching the sunset in silence.

The levity and reassurance Stan brought with his responses was just what you needed.

You’re really glad he came to find you.

“Thanks Stan for coming to find me.”

“Don’t think I had much of a choice, not when ya got a 13-year-old girl coming to you in tears.” Stan admits with a shrug.

“She’s got you in the palm of her hand, doesn’t she, you softie?”

“Hey, don’t go telling people that, I’ve got a reputation in this town to uphold.”

-

Stan pulls up to the Mystery Shack, seeing Dipper and Mabel sitting on the steps with Ford standing on the porch behind them. Mabel has Dipper’s hand in a death grip, her eyes puffy from crying, though her expression is lighter as the two flip through last summer’s scrapbook that’s splayed across both of their laps. The two get up, Mabel deflating when she doesn’t see you in the passenger seat.

After parking the car, Stan gets out, and the kids rush over to him. “Grunkle Stan, is she… gone?” Mabel mutters, her voice cracking slightly. He nods his head in the direction of the woods, and the two look up to see you trailing behind Stan in your car. You immediately park it, not even bothering to pull up all the way, and get out of your car. Mabel runs up to you, and you immediately embrace her tightly.

“I’m so sorry that I worried you, Mabel. I promise you I would never leave without saying goodbye.” You look down at the pre-teen, wiping away the stray tears that had started to form. “Good, because if you did, you would’ve missed out on the super cool party I’ve been planning for you and I also made you a scrapbook.” Mabel said through the sniffles, and you let out a laugh, patting her head soothingly. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world, kiddo.”

You beckon Dipper to join you and Mabel, and with a nudge from Stan, he joins the group hug, smiling when you mess up his hair teasingly. Stan grins at the sight, hearing the crunch of Ford’s boots against the grass as he remarks, “How’d you get her to stop crying?”

“Dipper and a pint of ice cream in the freezer did most of the heavy lifting.” Ford hummed, “I simply supplied the tissues and my company. Apparently a six fingered hug is also an extra finger more comforting.” The twins both let out a laugh that sounds identical, and Ford places a hand on Stan’s shoulder, “Thank you, Stanley. I knew you would know just what to say.” The two watch the younger Pines twins chat with you for a bit before Mabel rushes Dipper back into the shack to continue planning your going-away party.

You walk back over to Stan and Ford, giving Stan a glance, “Mind if I chat with Ford for a bit, Stan? I promise I won’t kill him.” Stan let out a laugh, patting Ford on the back when he gulps, “Don’t bite his head off, sweetheart. I’ll be inside. Gonna see what the kids might be scheming up… I swear they act like we got money growing on trees sometimes.”

As soon as Stan disappears behind the front door, the apologies begin tumbling out of Ford’s mouth, “Listen, Y/N, I am deeply sorry for the pain that I have caused and how careless I was with my words in the past. I should not have tried to rebuttal what you were feeling earl-”

He’s suddenly met by your embrace. He is in shock, his hands limp at his sides. Why are you hugging him instead of chewing him out? Is he supposed to hug you back? Before he can properly determine how to react, you pull back to give him a swift yet playful punch on the shoulder.

“Ow!” Ford recoils, reaching to grab his shoulder before looking down at you incredulously. “What was that for?” You smile, “Wow, that did actually help a lot.” Ford’s eyes narrow before groaning, “Oh god, did Stanley give you that suggestion? I swear, he’s so juvenile.”

“Hey, would you rather get a friendly punch to the shoulder or a verbal lashing?” You offer to which Ford shakes his head in disbelief, “I mean neither but I guess I’ll take the punch instead.” He pauses before looking down at you, placing his hands on your shoulders, “You’re not mad though?”

“I think a part of me still is… What you did back then was really shitty, Ford.” You sigh which causes him to deflate a little. You quickly follow up your statement, “But I’m choosing to not let my anger towards the past cloud how much you have helped me these past two weeks with getting my memories back. I forgive you for what you did in the past… I can tell you’ve done a lot of growing since then.”

Ford’s expression lightens up and he nods in agreement, “Thank you for forgiving me… and you’ve grown as well. While I deeply regret everything that happened back then, I guess it was fate that led us to where we needed to be.”

You blink up at Ford owlishly, “I cannot believe Stanford Pines just said that fate exists. Fate, the concept that you used to say was a cop-out for people to not take agency of their lives.”

“Well you said it yourself, I’ve done a lot of growing. My thinking is a bit more flexible, well.. As flexible as it can be.” 

Stan watches from the attic window as you two laugh, letting out a sigh of relief. He had to admit despite his casual attitude, there was a part of him that was genuinely concerned about leaving the two of you alone - either the two of you would fight with words or you would take Stan’s advice a bit too literally and give Ford a swift uppercut to the jaw.

His shoulders relax. Finally, the dust settled. You and Ford were on the path to forgiveness, and you could spend the rest of your days in Gravity Falls care-free. 

“Grunkle Stan, do you want a message for Y/N?” Mabel asks, handing him the scrapbook.

Stan takes the scrapbook, looking down at Mabel with skepticism, “I dunno, pumpkin. I’m not the best at these kinda things.”

“It doesn’t have to be super fancy, Grunkle Stan. It could be something like your favorite memory with Y/N this summer or something!” Mabel explains. 

Favorite memory, huh? Stan thinks, tapping the pen to his lips.

It suddenly hits Stan like a freight train.

You were still missing your memories of him, and he only had five days to tell you.

[viceroywrites]

something to pass the time

henchman 21 x gn!reader - smut - 18+, minors dni.

(story takes place around s6-s7)s

cw: smut, masturbation, voyeurism, scent kink.

a!n: guys this thing has been sitting in my drafts for way too long but hope all my gary freaks enjoy this one! s/o to the gary lovers discord server as always for fueling the gary has a scent kink headcanon.

“Oh, you will not believe this next part!” Gary’s voice almost cracks in excitement. His footsteps fall behind yours, padding against the hardwood floors of your apartment as you make your way to the kitchen to make coffee.

“I’m waiting.” You chuckle, extending your hand out to which Gary places a mug in before continuing his story.

“See, back when I was living on the Venture Compound, I told Sergeant Hatred… does he even go by that anymore… Anyways, I told him that the Monarch only uses fire and lasers at night.” Gary explains, “So we decide to switch things up, and pull up in the new and improved Cocoon in broad daylight. Boom, we shoot a laser in the shape of the Monarch’s logo right through the roof of their penthouse suite!”

Your lips curl in amusement, watching Gary animatedly recount his most recent arch with the Monarch to you, as you get ready for your day at work. Originally, when Gary had finally told you about his career as a henchman on your fourth date, it took you a couple of days to digest all the information he was throwing your way. 

Now, it felt normal, a cast of characters you regularly heard about and now being on a first name basis with his bosses who were more like friends… well, you were on a first name basis with just Sheila. Malcolm preferred to be called the Monarch. 

“We even got Dr. Venture in the cross hairs, and it took Sgt. Hatred like 30 minutes to find a fire extinguisher in that whole building so Doc just ended up jumping in the pool. A total win in the Monarch’s books.” Gary shares, using his hands to emphasize his points. 

You’re about to make a comment but your gaze looks beyond Gary’s broad shoulder showing the bright red numbers on your oven.

7:50 AM.

“Shit, sorry Gare, I gotta get going or else I’m gonna be late for work.” You say, smiling sadly when he slightly deflates at your departure. You pat his chubby cheek softly, leaning in to kiss away the pout that had developed on his slightly chapped lips. 

“Alright… I won’t keep you. Are you gonna be home for supper?” Gary asks, opening the fridge and reaching in to place your lunch in your hands.

“What’s the difference between supper and dinner?” You ask, eyebrows raised in curiosity.

Gary lets out a deep exhale, trying to hide his exasperation as he pinches the bridge of his nose, “Jeez, does no one know the difference?” He mutters under his breath before explaining,  “Supper is a meal eaten between 4 to 6. Anything after 6 is dinner.”

“Then yes, I will be home in time for supper, Mr. Proper Etiquette. Let’s say 5.” You chuckle, turning your heel to head out the door.

After hearing the door shut, Gary stands in the middle of your kitchen, letting out a sigh.

‘What am I gonna do today? I binge watched like all the shows I wanted to and the Monarch would kill me if I watched House of the Dragon without him…’ Gary thinks to himself, making his way to the couch. 

He had to admit that he’s been feeling quite restless the last two days now.

Usually, he would be off gallivanting around with the Monarch while you were at work, either on an arch or just messing around in the Monarch Cave. Somehow, Sheila had managed to coax and persuade Malcolm to do the unthinkable - take a brief break from his never-ending quest to torture Dr. Venture to go on a vacation with her to Greece.

Gary is 99% convinced that the only reason that the Monarch went was to check out some Greek island that apparently Rusty frequented every year and find some way to ruin the experience for him the next time he visited. 

Not wanting to stay in the empty New Jersey home all by himself, Gary decided to stay at your place for the next week. Despite the two of you dating for more than a year now, it was mind-boggling to him that he even landed you. He was fully convinced that you would run for the hills when he finally couldn’t evade the “What do you do for a living?” question four dates in a row with some vague answer.

