I've been thinking about this a lot recently, especially with all of you guys interpreting this to be for Stan's own funeral. I hadn't even considered that myself, but I am absolutely grabbing that idea and running with it, because that FITS. SO WELL, so thank you.
But I've been imagining Stanford dumping into the funeral ceremony, right after its conclusion. There aren't that many people. It's a warm spring afternoon, the sky is clear. The graveyard isn't a very big one, but it's a familiar one. If you look east, between the trees and some houses and slme streets, you can just barely make out the sea shimmering from the beach.
Stanford walks closer, apprehensive. The small gathering disperses and slowly starts to withdraw back to their cars and Stanford can make out Ma and Pa clearly staying behind by the gravesite together with Stanley. Filbrick clears his throat suspiciously. He adjusts his hat, he adjusts his glasses. He removes them to wipe them expertly on his sleeve before he puts them back on and announces that he's leaving. "Nothing more to bury. There's no point in standing around doing nothing."
Ma stays behind. Stanley stays behind as well. It's around this time Stanford intervenes in other dreams. It's the most effective way for him to get through the dreams and move onto the next one. Besides, it spares both Stanley and himself from too much unnecessary information being shared. Not that Stanford really minds, he's actually starting to get angry about the amount of things he's been kept in the dark about for so long, but he can... Understand why it was never shared. Even if he deeply, deeply wishes it was.
"How about we take a walk down to the beach, Stanford?" Stanford looks up in surprise, just for Stanley to stiffen up uncomfortably. "Sure thing, Ma." Stanford stares from a distance, shocked. Caryn places her hand on Stanley's back and they begin to walk.
Ma and Stanley end up on a bench, before the sidewalk gives way to sand and Stanford remains at a distance. Who on earth does Stanley think he is? Taking his name like that? Taking his life? And who did they bury? When did this farce begin? He needs to know. He has a right to know.
"Stanford." Ma says solemnly.
"Yes?" Stanley replies. Stanford frowns. Even after this many years apart, Stanley's still as good a parrot as ever. More gruff, but other than that it really isn't as noticeable a difference as Stanford had hoped it would be.
"Please forgive him. Stanley never meant for things to end up this way. All he ever wanted was for you two to make up."
Stanford feels the wind go out of him.
It's like the entire dream shifts. Coning in on just the people on the bench. As if everything stops mattering except for that conversation.
Stanley's leg starts to bounce, Stanford can practically feel it in the ground below him.
"Ma, can we not have this conversation right now?"
"If not now, then when?! You were both just young boys when he broke that project and look where it got you. 10 years apart and now you're never going to make that up, because you were both so stubborn and now your brother is buried and you're still not willing to talk about him?"
"Ma, it's not that easy-"
"Yeah?! Well, maybe Stanley shouldn't have been so selfish! And immature! Maybe he wouldn't be dead if he just listened to me for once in his stupid, useless life!"
Ma leans back and away. Stanley leans forwards, his hands come up to his face and he remains like that for long enough that Ma rises from tve bench and leaves the scene. She disperses and disappears into the darkness. The cone of light still only shines on the bench and Stanley pulls off the gloves he's wearing and throws them across the beach angrily. Then he sighs tiredly.
"Are ya gonna join me or just stand over there like some kind of stalker?"
A cone of light sharply hit him and he's sitting on the bench. There's the sound of the waves crashing onto the shore further down. There's a gull screaming from above, all sounds he hadn't been aware of before. He doesn't know what to say. Stanley doesn't seem to know either, but he seems more willing to make the effort.
"Found what you're looking for yet?" Stan asks. Stanford opens his mouth, then closes it and starts over. He clears his throat, straightens in his seat.
"I'm afraid not. It seems I need to get further into the future before I'll start making any progress."
Stanley frowns, more than he already was. "You're looking for that, uh, portal you fell into, aren't you?"
Stanford nods. Stanley doesn't seem to like that very much. "Ya want me to think about that time you fell through it again? Because there is no way in hell I'm thinking about that right now."
Stanford remembers that dream very, very well. And as it turns out, going through the portal from Stanley's mind, means coming out on the other end to absolutely nothing. Stanley doesn't know what's on the other end, and Stanford's guessing he's refusing to imagine it, because with everything Stanford's seen Stanley being able to do with his own mind, he's pretty sure he could've thought up a lot of pretty good guesses.
Stanford shakes his head. "I already visited that dream. I guess I have to wait until you know more about it for it to work."
"Hmm... You don't sound too happy about that."
"Of course I'm not happy about it, Stanley! You're trying to start up a world ending death machine! You read all my warnings on it, you know what I think about it!"
Stanley waves him off with a grumble. "Yeah, yeah, who're you to stop me? You're in a, what was it, a dream-dimension?-"
"-Technically a broadcasting hub for dreams and other-"
"-So, a dream dimension."
"A gross oversimplification, Stanley, but... Yes."
Stanley laughs suddenly. He slaps his knee, points a finger and goes: "Geez, if I ever doubted whether you were real before, then I definitely believe you're real now!"
Stanford blinks owlishly. "You doubted whether I was real?"
"Are ya kidding? Of course I doubted if you were real. You're dressed weird, you're black and white and even when I was a kid, I woke up and you were right there with me - Without a clue what I was yapping about. Why should I have believed you were just in my head?"
"When did you change your mind then?"
Stanley's face falls and he looks sideways and away. It dawns on Stanford immediately.
"Kinda hard to write it off with all the weird things happening in Gravity Falls."
And after you were eaten by a giant portal, it's hard not to believe it. Stanford swallows. After a while, the anger snd resentment towards Stanley's he's fostered over the years have become more complicated. He knows Stanley has taken up working on the portal, he knows he's started touring his house for money, it's not hard to make the link to why he's now faking his death.
If it wasn't because Stanford at every opportunity has been urging Stanley to drop it and leave. Take the journal, and leave. Stanford's already made his peace with things being as they are.
Stanford looks back up. He must've gotten lost in thought. Stanley's bowing his head, wringing his hands. "I'm sorry about that project, six."
And he sounds it. Stanley sounds sorry. Maybe it's because it's a dream. Maybe there's still some doubt about the reality of everything. Or maybe it's money stress, or the echo of Ma pleading with them to make up. Maybe it's all of it.
Stanford is surprised none the less. Up until this point, he can't think of a single moment he's ever imagined he'd be hearing that apology. And now, upon hearing it, he realizes he's never considered whether he'd feel ready to forgive or not.
Stanley isn't looking at him. There are the tell tale tufts of gray interspersed with the brown of his hair. There are lines and old scara on his face that Stanford never noticed before. Stanley's been through a lot, Stanford thinks. He's seen a lot of it, has refused to think about much of it. And Stanley is apologizing for ruining his high school project. While living in the proof that Stanford made it regardless.
Stanley almost jumps. A bodily jerk that screams out that he did not expect that response. He keeps wringing his hands.
turnnoffyourmind
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