While getting to experience a relaxed routine with you for just a few days has been an absolute god send for his sleep and mental well being, Gary couldn’t help but always ask how he could make himself useful to you. Even on his supposed time off, Gary was hard-wired with henchman programming to serve. This past week, he had already cooked supper for the two of you every night, cleaned up around the apartment, and ran errands that he knew you wouldn’t have the time for after work.

He could hear your voice admonishing him in his head, telling him to take it easy and enjoy his time off as you try to snatch away whatever he was trying to do for you. His feet take him to the couch, propping his Star Wars sock-clad feet up on your coffee table. After spending almost two hours scrolling through his feed aimlessly, Gary shuts his phone, wandering over to your bedroom to find some sort of project to keep his hands busy. Maybe he can alphabetize your record collection or dust your figurines.

He opens the door, scanning the room before landing on the pile of clothing peeking through your desk chair. “Ah jeez, I thought I already did their laundry for the week…” Gary mutters, “Guess that’ll keep me pre-occupied for a bit. Hopefully I don’t have to do two separate loads.” He pulls the chair back to reveal a sizeable lump of laundry that had accumulated. Too lazy to grab your laundry basket, he bends over to scoop up the pile of clothing into his large arms and carries it easily to your washer.

Pulling out his phone, Gary sets a timer for how long the load will take, grinning as he sees a photo Sheila had sent him of her and the Monarch who had his eyes covered by his shades, was clearly sunburnt, and help up a hand to try to block the camera with a grimace. He starts typing out a reply before his sock glides against an article of clothing he had dropped on the floor and slips, falling to the ground. 

“Owww… what did I even slip on, dude?” He rubs his bottom, glaring down at the culprit of his fall before his eyes widen.

It’s your underwear. Like his favorite pair on you.

It’s not like he’s a touch-starved virgin like he was before, but he was so attracted to you that even just seeing your underwear not even on your body had him riled up. His mouth practically watered at the thought of what it smelled like, what you smelled like. It wouldn’t be the first time he got off to your scent, he tells himself. After all, he practically humped the bed, his cock grinding against the mattress as he buried his head into the pillow that you had laid on only a few hours ago after sleeping at his place.

The guilt eats him up, but he persists, fisting the fabric in his hands and making his way straight to your room. He shuts the door behind him, his hand hurriedly pushing down the fabric of his cargo shorts along with his boxers. His cock is already erect, thick and the tip leaking pre-cum, as he flops onto the bed. 

God, what would you think if you walked in on him now? Would you stare at him in disgust, confused on how your sweet and caring boyfriend could be so depraved? Would you crawl onto the bed, your eyes staring into his soul, your tongue dipping down to give that aching tip a lick? Would you grip him at the base, torturing him, edging him until he’s a babbling mess and ends up coming all over your palm as you shove your underwear into his nose?

His hand fisting your underwear mimics his thoughts, inhaling your scent deeply. He lets out a guttural groan, his hips bucking up into his hand that begins to stroke up and down. He envisions your tongue gliding from the base of his shaft, teasing each vein along the way, before wrapping those soft lips - God, he loves your lips - around his aching tip. His fingers quicken their pace, chasing the release desperately.

He takes another big whiff of your scent, chasing the sensory high it gives him. His hand stays still - at this point, he’s bucking his hips as if he’s fucking you. He envisions you on top of him, his hands gripping your hips tightly. Your face contorted in pleasure, sweat dripping down your body. The sound of your skin slapping against his, your hands running over his chest down to his tattoo that covers his round stomach. You lean over, your chest against his, gripping the back of his head to pull him into a kiss.

He lets out a grunt, releasing rope after rope of his seed all over his hand. It practically overflows - was he this pent-up? - dripping down his palm and splattering onto his thighs. His cheeks are flushed mostly from embarrassment at how quickly he came. A kiss. Really? The thought of a kiss is what did it for you? He thinks to himself, almost wanting to slap himself in the forehead. 

Thud.

Gary feels like his soul escaped his body at the sound of the loud sound, his head slowly turning to see what fell and freezes seeing you on the floor, rubbing your head. What the hell? What are you doing here? His throat is dry, as you stare back at him like a deer in headlights. 

“I-I can explain..” Gary stutters, reaching up to remove your underwear off his face and throw it to the side.

“No need to explain, I figured something like this was bound to happen.” You mutter, your eyes suddenly fixating on a spot on the floor.

“How?!”

“Gary, I’ve seen you do this before… Remember that time I slept over at your place when we first started dating? I forgot my wallet and well.. you were pretty occupied.”

“You knew I had a scent kink this entire time and didn’t say anything!”

Your cheeks flushed, “Well then I’d…”

Gary blinks, sitting up. He’s grateful you keep a box of tissues near your bed, deciding to clean up as he waits for your response. His eyebrow raises, “You?”

“I’d have to admit that I watched… and that I like watching.”

He pauses before grinning, “Oh my god, you have a voyeurism kink?! Dude, that’s… hot.”

“I know, it’s gross. I felt so bad that I invaded your privacy like that, and-” You begin apologizing before pausing, “Wait, did you say hot?”

“Totally, super hot.” Gary responded with a reassuring tone, patting the seat next to him.

“So you don’t think I’m a pervert?” You take a seat, resting your head on his shoulder. 

Gary rolls his eyes, pressing a kiss on your forehead “Dude, I literally just got off on sniffing your panties. I think it’s safe to say we’re both perverts. So… uh.. why are you home so early? Also how long were you standing there for?” He asks with an abashed grin, rubbing the back of his neck.

“There was a power outage so they let us go home for the day… and probably like a minute, you were thrusting up into your hand.” You admit, your face bright red. 

“Are you turned on?”

“Yeah…” You trail off, seeing the sudden hunger in Gary’s eyes. You’re suddenly pinned down onto the bed, his large hands tugging on your pants impatiently. 

“Well, let me give you a hand.” He says with a cheesy grin.

“Hey… that was supposed to be my line.” 

“Too late, you had your chance to do the whole porn schtick. Now just sit back and let me serve you like a true henchman would…”

Safe to say, Gary found something to preoccupy his attention for the rest of the day. 

[ford-pines-lover]

A Thousand Wishes

Why must I be tortured like this?

Last one I wrote in 2019! This one is very dark. If I remember correctly that is. I remember I was trying to write it during my middle school study hall and I got worried that I would get flagged online so I wrote it all in a notebook and transcribed it onto google docs LMAO and yes I kept the "y/n guide" LOL I think its so so so funny

Tags: reverse falls au, will cipher, finally an x reader, I actually think its a will cipher x reader?, who knows I was so weird.

Guide to the second pov books. (present me here, NOT 2nd pov)

(Y/n)= your name

(H/l)= hair length.

(H/c)= hair color

(E/c)= eye color

(F/n)= Full name

Btw this is my first time writing a (y/n) fanfic. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing this! Now here is the magnificent story…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Will Cipher's Pov

I was on the cold hard floor… hurt… hungry… Master said if I do anything else wrong that week, that would be my last straw. I'd get beaten.. scars… bruises… sores… I already have so many of those. I don't think I can take anymore cuts and scars.

I wanted to run… hide.. get away from here, but where would I go? Master w-would be so upset…

I am a Dream Demon… I might have some powers, but that doesn't mean I can use them freely. I can't teleport outside of the Gleeful mansion. I can't summon food or water. Those luxuries were earned. I really can't do much with my magic anyways. 

It's only 10pm. I'm supposed to be sleeping. If Master comes he'll- he'll hurt me! I'm already so hurt.. I tried to close my eyes knowing I'll have nightmares for the fifth year in a row. 

I've lived with the Gleeful family for five years now. I look like an eighteen year old teen but really I'm older that the universe. 

I suddenly feel my eyes slowly closing…

~~~~~~~~~~

Will's Dream

~~~~~~~~~~

"This is the last time Will!" Dipper got out two pills and a glass of water. "Take these now." Master Dipper threw the pills and water at me. I was shaking so much… I don't want to die.. not today.. I regretfully take the pills. "Now go down into your room. I'll be down in fifteen minutes." 

"O-okay Master…" I trudge down into the cold basement where my room was hidden. Suddenly my arms and legs start to feel funny. I get all the way down the stairs before the world turns black…

I wake up. I'm tied up on a chair. Duct tape over my mouth. I start to see the silhouette of a boy.. it became clearer. It was Dipper… slowly coming with a knife.. It was that I realized that I can't move, nor can I move my arms or legs! At this point I was bawling, pleading for mercy. 

Dipper was so close to me now. I could see his knife touch my skin.. I could see it ripping, tearing my skin apart. Blood was dripping, gushing out of the wound Dipper created. I suddenly feel light headed again… Everything went dark… 

~~~~~~~~~~~

End of Dream

~~~~~~~~~~~

I wake up suddenly realizing that the dream wasn't real. I start to cry knowing that would happen someday. It's 6am. I'm supposed to be up by now doing chores. I lay back down exhausted from my nightmare. 

'Why don't I just give up?' I think to myself. 

I suddenly hear my door open. I look up to see a young teen standing there. She had (h/l) (h/c) hair and brilliant (e/c) eyes. Only if I would've known what was going to happen next…

Chapter one

y/n pov

12 hours. 12 long hours. Impatient hours of driving. After highschool I decided to move to a small town called Reverse Falls, Oregon. May cousins live there after all. 

I rented a small cabin with two bedrooms. One for me and one for a guest. I know I won't have many guests since I'm not very social.

I park in the driveway of my cabin. I unpacked everything that was in the car, and I brought it in. The moving van should be here any minute now with my appliances and furniture.

I get inside as I see the moving van as it pulled up. It was early morning so I decided to go and visit my cousins.

My cousins are supposedly *famous* in this town. They on the show called the "Tent of Telepathy". Beforehand I bought a ticket for myself for the show. I was honestly curious of what my cousins what do for their show.

Anyways, I made it to their mansion owned by Master Stanley and Stanford. It wasn't them who opened the door though. It was a blue boy. He was a couple inches taller than me with blue eyes. 

"H-hello? What a-are you h-here for?" The blue boy asked.

"Oh! Hello! I am (f/n). The cousin of Dipper and Mabel Gleeful..?" 

"T-they d-didn't tell m-me y-you w-were c-coming." He stuttered. Hm. Social anxiety? I'm not sure… "Master D-Dipper?"

"Yes?" I hear an annoyed teenage boy's voice from around the corner. He walked slowly. Approaching the door with his nose turned upward. I know that was Dipper. Always so stuck up. "Oh! (Y/n)! You didn't tell me you were coming." 

"Oh, yeah sorry 'bout that. I kinda wanted it to be a surprise." I half smiled. I hope I wasn't a bother.

"Please come in, come in." He ushered me inside. 

I walk into the most elegant house I've ever seen. 

There were light blue tapestries, a bunch of portraits of Dipper and Mabel, and red carpeting.

“Wow, Dipper your house… it's so…-" I cut myself off. I haven't been in a place like this before.

I saw Dipper smirk. I absent-mindedly start to walk, staring at the beautiful work of art.

"Ow!" I groan. I accidentally bumped into… blue boy?!?

"M-miss! A-are you o-okay?" The blueberry seemed so concerned even though it was me who bumped into him.

"Ye-yeah.. I'm fine… I never asked… but what's your name?"

"W-will Cipher." He answered. Will… that sounded familiar…

"WILLIAM CIPHER GET OVER HERE!" I hear Dipper yell. Will quickly went over to him. Of course, I follow. "What did I tell you about interfering with guests?!"

"I uh-" I cut Will off.

"Dipper. It was my fault. Even if it was his fault, it would've been an accident." I say trying to calm the angry Dipstick down.

"Will. Just come with me." Dipper tells to go. After they left, I tried to follow their paths so I could eavesdrop. I know it's wrong, but I-I'm kinda concerned for Will. 

"I just don't… -derstand… why… n't you get… it… through your head?!" I heard Dipper yell to Will. I'm getting closer.

"I-I'm s-sorry m-master!" I heard Will cower… if I turned the corner I'd be faced with them.

"Next time Will. NEXT TIME you do anything wrong… Last straw for you. See those scars? Yeah. Well, there will be more if you don't listen. You got that?" Dipper screamed.

"Ye-yes…" I heard Will crying.

"Good. I'll let you off today because of (Y/N) being here. I don't want her to witness this." He doesn't want me to witness what? 

I decided to ask if I could spend the night here.

Pretending to walk off, I see Dipper.

"Hey! Dipper! You think I could crash here for the night?" I ask fake yawning.

"Of course. You're welcome you right here." He led me across the hall which I can see that my room was placed directly across from Will Cipher's room. I'm assuming that it was Will's room. Will went inside of that room and shut the door… so… "Don't worry about our servant. He was slacking off today."

"Okay?" I check my phone. 9:55 pm. Hm. I better get settled. I still can't believe that I've spent my whole day here.

Dipper left. I wanted to help Will as much as possible. I know! I'll sneak him out. I know just the way to do it too… I set my alarm for 6 a.m. and drift off into a deep slumber.

~~~~~~~~~~~

(Y/N)'s dream

~~~~~~~~~~~

"Help m-me.." I hear a weak voice in the distance. I could see blood, cuts and scars on the body.

"Oh my God. What the hell happened?" I asked them. I could tell it was Will.

"I-I m-made a m-mistake.. M-Master made me take these pills that numbed my whole body. I fainted then-then woke u-up h-here. D-Dipper had a K-knife… i-" I put my finger to his chapped lips.

"It'll be okay. I-" I hesitated. Did I want to tell him about me eavesdropping? " I-uh… heard Dipper yell at you."

"Y-yeah.. u-usually it's w-worse." He winced in pain.

"What do you mean 'worse'?"

He looked traumatized.

"Well… u-usually h-he hits m-me, w-whips me, or just to-tortures me.." There were tears streaming down his face. I felt so bad.

We were just staring. He was looking into my (e/c) eyes. I was looking into his ice blue eyes when everything started to fade.

"Don't worry. I'll get you out of this mess." I told him.

~~~~~~~~~~~

End of Dream

~~~~~~~~~~~

I wake up with a gasp.

"I'll save you Will. I'll save you."

Chapter two

I was getting dressed and ready as fast as possible. 

I open Will's bedroom door to find he is sobbing.

"W-What are y-you doing i-in h-here?" He questioned.

"I need to get you out of here. Look at you… you have so many scars and cuts… I can't let you live like this. Please Will. Come with me."

"O-okay.." He got up. "Wait.. w-what about m-master? He would be so mad!"

"Don't worry about him. I will contact the police-" Will cut me off. 

"Th-the p-police?!" He whisper yelled.

"Again, Will, don't worry. I have footage of Dipper mentally abusing you on my phone." Yeah, I kinda filmed it… 

"What?! Why?!" Will was so confused.

"To show the police, duh."

He trembled when I said "police".

"Come on Will. Let's get you to my place." I said sincerely.

[viceroywrites]

to anyone who's asked to be added to the taglist for deja vu: i unfortunately hit max capacity on tagging on the parts themselves but if you are still interested, i can make a separate reblog/update tag list if that helps!

[viceroywrites]

deja vu masterlist

planning out your road trip through the pacific northwest, you find yourself inexplicably drawn to the town of gravity falls.

little did you know that this town held more memories than you could have possibly imagined.

too bad you didn't remember any of them.

stan x fem!reader/ford x fem!reader

choose your own ending - angst with happy ending & fluff

new chapters may be sporadic as i do work full-time and write when i can! i'll try to keep an every two weeks-three weeks schedule :)

part one

part two

part three

part four

stan route

part five

part six

part seven

part eight

part nine

part ten

epilogue

ford route

part five

part six

part seven

part eight

part nine

part ten

epilogue

accompanying playlists for each route:

stan route playlist

ford route playlist

[viceroywrites]

update: part eight for ford is finally up!

thanks to everyone who has read this series so far and for your patience!

[viceroywrites]

deja vu - part eight (ford route)

planning out your road trip through the pacific northwest, you find yourself inexplicably drawn to the town of gravity falls.

little did you know that this town held more memories than you could have possibly imagined.

too bad you didn't remember any of them.

stan x fem!reader / ford x fem!reader

choose your own adventure / contains fluff and angst (w/ happy ending)

part seven | part nine

interested in the stan route? click here for masterlist.

a!n: i owe everyone the biggest apology for how long this chapter took me but it's finally here! thank you to everyone who waited so patiently for this chapter and is still reading this series. we've gotten most of the lore/memory heavy chapters done so hoping these next few chapters left will be easier to write! heads up for all my canon compliance peeps, there are parts of this chapter that veer off canon elements from book of bill but they're not too extreme. hope you all enjoy this chapter!

songs to listen to for this chapter from ford playlist:

headlock by imogen heap

ghosting by mother mother

doomsday

chemistry by gigi perez

sweet dreams by eurthymics

the funeral by band of horses

tag list: @awitchersbard | @theilluminatidragonqueen | @jazzypop-op | @jonndoe | @chaimshelii | @starship606 | @swimmingrascalbatdragon | @stanfordsbaby | @gxstiess | @skrunkle11 | @valinbean | @funkyenby | @therealgoofygoober69 | @theblueraven | @adrian920155 | @im-kinda-bored | @miarabanana | @leo4242564 | @soupieoopieisloopie | @marvelous-maniac | @opossumclown | @m4x-3dw | @nothingbutcloud | @reivelmin | @grimometry | @walmartjim | @reiofsuns2001 | @bunni-teeth81 | @satorisgirl | @pen900 | @creat0r-cat | @lackingoriginalthoughts | @fries11 | @sunniskyies | @policedeer | @sadslasher13 | @kittenlover614 | @margibees | @lunnybunny12 | @the-hufflebird-girl | @sawendel l | @shamrockfish | @atseoks | @luckybatbones | @ryuyukawa | @mekkori | @bigbodycity | @kawaii1369 | @333brat333 | @styxxcrossing

The dim porchlight flickers, illuminating Ford’s path as he paces back and forth with antsy. The porch underneath his boots creaks, the wood starting to wear down after years of being stepped all over as well as being pretty much torn apart when it served as a mech-robot during Weirdmageddon.

The sound of tires rolling over the gravel and grass covered path that led up to the Mystery Shack finally halted Ford’s movements. He looks up, seeing a beat-up pick up truck approaching. Once it stops, Fiddleford hops out of the passenger seat, waving at his son. “I’ll come pick ya up in the mornin’, dad. I’m goin’ back to bed.” Tate grumbles. 

“You woke up your son to bring you here?” Ford questions Fiddleford as he walks up to the porch, giving Tate a nod before watching him drive off. Fiddleford looked his old friend dead in the eyes, “If I drove down that hill, you woulda seen a bunch of roadkill the next morning. I’d like to spare the little critters.” 

“Point taken, follow me.” Ford says, opening the creaky screen door into the Mystery Shack. Fiddleford walks through, following Ford down into the basement, his heartbeat racing as they descend down the stairs. He could feel the tension radiating from Ford, his posture stiff and jaw clenched, making the cleft on his chin more prominent. Despite mending their friendship and putting the past behind them last summer, Fiddleford had to admit there was a part of him that still felt antsy when Ford seemed upset. 

“Listen, S, I know you’re probably awfully mad at me right now-” Fiddleford decides to try and rip the bandaid off before Ford can say anything, but he’s quickly cut off. “F, I’m not mad at you. I’m just perplexed and honestly concerned.” Ford explains, glancing at the monitor, “Tell me, and be completely honest with me, Fiddleford. How many times did you wipe her memory?”

Fiddleford scratched his head, some of his older memories still foggy after years of memory gun usage. “Well, I reckon, it was maybe two times max. There was that one time… oh no, I erased my own memory that time, she was fine with keeping that one.” Ford let out a sigh, realizing that most likely was the best answer he could have heard from his friend. He walks over to the monitor, turning it on, “I have to show you what I witnessed… I didn’t realize… Bill was tormenting the two of you even after you both left.”

Ford winces, having to rewatch now for the third time Bill possessing his body and wrapping his own hands around your throat. The knot in his stomach grew tighter, averting his gaze to address Fiddleford who squirms at the sight, “You couldn’t have built a fast-forward function, Fiddleford?” Fiddleford simply shrugs, “I built this back in the 80s, Stanford. Plus I reckon I wasn’t planning on anyone actually watching their memories back considerin’ I was trying to erase every reminder of those anomalies.”

Ford picks up on how Fiddleford’s left leg thumps against the ground, and his thumbs twiddle together. A nervous tic his best friend had even before coming to Gravity Falls. He quickly swipes a Rubik’s cube off his desk, tossing it over to Fiddleford to fidget with, before pulling up a chair for him to sit down in, “Might as well get comfortable, old friend. We’re going to be here for a moment.”

Since the run-in with Bill, you had been avoiding Ford like the plague.

It had not gone unnoticed. 

Any attempts to initiate any form of affection shot down, and Ford was starting to give up.

“Y/N, have I done something? If so, I cannot fix it unless you tell me what’s plaguing your mind.” Ford sighs, holding your cheeks in his palms, his thumb caressing your temple. You longed to lean into his touch, but feeling those fingertips inch towards the chin had you pulling back. “I’m alright, Ford… just a bit exhausted from today. I think I’m going to call it for the evening.”

“Thought you were going to help F and I do some welding tonight? The more hands we have working on the portal, the better.” Ford questions, head tilting in skepticism. You brush his hand away, and give him a tight-lipped smile, “I’ll have to take a rain check on that, maybe next week?” Ford puts his hands up in defeat, “Alright then, good night, my dear.” 

Your shoulder bumps against Fiddleford, shooting him an apologetic smile before silently making your way up the stairs. Fiddleford glances back at you in confusion, pulling up his welding mask to quirk an eyebrow up at Ford. 

“Ya’ll in another lovers’ quarrel? What’d you do this time?” Fiddleford asked. Ford promptly flicks his friend’s welding mask down over his face, placing a welder in his hand, “Less talk, more welding, F.”

Slipping into bed, sleep does not come as quickly as you had hoped, spending most of the evening tossing and turning beneath the sheets. Seeing nothing staring back at you but the neatly made side of the bed stings, a reminder of the gap that was starting to grow between you and Ford.

You could make the case that it was self-inflicted, but a hand on a throat by an interdimensional entity possessing your lover’s body was quite persuasive.

Growing restless, you decide to get some respite by swinging by the kitchen to grab a glass of water and stargazing on the roof. Rubbing your eyes, you glance at the clock at your bedside table.

1:00 AM.

You wonder if the pair were still in the basement, toiling away at the portal. There was some guilt about leaving Fiddleford hanging, knowing he had been restless himself about working on this portal and dealing with the anomalies of Gravity Falls. 

As you rounded the corner and made your way to the kitchen, you passed by the living room. A sense of relief flooded you to see Fiddleford sleeping peacefully, but it was quickly replaced with sadness at what was in his hands. 

The Memory Gun.

Fiddleford had used it every so often after a harrowing anomaly hunt, seeing disturbing creatures and not knowing how to compartmentalize it.

You gingerly maneuver Fiddleford’s fingers to loosen the grip on the device before taking it from his palms and placing it behind the chair. 

“Man, I thought the hillbilly would never fall asleep, gemstone. Whatever that device was, it actually worked. I might have to try it out for a spin next time.” The sound of that voice has you almost dropping the Memory Gun, your blood running cold. You could almost feel the phantoms of those fingers around your neck, but try to push away the image, refusing to turn around to even look at Bill.

Rising up slowly, you attempt to walk past Ford’s body, hoping to continue your original plan. It was wishful thinking, a tight grasp enclosed around your wrist. “Oof, not the cold shoulder, gemstone. That may work on Sixer, but I much prefer direct communication.” Bill tugs you back with some force, your feet losing balance. The hands that you once found comfort in grip your forearms tightly to catch you. 

“Listen, Cipher, I’ve stayed out of the way just like you wanted. I just want to get a glass of water and go back upstairs.” You sigh under your breath, refusing to give Bill the satisfaction he craves to see the pain in your eyes as you avert your gaze. His narrow pupils examine you, “Oh, I know you got my message loud and clear last time, gemstone. Unfortunately, I haven’t been able to give the same one to your hillbilly friend. Maybe we should wake him up and tell him.”  

Your head finally snaps to meet Bill’s sadistic grin, opening Ford’s mouth wide about to yell. You wriggle your arm out of his hold, slapping a hand over his mouth, “Don’t you dare rope Fiddleford into this.” Bill pulls away, grinning down at you mockingly. He releases his grip on you, tapping his chin, “Hmm, I have a proposition for ya, gemstone.”

Your eyebrow raises, a pit in your stomach forming. Whatever his proposition is, it can’t be good. 

Bill continues before you can begin to question him, “You keep Hillbilly from interfering with my work with Ford, and I’ll make sure Ford gets the rest you want him to.”

You whip your head up to meet his gaze incredulously, his proposition seemingly contradicting the message he had given you a few weeks ago, “I thought you wanted him focused on working on the portal. Why would you actually give him rest?” 

Bill gives a shrug, “I forget you humans have these fleshy bodies that are dependent on things like sleep and food. As a result, Sixer’s work has gotten pretty sloppy. Maybe getting some sleep and an actual meal might do him some good.”

You scoff, “It’s almost like you actually care about him.”

“I’m all about efficiency. I mean some of those formulas were rough, you should’ve seen them.” Bill brushes off the notion, circling you almost like a predator circles its prey before extending his hand out with a wide grin that’s almost cartoon-like as Ford’s gums are clearly visible.

“So do we have a deal, Gemstone?”

You glance at the extended hand with hesitation.

There has to be a catch to this… but isn’t this what you wanted this whole time? 

Looking past the entity possessing his body, you see how dark the circles are underneath Ford’s eyes, his chin dotted with stubble, and his skin stripped of any glow. 

Your hand reaches to shake Bill’s hand, “You got yourself a deal, Cipher.”

Ford’s expression turns sour, seeing you fall into the same trap he found himself in when he first met Bill. A false hope that the deal would be honored and everyone would get what they wanted. That’s what Bill preyed on.

Humanity’s inner wishes, desires, hopes and dreams for the future.

“Ah jeez that means…” Fiddleford’s foot began tapping against the ground, that old feeling of paranoia seeping back in.

“Bill was able to access her mindscape..” Ford finishes his thought. He reaches over to tap Fiddleford’s hand, reminding him to focus on solving the Rubik’s cube. “Say F, did you ever have dreams like Y/N?”

Fiddleford blinked, shaking his head and causing his long beard to shake about, “Nope, but I used that memory gun till the cows came home, Ford.”

Ford hummed, “Stanley would have them occasionally… vague details but certain faces and parts were just blank or he woke up before he could make them out.” He glances over at his friend cautiously, “Shall we forge on?”

Fiddleford takes a deep breath before nodding, giving Ford the green light to pick up where they left off.

You glance over your shoulder, hearing Fiddleford’s feet pacing around the kitchen. 

Ford had just left to get some fresh air after spending another night cooped up in the basement and catching up with his journal entries, stopping by a local diner. This left you alone with Fiddleford for once, his anxieties finally tumbling out. 

“And this muse of his gives me the heebie jeebies. Whenever he takes over Ford’s body, it’s straight from Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, Y/N, I tell ya.” Fiddleford rambles, “Maybe we should put a stop to all this research, I feel like we’re dipping into territory I’d rather not touch. Ya gotta talk some sense into him, Y/N.”

Your eyes meet, your gaze sympathetic as you place the dishes you were cleaning down and wipe your hands off with a rag. Every fiber in your being wants to tell your friend that you agree, that you two should both confront Ford together, and perhaps the concern of the two people he is closest to would sway his desire for answers and to prove his worth.

However, the deal you made with Bill echoes through your head when you see concern etched across Fiddleford’s expression.

“Listen, Fidds, I know things have been tough…” You begin, the words struggling to come out. Your brain echoes the word ‘Liar’ over and over again as you attempt to assuage Fiddleford’s concerns, “But we have to trust Ford. He’s so close to accomplishing his life’s work, and he needs our support.”

“I dunno, Y/N, I have a bad feeling about this portal. Like what if this unleashes some cosmic horror or tears us apart atom by atom?” Fiddleford sighs, sharing the doomsday scenarios that were constantly circling his brain.

You place your hands on his shoulders, shaking him from his thoughts. “Fidds, this is Ford we’re talking about. The man is the embodiment of pure logic. If the portal had any hint of that, he would have caught it by now.” You say, a taste of your own hope on your tongue when you say that. “He needs us… but I get you need a break. The holidays are right around the corner, how about you go and visit Emma May? I can hold down the fort.”

Fiddleford gazes back at you, seeing the desperation in your eyes and lets out a heavy sigh. He gives a wary smile, placing a hand atop yours, “A break sounds like a good idea. Maybe it’ll give me a fresh set of eyes with this project.”

Your shoulders relax at Fiddleford’s response, but you still feel the heaviness on your tongue from the words that felt like lies. 

‘I’m so sorry, Fidds… I have to make sure Ford gets some rest.’ You think.

Bill kept up his end of the bargain.

Winter came and went without a trace of his presence. Fiddleford left to be with his family during the holidays. You and Ford spent some quality time together, huddled by the fireplace and reading together in silence, before Fiddleford inevitably returned.

Watching Ford and Fiddleford put up lights to hang onto the portal with a mug of eggnog in hand, it felt symbolic of what you had hoped were new beginnings and putting the past few months of building this portal behind you.

Your hopes were dashed after waking up the following morning, your bare feet barely avoiding the glass from the snowglobe Fiddleford had gifted Ford that laid shattered on the floor. You had woken up to an empty bed, and Ford was nowhere to be found.

“Well, well, well, look who’s finally up!”

Your blood ran cold at the sound of that mocking voice that you had hoped you would never hear again. You glance over your shoulder, looking for Ford’s form first. Instead, everything around you is tinted in gray, the world around you eerily still. A low whistle comes from above you, and your eyes lock with the yellow triangle that sits atop the bookshelf, his eye squinting almost with glee.

“... Bill? Where the hell is Ford?” You ask, a bit surprised to finally see him in his true form that you’d seen in tapestries that lined Ford’s office in the basement. Your mind goes to potential worst case scenarios, which Bill almost laughs at, now having access to your thoughts and mindscape.

“Whoa, whoa, quite the active brain you’ve got there, gemstone! Lucky for you this isn’t a Mayan human sacrifice situation, Sixer’s in the basement working on the portal.” Bill says mockingly, circling around you.

“I thought we had a deal…” You mutter, wincing at Bill’s cackle.

“We did, and did I not hold up my end of the bargain, gemstone?” Bill says, flicking you in the nose, “Sixer got a whole month off like you wanted, and now he’s ready to start working on the portal again! Besides, I don’t need you to keep the hillbilly away anymore, turns out a more direct approach worked on Sixer.”

You feel frozen in place, the walls caving in on you as any hopes of being rid of Bill are completely shattered. You can practically envision the massive grin across Bill’s features if he had a mouth as your face deflates into defeat.

“Now don’t be so down in the dumps, gemstone!” Bill says with a light hearted tone, “We’re this close to the finish line,” emphasizing it by squeezing his fingers together, “and you wouldn’t want to pull Sixer away from it when he can just taste it, right?”

Your blood boils as Bill continues to the charade of acting like he’s some benevolent being assisting Ford in his research, that pushing Ford to the brink of exhaustion was somehow benefitting him, “You can’t convince me that you don’t have an ulterior motive to this portal, Bill…”

Bill’s eye narrows at you, his light-hearted facade cracking briefly, and he floats close to your face, “Oh, I don’t have to convince you. I’ve already got Sixer convinced, but go ahead and try to stop me, gemstone.” He cackles and begins to float away, disappearing from your sight and the hues of the room around you finally coming back.

You jump at the sudden sound of Fiddleford calling out your name for a third time. He had stumbled upon you on the way to the kitchen staring down at the snowglobe that was shattered on the floor, almost as if you were fixed in a trance.

“Everything alright? Ya look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Fiddleford asks, bending down to pick up the glass shards that were dangerously close to your feet.

Paranoia seeps through your veins, feeling as if Bill is watching you through every damn triangular shaped window in the shack. You gulp, the truth getting stuck in your throat before letting out a shaky, “Y-Yeah… let me help you.”

The two men watch helplessly as Bill makes it his personal mission over the following weeks to get rid of any fight that was left in you to raise your concerns to Ford. Bill had full reign to your mindscape after the deal, giving him access to the darkest depths of your psyche - your fears, your hopes, your insecurities. All of which he used to concoct pure nightmare fuel, night after night. Your evenings were spent tossing and turning in your sheets, haunted by unsettling visions of your worst fears. 

The only respite at this point was forcing yourself to stay up as late as possible, sitting on the roof of the cabin. The night sky being the only thing you could rely on as Fiddleford’s anxiety grew worse, and the gap between you and Ford continued to widen, his own paranoia growing.

“All this time, I thought I was the only one Bill had subjected this torture too… if only I had known… if only I hadn’t pushed her away, maybe we could’ve gotten through this together.” Ford reflects out loud, feelings of regret bubbling to the surface, “She had to go through this all alone, no wonder she wanted nothing to do with me at the end of it all.”

“Can’t beat yourself up over the past, S… you couldn’t have known..” Fiddleford attempts to provide Ford comfort before being cut off, “You knew, she knew! Everyone has been able to see through Bill’s sweet talk and deception except for me… all it took was a couple boosts of my ego and he played me like a sucker.” Ford sighs, running his hands through his gray locks.

Fiddleford reaches up to grab Ford’s forearms, “Listen, S, we can’t change what happened back then, but trying to forget and pointing fingers didn’t get us nowhere. All we can do now is learn from our mistakes, and move forward.” 

Fiddleford’s rational words calm Ford down for a moment, and he lets out a sigh, “You’re right… I’m honestly surprised after everything, she didn’t ask you to wipe her memories sooner.”

“Even up till the end, she was trying her darndest not to… everything that happened with Bill was what spooked her into considering it in the first place.” Fiddleford sighs, knowing that he’ll have to relive the moment you came to him in tears, begging to have your memories erased.

“Did Bill ever try to enter your mind, Fiddleford? He doesn’t always have to make a deal with you in order to gain access to your mindspace.” Ford asked, mostly out of concern that yet another person close to him was plagued by Bill. Fiddleford shook his head vehemently, “Nope, and I didn’t need no metal plate in my head either like you,” he knocked on his head, “Guess my brain was a bit too scrambled for him.” 

Ford lets out a chuckle, “I will admit perhaps the metal plate was a bit overkill.”

The levity is suddenly sucked out of the room when the static clears, Ford’s voice echoing through the room.

“Fine, I don’t need anyone! I don’t need Fiddleford, and I don’t need you! All you’ve ever done is hold me back!”

Ford winces at the bite behind his words. He acknowledged the impact his words had back then, how hurtful they were, but he hadn’t realized how harsh the sting behind them was until now hearing it. He glances to his right, seeing Fiddleford’s expression drop.

You pack up every single remnant of your existence that was in the Mystery Shack, tears streaming down your face. Your hands stuffing clothes into your suitcase without a semblance of care, your vision blurring to the point where you can barely make out what you’re putting in the bag. 

You reach aimlessly into your bedside drawer to grab as much of your belongings as possible, the wood jostling around before the frame that sits atop of it topples over and falls to the floor. The glass shatters, and yet you don’t waste any time trying to pick it up and salvage it, leaving it behind much like you and Ford’s relationship.

Your feet carry you out the door, giving one last glance at the Mystery Shack. You stood there for a moment, a part of you perhaps hoping that Ford would come running through the door. That he would chase after you, pull you into his arms and apologize for the painful words that were now carved into your psyche. That he would shut down the portal that evening, and leave this whole ordeal and his so-called muse behind. 

The wind howled around you as the last ounce of hope within you died when he didn’t come out.

“You win, Bill!” You yell out at the night sky, “If Ford is what you wanted, then enjoy your fucking prize!” 

You could practically hear his sadistic laughter through the wind, watching as you pathetically make your way into town to search for a place to stay.

The screen abruptly cuts to a more serene image of you wearing what looked like Fiddleford’s gray Backupsmore sweater and a pair of pajama pants, walking over to a ringing telephone.

Fiddleford was out for the evening, having left right after dinner to attend a ‘ town meeting’.

You let out a yawn, having been woken up from your nap on the cozy rocking chair to the sound of his phone ringing, the sound piercing through the air.

Your hand picks the phone up off the receiver, pressing it against your ear. Your voice is clearly groggy to the person on the other end, “Hello?”

There’s a pause before the voice lets out an amused chuckle, “Ya know, I was hoping for the hillbilly, but this is even better.”

You blink, pulling the phone away from your face and staring at it in confusion. The voice feels familiar… and not in a comforting way. Is this some sort of practical joke?

“Listen, Fiddleford isn’t here at the moment. I can take a message if-” The voice cuts you off, “No, no, since you’re here, I want to talk to you. See, I’m going to let you decide what I do with Sixer at the end of the night.”

Your eyebrow furrows, feeling a sudden pain in your temple. Why does that sound vaguely familiar? “I’m sorry, but… I’m confused. Who’s Sixer?”

There’s a longer pause. It feels like eternally before the voice on the other end erupts into hysterical laughter, the sound sending chills down your spine. “Oh this is rich… come on, gemstone, I know you’re mad at Fordsy, but that’s just cruel.”

The nickname and the mention of Ford causes the phone to slip from your grasp, the memories flooding back in an instant.

The sunstone sitting on your chest feeling like a slab of concrete, the feeling of hands wrapping around your neck, the same hands that once cradled you tightly underneath the trees.

You hear Bill’s voice mockingly calling for you, stuck in shell-shock to pick the phone back up. You barely pick up what he says last, “Well, I guess that’s my answer, it’s awfully cold tonight, hopefully Sixer doesn’t freeze to death.” The line suddenly goes dead, the dial tone piercing your ears.

Your teeth grit together, knowing that Ford’s fate is now in your hands. Going against your brain’s wishes, your heart propels your body to move. You scramble to grab your winter coat that’s hung up by the door, and make your way through the snow-coated terrain.

The wind pricks your skin, your feet acting off muscle memory back to where you and Ford started this life in Gravity Falls together a few years ago. There’s a brief doubt that maybe it was too easy to assume that Bill would leave Ford out near the shack, but knowing the dream demon’s sick sense of humor, you figured he wouldn’t pass up on the opportunity to taunt you.

As you approach the shack, you see a figure standing on top of the roof. Your eyes widen, the flurries of snow and the dark sky making it difficult to make out if it was Ford or Bill. Walking up to the steps, you hope for the former. To your surprise, it only takes a push of your hand against the door to give you access to the place that was once your home. 

The sound of “Sweet Dreams” by Eurythmics immediately graces your ears as you pass the living room to ascend up the staircase to make it to the roof. You pay it no mind for now, the only thought in your head is to make sure Ford was safe. Your feet carry you up the steps, finally making your way to the top and pushing the stubborn piece of wood that stood between you and the rooftop.

Your face is immediately met with a cold gust of wind and a smattering of snow hitting your cheeks. Brushing the snowflakes off your skin, you pop your head through the opening, seeing Ford’s body rigid, icicles dangling from his nose and his skin blue in hue. God, he must’ve been out here for hours before Bill even made the phone call to you.

You make your way back down the ladder, grabbing a pair of gloves out of Ford’s room that was in disarray since you had departed. An extra appendage of cloth dangles from the side as you slide them on, taking a deep breath before making your way back up the roof. You drag Ford’s almost lifeless body down with you, almost worried that if you were to drop him, he would shatter into fragments.

Your initial thought was to bring him to his room, but you knew that he needed heat - immediately. Deciding to brave whatever Bill had prepared for Ford, you make your way to the living room. Ignoring the polaroids scattered all over the floor and the cassette tape that is set on the floor, you place Ford in the chair in front of the TV, and make your way to the fireplace. You almost roll your eyes at how a set of matches and fuel for the fire were conveniently left out. 

Could this be a rare act of kindness by Bill? Perhaps. 

You knew in reality, it was similar to a predator playing with its prey before it went in for the kill.

You strike the match, watching the flames engulf the wood. Pulling your gloves off, you pour the fuel on top to keep the flame going for a few hours at least before Ford becomes conscious. You finally take a look back at Ford, seeing the ice begin to melt and his skin start to become more pink.

There was a part of you that wished you could be here when he woke. Part of you wished you had a fight left in you, and that you could stand beside Ford to face Bill. Finally taking in the surroundings and seeing the twisted game that Bill had in store for Ford, you also knew that you couldn’t have any part of this anymore. 

You couldn’t put your sanity, your peace on the line once more.

The taste on your mouth is bittersweet as you walk back out the door, closing it and the life you had with Ford behind you. Your body feels heavy, and yet your feet practically sprint back to the comfort of Fiddleford’s cozy hut. You’re greeted to the sight of Fiddleford still wearing his Society of the Blind Eye cape, his hair askew and his gaze panicked as you burst through the door.

“Sweet sarsaparilla, Y/N! At least leave a note if you’re leaving, you worried me sick! I thought-” Fiddleford is suddenly cut off, letting out a yelp as you run into his arms, tears soaking his maroon cloak. “H-Hey now, what happened?” He stutters, grasping your chin and pulling it up to gaze back at him. You look a mess - tears streaming down your face, and your cheeks and nose bright red from the wind and your sniffles.

You finally let everything out, your sobs echoing through the small space and your body shaking as you recount the last few hours. 

The two of you sit in silence as your sobs slowly soften. Fiddleford rubs your back soothingly, his brow furrowing at the mention of Bill and his eyes unbeknownst to you flitting around the hut out of paranoia. He knows the solution that he’s presented to others to forget but he’s reluctant to offer yet again to use the memory gun on you. 

It was one thing to erase the memory of the anomalies from his own brain and the brains of several Gravity Falls residents, but asking him to relieve you of every single memory you had of the man you both cared deeply about, he was conflicted. Your time with Ford encompassed most of your adult life, and he would be taking away essentially years of your life. He had attempted to talk you out of it, but when he saw how all sense of joy had been sucked out of you and your eyes puffy from all the tears you had shed, he caved, wanting to take away the pain.

“Fidds, I can’t stay here… I need to go back home.” You finally let out a sigh, “Everything about this place is a potential reminder of Ford… I just want to put this all behind me.” Fiddleford nods, “I understand… do you wanna..” he trails off, getting choked up over the thought of erasing your memories again. 

“Yes… and I’m going to need you to erase my memories of Bill too.” You say, “I don’t want him to have any more power over me…” 

Fiddleford glances back down at you, uncertainty swimming through his pupils, “And you’re sure about this?”

You nod vehemently, and he lets out a soft sigh, “Alright, let’s get you a ticket back home and then we can do it tonight."

“Hey Fidds…”

“Yeah…”

“Thank you, I know this hasn’t been easy for you either.”

After booking your one-way ticket back home, Fiddleford finally stands up, grabbing the Memory Gun. It feels heavy in his hands despite just spending the evening using it on the residents of Gravity Falls. He first types out Bill’s name before looking back at you sitting on the floor, “Are you sure you want this, Y/N?”

You nod, “I’m sure, Fidds. I spent so many years of my life revolving around Ford… I want to do the things I put on hold, and I know if I still have his memory lingering in my mind, I’ll be stuck for a long time.”

Fiddleford gives one final nod before suddenly hugging you tightly, “Don’t be a stranger now. I expect a letter about your adventures when ya get the time.”

You chuckle sadly, returning the embrace, “I won’t be, Fidds.” 

Feeling the cool bulb pressed against your forehead, you close your eyes, envisioning your last conversation you had with Ford, the man that you still had so much love for, getting everything off your chest without a rebuttal, before leaving the Mystery Shack.

“I can’t believe we’re here, Ford. Never thought that when I turned down that job at the National Parks and followed you out here this is where we’d be.” You reach out to brush your fingers over his ice cold ones, “I loved being your number one supporter, encouraging you any time you had your doubts, I loved seeing you blossom… but I didn’t realize I was wilting and I have to put myself first finally, Ford.”

Your voice becomes shaky as tears begin to stream down your face, but your statement is said with conviction, “I’m going to live out my dreams like we talked about… I’m going to get that job at the National Parks, spend my days cataloguing all the marvelous gems and stones that nature creates and my nights gazing up at the stars… and even though I won’t remember you, just know I’ll be thinking of you when I look up at them. Ad astra per aspera, right?” You let out a sad chuckle before you lean forward to press one final kiss against Ford’s lips.

“I hope you’ll think of me when you look up at them, too. Goodbye, Ford.”

The duo were so immersed in what was happening on the screen before them that they hadn’t heard you descending the staircase. Searching for Ford to continue watching your memories, Stanley had told you that Ford wasn’t in his room, and made a passing comment that Fiddleford’s son was out front waiting for him. You came down just in time to witness the last memory laid out in front of you. 

Your hold on your journal in hand slips from your grasp, the sudden thud against the cold concrete of the basement causes Ford and Fiddleford to whip their heads to look back at where the sound came from.

Ford’s eyes lock with yours, and before his body can move, yours goes straight into autopilot, unable to sit with these emotions that run wild in the pit of your stomach. Your head reeling, the images of Bill plaguing your mindscape after years of peace from his taunting voice.

“Y/N wait-!” Ford yells out, watching you flee back up the stairs. His body feels stuck in freeze, the antithesis to your flight. 

His friend shakes him out of his stupor, “What’re you waiting for, S? Go after ‘er!”

Ford digs his heels into the concrete, reluctant to follow his friend’s suggestion, “What if my presence makes things worse, F? Maybe I should give her some space.”

“Well, ya did that forty years ago and look what happened!” Fiddleford says in exasperation.

Fiddleford’s words ring through Ford’s brain, and the image of you walking up those stairs and out of his life once again pains him more than he can describe. He made this mistake already, he can’t afford to make it again. 

Stanford Pines is a man of logic, decisions carefully crafted after running every variable and probability through to the last decimal.

And yet he decides for once to use his heart, and not his mind to make this decision.

His feet finally move, chasing after you like he should have forty years ago.

[cipherstarling]

Love Language Headcanons [Stanford Pines x Reader]

I stayed up til 3 am thinking about this man. I will be finding a way to integrate these HCs in To Sonder

Ford loved you so reverently, so deeply that it often left you speechless. This man thrives off acts of service and he loves showering you with gifts. 

*✧･ﾟ: ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──*✧･ﾟ: ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──*✧･ﾟ: ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──✧*

💙 He wasn't clueless to your affections, but he does have trouble comprehending why you liked him back. 

💙 He looks forward to the way your eyes would brighten when you see him. It’s like seeing a comet fly in the night sky, rare and reserved only for him.

💙 Your cheeks would turn an adorable rosy color because of him, and he doesn’t really understand why at first. He does NOT know how much of a catch he is, damn.

💙 He thinks of you whenever he finds a pink flower out in the wild. Whenever the skies turn pink on a hot summer afternoon, it’s you who occupies his mind. 

💙 He'd leave you dried flowers in your favorite spots in the shack. At first, you chalked it up to his forgetfulness. He tends to leave unfinished notes and contraptions all around the house.

💙 Whenever you'd bring his supposedly unfinished projects back to him, he merely smiles at you and tells you to keep them. 

💙 Eventually, you had enough flowers to fill an album. He'd be really happy if you collected them and stored them carefully.

💙 Stanford's talents weren't limited to science and invention- he was also an artist.

💙 Admittedly, he does sketch you- a lot. Some of these drawings do slip out of his journals or he simply forgets to put them away- they'll fall out of his pocket. 

💙 He will wake you up at 4 in the morning to show you a goddamn cryptid- or anomaly, as he refers to it- he plucked off the forest floor from one of his excursions.

💙 It would be something marvelous and beautiful. He sometimes forgets people need sleep, though eventually, he'll learn to wait til next morning to show you pictures or take you where he found the new creature. 

💙 He'll make you trinkets!

💙 He can't really sit still for too long. So whenever you tell him to relax and lock him out of the lab and his study, he'll have an impromptu arts and crafts session. 

💙 He's made you a tiny terrarium filled with pretty, bioluminescent moss.

💙 He made you a locket! What's so special about it? Well, it may look normal but he engraved it himself with his homemade laser! He nearly lost a few fingers in the process, but hey, he reasoned that had an extra two if it did happen!,

💙 He gave you things that had the color spectrum only shrimps could see. 

💙 Sometimes, you'll catch him staring at a blue flower he kept on his desk. A dreamy, wistful expression rested on his face before a huff resembling a laugh would escape him.

💙 One day, he'll tell you that he could see one of those special colors the human eye can't quite comprehend. One day, he'll tell you about the being who named an impossible color after him, the closest he's ever been to having a love letter written to him by an equally impossible being. 

💙 This man is so unbelievably touch starved, that he'll never initiate physical contact. You may have to take the lead on this one. 

💙 Or maybe, he wouldn't even realize he initiated contact until after it happened. 

💙 Maybe that invisible wall Ford built around himself would crumble one rainy day. 

💙 You'd be shivering. His Ma raised a gentleman, so he gives you his coat. He holds a small umbrella over you- he didn't really account for being out in the forest with someone else today. So he leans it over your side, making sure you're dry and soaking his shirt to keep you mostly warm.

💙 He frowned at the way you rubbed your hands together and shook under the weather. 

💙 He cups a warm hand around your smaller ones. He reassures you you're almost back home as he rubbed smooth, calming circles over the back of your hand.

💙 But in a blink, he'll realize how close he got. He turns into an absolute tomato and starts stuttering. You giggle as he pulls his hand away and shoves them deep into his pocket. 

💙 You keep your hand over his, gently guiding the umbrella so that it covers him too. The poor man's gonna catch a cold at this rate.

💙 Eventually, he'll learn to be more forward and show you more affection.

💙 He'll intentionally stand as close to you as he can, hoping you'd hug him or hold his hand. 

💙 He'll melt if you reach out and adjust his glasses for him. Leaning his face into the palm of your hand while fixing you with the softest look ever. 

💙 Out of the blue, he'd sometimes catch you off guard and hug you from behind. He forgets how quiet his footsteps are, after years of learning to sneak around skittish creatures for his work.

💙 Even when he's distracted by note taking and reading, he'll grope around blindly for your hand. Resting it around yours as he mumbled and crunched numbers for his latest invention. 

💙 At night, he definitely is a big spoon. The man's a furnace, and if you're cold, he'll actually enjoy that. It balances him out. Insert nerdy scientific joke about how opposites attract, here!

💙 More to come~

[viceroywrites]

Hello! :) I wanted to make a request for Stanley x Wife reader or younger Stan x gf reader (Idc you can choose)

My cat ran away a day ago, and I can't find him anywhere. I've been feeling really sad about it, and i'm so worried and anxious cuz my cat is a lil scaredy-cat and a picky eater, SO HES NOT MADE FOR THE OUTSIDE WORLD😭

Could you perhaps write some comfort, please? If not, please feel free to ignore this! THANKS

a/n: hi! i'm so sorry you're going through that. here's some younger stan x gf comfort coming up for you, hope you enjoy it and i hope your little guy comes home safely!

---

it had been a rough week.

internally, you were exhausted and just wanted to crawl into bed and hide, but externally, you put on a smile, keeping up the same energy you normally did.

little did you know there was a certain someone saw through the facade.

you were just about to slide under the covers, ready to call it a night early after a tiring day of putting on a brave face.

plink.

you blink in confusion, turning your head towards the window. you thought you heard something, but once the noise quickly dissipated, you assumed it might have been one of the branches of the tree next to your window hitting the glass from the strong winds that were howling. your back faces away from the window once again.

plink.

putting your blanket back into place, you begin to make your way to the window. your eyes widen at the small rock that clinks against the glass, the source of the sound. your eyebrows are furrowed in annoyance, ready to yell at what you assumed was some kids in the neighborhood trying to cause some trouble.

"hey, knock it off!" you yell, cracking your window open in frustration.

it catches you off guard to be greeted by your boyfriend of a few months, stanley pines, grinning back at you. a rock in his hand, the other tucked into the brown leather jacket over his broad shoulders.

"took ya long enough! was getting worried you already fell asleep, toots." stan snickered, discarding the rock onto the ground.

"stan, what're you doing here?" you say with alarm.

"can't a guy come and surprise his girl? i didn't realize i had to schedule an appointment to see ya." stan replies with a playful grin, "come join me for a joy ride, got the old man's keys for the night."

"meaning you stole those keys." you point out with a playful roll of your eyes.

stan simply shrugs, "tomato, toe-mato. same thing."

you glance down at your attire, having already changed into your pajamas. you bite down on your lip, "i'm already in my PJs, stan..."

stan brushes off your concern, "no need to get all dolled up, ya look great. just grab a jacket and come on down. your chariot awaits ya." he grins, gesturing to the red el diablo parked on the curb in front of your house.

you let out a sigh, a genuine smile creeping across your tired features. what the hell? you probably weren't gonna feel any better laying bed.

you walk away from the window, shutting it and grab the jacket on top of the pile of clothing that was growing in the corner of your room. sneaking down the stairs, you quietly close the door behind you, running into stan's embrace as he hugs you tight. inhaling the scent of his woodsy aftershave, you glance up at him.

"the old throwing rocks at your window? kinda cliche, pines." you tease. stan stammers over his words, trying to defend himself as he walks you to the car.

"so where are we going anyways?" you ask, slipping into the passenger side.

"that's surprise." stan grins, closing your door, leaving you confused.

-

the two of you walk along the empty pier of glass shard beach, most of the stalls closing up for the evening.

"thanks for taking me out, stan." you say with soft smile, figuring you were at the end of the adventure with the end of pier leading to the sand in sight. leaving the house actually did help a bit in clearing your head.

"the night's still young, toots. besides we haven't even gotten to the surprise." stan grins, tugging your hand towards the stairs leading down to the sandy beach. you chuckle at his eagerness, following behind him before he suddenly stops, covering your eyes.

"stan, what are you doing?" you giggle, your hands covering his large palms that completely block your vision. "we're almost there, don't wanna ruin the surprise." stan replies, guiding you carefully down the stairs onto the sand.

you take a few more steps before he removes his hands to unveil the surprise.

"ta-da!"

three beach towels that stan dug up from his mom's linen closet made a makeshift blanket in front of the water, a cooler next to it stocked with pitt cola and your favorite snacks, and a bouquet of flowers laying on top of it.

"stan, this is... amazing, but what's the occasion?" you say in confusion and awe, walking towards the set-up.

"seeing you down in the dumps is enough of an occasion for me." stan says, crossing his arms over his chest with pride at your reaction, "know it's been a tough week for ya, figured it's the least i could do."

you glance back at stan in surprise, not realizing he had caught on your low mood. and here you thought you had hidden it so well, trying not to worry him and everyone around you.

the tears finally well up in your eyes, and you give him a tight hug, soaking the fabric of his white tee. "how'd you know?" you sniffle.

he strokes the back of your head and scoffs, almost offended by your question, "you expect me to not know when you're faking it? i'm no genius like ford, but i've got enough sense to know what a real smile of yours looks like." stan presses a kiss on top of your head as you finally let the waterworks loose, rubbing your back soothingly.

"thank you...." you say through your sobs.

"anything for you, doll." he hums against your hair.

-

"you set this up all by yourself?" you ask, taking a sip of the pitt cola stan had just opened for you.

"well... i had a little help."

"... is that why we ran into ford at the beginning of the pier?"

"hey, he owed me a favor!"

[viceroywrites]

apologies for the delays with the ford chapter and deja vu updates in general.

despite reblogging here and there, my mental health hasn't been the greatest so i've been avoiding writing but i'm getting a bit better and hopefully can get the chapter out soon.

really appreciate everyone's patience. <3

[darlingdaisyfarm]

HEYY!! DIDN’T NOTICE THE ASK BUTTON UNTIL NOW! IM JUST WONDERING HOW YOUR DOING, AND HAPPY LATE BIRTHDAYYY (I apologize for not saying sooner, just found out how to like idk ask or something)

I SWEAR I DON’T MEAN TO SOUND PUSHY OR IF I ASK TOO MANY TIMES, PLEASE JUST SAY IF UTS ANNOYING, BUT DO YOU HAVE: “Jealous!Stanford Pines x Reader” ? CAUSE IDK IM JUST CURIOUS 😭💔

⋆౨ৎ˚ jealous!Ford x you hcs ˖ ࣪

ahhh, thank u so much sweetheart!! no it's not annoying at all, pls dont say that. and sure, here it is! honestly it was pretty helpful for me too because im writing a fic where Ford experiences jealousy. i think it also depends on what exactly he's jealous of (his own brother, random person, pet, etc) and your stage of the relationship

warning its a bit suggestive at the end

ꪆৎ Ford's jealous streak is most obvious when it comes to your mind, i think. like, if you’re showing too much interest in someone else’s ideas, books, or theories, he’ll be the first to drop some passive-aggressive comments

ꪆৎ you’re talking about some science or philosophy with someone, and Ford’s watching, feeling that tiny gnawing jealousy of someone challenging his brilliance. . . he won’t snap, but you'll catch him slipping in little comments, “well, actually, my research on this subject. . . ah, never mind. not worth mentioning to a layperson” ofc it's not directed at you! but to that idiot who dared to interest you

ꪆৎ later, though, after a long talk, he’ll pull you into his study and try to “explain” why only his thoughts matter <333 “you should know, sweetheart, i have 12 phds, allow me to explain you this properly.”

ꪆৎ “what? i’m not upset. i just think it’s interesting that you laughed at his joke when i’ve been trying to impress you with my brain for three years.”

ꪆৎ he starts touching you more too. hand on your knee during conversations. brushing your fingers when handing you smth. standing behind you, palm at the small of your back when you’re with others. and yet still, he doesn’t say a word because he doesn't wanna ruin anything. but his body moves on its own. “this is mine,” is what he’s trying to say

ꪆৎ Stan has always been the loud, charismatic one. Ford’s the thinker, the quiet one, who would rather bury himself in books than make small talk but he just cant help it. Ford doesn’t like it, he doesn’t like how his heart races with frustration or how his fists ball up, wanting to grab you and pull you away. he wont do it, but it doesn't mean he cant imagine it

ꪆৎ if you wear something revealing, Ford absolutely adores it, but insists on walking right next to you all evening

ꪆৎ he overhears you talking about a celebrity crush and spends ten minutes googling them in secret, furiously comparing their jawlines, yeah

ꪆৎ OMG. i believe he clears his throat when someone flirts with you... you know

ꪆৎ if it’s Stan flirting with you, Ford plays it off like he’s above it “Stanley, can you be serious for once?” but his eyes are laser-focused on you, reading your expression

ꪆৎ lmao, you'll probably hear smth as “i hope you had a pleasant conversation with my brother. he can be. . . charming, when he wishes.” prob says it with the politeness of someone screaming internally. and then he obsessively throws himself into work, convinced he's being ridiculous. you're allowed to have friends. you’re not his. not really

ꪆৎ i mean, he wants you to be. but he's terrified of what he might become if he lets himself act like it

ꪆৎ a lot of phrases like “well, i would’ve helped you carry that, but i assume your new friend has that covered.”

“no, go ahead! ill wait. im clearly not as exciting to talk to.” he’ll say it politely though, you wont even notice. even with a smile. and if you don’t pick up on it, he gets quiet and tells himself he’s just being irrational, but it still eats him alive

ꪆৎ Ford still tries to suppress it, but his eyes give him away. he stares. hard. at the person touching you. at the way your mouth curves. at your hands when they gesture

ꪆৎ and if he lets this jealousy win in the public, which happens like really rarely, Ford will absolutely pull you away from a conversation. six fingered hand at your elbow, “excuse us” and you’ll be halfway down the hall before he spins you against the wall

ꪆৎ but may also say, when you're two alone after you spend whole evening talking to someone, “oh, im sorry, were you enjoying yourself? you seemed so. . . engaged with them. i didn’t want to interrupt.”

ꪆৎ you get a pet. a cat, a dog, whatever. and suddenly your affection is going to this creature and not him. Ford doesn’t act out but he gets so still. sits next to you while you pet it, hand on your thigh, but not saying a word. you look over and he finally admits, looking so needy, “i’m being ridiculous but i want to be babied too” so you pull him into your lap instead and he kisses your shoulder with a quiet smile <3

ꪆৎ he gets also weirdly sulky about it. “you let the cat sleep on your chest, when it's my turn?”, “i counted, you kissed it on the head four times. i only got two :(” yes he’s serious. he’s a little unwell

ꪆৎ uhh, u call your pet “baby” and Ford visibly pouts

ꪆৎ if you’re talking to someone “too long” at a gathering, Ford won’t interrupt. but he will appear silently next to you, hand brushing your lower back, and when you finally break away and turn to him like “what’s up?” he’ll smile, as always, so polite. “nothing. i just missed the sound of your voice”

“that person seemed very interested in you. lucky them.”

“did you like the way they looked at you?”

ꪆৎ and the thing is, he’s insecure. so when he’s possessive, it’s always laced with guilt. Ford hates that he wants to stake a claim. hates how it feels to need you so much it makes his skin crawl when you’re focused on someone else

ꪆৎ Ford's jealousy always turns into guilt. he’s always so self-critical, he feels like he should be better than this. Ford knows it’s irrational, that you wouldn’t cheat or leave him for someone else, but it doesn’t stop the surge of possessiveness.

ꪆৎ he can’t help but feel like maybe he’s not enough for you, and that’s what sparks the jealousy in the first place. he feels the jealousy deep in his chest, this irrational, ugly thing he can’t quite stamp out

ꪆৎ he’ll kiss your neck just a little too hard. grip your wrist too long. but it’s always followed by “was that okay?” or “i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to get carried away.” and god help him if you ever tease him for it

ꪆৎ “ohhh, baby. you’re jealous, aren’t you?” he’ll bristle, sputter, adjust his coat and glasses, trying to avoid looking into your eyes. “that’s ridiculous. i— no, i simply don’t appreciate disrespect. I’m not. . . possessive.” but when you'll play this game of silence, watching him, waiting him to spill it, oh he will!! “okay. was it that obvious?” he’ll say this so small. you’ll want to eat him alive <3

ꪆৎ Ford doesn’t always keep it all bottled up, so then, when you’re finally alone and he got u all to himself, he’s kissing you, but being more rough about it, not like hurting you, but sometimes, i like when Ford gets more dominant and brave in his actions. hand around your jaw, palm splayed across your back, pulling you in. “you’re mine.” he'll whisper right into your lips because hes lowkey getting turned on by your little gasps whenever he tightens his grip. “no one else gets to hear these sounds from you. please, tell me, tell me im the only one.” he always has to ask, always needs to hear it back

ꪆৎ if you ever jokingly mention how hot he gets when jealous, he will hide his face in your shoulder/neck/hair, very very quietly muttering, “you’re cruel, honey, you enjoy making me lose my mind, don’t you?”