When Gravity Falls, and earth becomes sky, fear the beast with just one eye...
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You may call me Rust, Meirg or Rua!* I use hy/hym pronouns.
*(The latter two names are Irish, meaning rust and rust-colored, respectively. Pronunciation here [link])
Main blog is @i-eat-rusty-nails. My pinned post over there has more information about me.
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Critfic/ship.[link]
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Boundaries:
[PT: Boundaries:]
I am aplatonic and doing not want people referring to me as a friend.
I am autistic and I have brain damage. I cannot read your mind. If I am doing something to piss you off/make you uncomfortable, you must tell me. If you want to be someone I talk to on a regular basis, you need to understand this.
All zionists, radfems and nazis will be blocked. Die in a hole.
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(stan userbox by @/maqheath, intersex and miku userboxes by @/sweetpeauserboxes)
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i absolutely adore that stan and fords birthday makes them geminis. they put more twin coding in my twins
Oh, dear anon, you are so right!
I do adore this as well. And I should've answered this on their birthday, but unfortunately my brain short-circuited and wrote an awful blurb instead.
I hope you like angst and weird AUs :')
✧˖°――♡――✧˖°
"Hey Stan, you know what's funny?"
Stan shakes his head and tries not to squirm when Stanley places an arm around his shoulders and digs his claw-like fingernails into his skin.
"People call us triplets, but only Stanford and I are real twins."
Stan bites his cheek, trying not to let his brother see his pain.
"You were born on the 21st, do you know what that means?"
Stan nods and to his shame his vision blurs.
"Yes", he says and falls to his knees, hiding his face in his hands.
Stanley kicks them away and forces him to look up.
"Then tell me what you are." Stanley sings and Stan chokes out his answer.
Father places the birthday cake on the kitchen table and gives his brothers one of his rare smiles that was reserved for family only. No one in all of Glass Shard Beach would believe them that stoic and unimpressed Filbrick Pines had a secret soft side, and the man liked it that way.
✧˖°――♡――✧˖°
"Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Stanley and Stanford. Happy birthday to you!"
"You don't make money by looking soft, boy." Father had said to him a few months ago when he had been crying in the shop about something he cannot remember anymore. The shock of being addressed had snapped him out of his self-pity and into a confused jumbled mess of hope, elation and suspicion.
It wasn't a smile of course. Stan doesn't get smiles, but it was advice. Fatherly advice, to make him stop crying.
Or to comfort him, Stanley likes to imagine in his weaker moments.
It is a nice thought, just like imagining his father and mother holding him when he was still a baby. They had to have done that, right? He wouldn't have survived until he could walk on his own otherwise.
Stan hugs himself and rocks back and forth imitating a mother calming down her child. If only Stan could remember what it was like to be picked up and cared for. He would treasure that memory forever.
Just like he did his father's words.
Stanley and Stanford return Father's smile with matching grins of their own and lean over the table to look at the cake.
"Be careful, the fire!" Mother fusses, but neither his brothers nor Father seem to take her seriously.
"It's fine Caryn." He chuckles, chuckles(!), and ruffles his brother's hair. "Our boys are the big 1 O today. They're old enough to handle fire, aren't you?"
"Yes Pa!" Stanley and Stanford answer simultaneously and lean back sheepishly.
Stan raises his hand and tries to copy Father's motion, but his fingers get tangled up in his hair. It knotted up one day and he never managed to untangle it quite right. He considered cutting it, but he was too scared it would make him look worse and make people avoid him more than they already did.
Stan will turn 10 tomorrow as well. Old enough to handle fire, but it was not like Mother ever cared before if Stan lit up some candles to warm up his hands in the winter or keep the night's shadows at bay when he couldn't sleep. Father never liked him wasting electricity.
Would Father smile at him tomorrow? Would he ruffle his hair? Be proud that he made it this far?
"You don't make money by looking soft, boy."
Stan steels his expression and looks bravely forward from his place on the couch.
Father cares.
Father loves him. Not as much as his brothers of course, but he loves him and if Stan is good today then maybe, tomorrow, he will get a present.
"Now, make a wish and blow out the candles."
"Yes, Ma!" His brothers answer. Stanford crunches his face up in thought and looks like he does when he comes across an especially complicated math problem. Stanley however seems to have figured out his wish already, turns around and grins at Stan with a twinkle in his eyes.
Stan suppresses a flinch and forces the corners of his mouth upright.
It's their birthday today. Stan needs to be nice and happy for them and ignore the stone in his empty stomach growing heavier and heavier the longer Stanley looks at him with eyes that mirrored his own.
After what feels like an eternity Stanley turns around again and blows out the candles without waiting for Ford.
"Hey, we were supposed to do that together!" Ford complains but he sounds more concerned about Stanley than angry. It is unfair. Even if his brother does something wrong they still care about him meanwhile Stan—no.
No.
They are different. It's unfair to compare him to Stanley.
Stan is a bad kid. Being jealous of Stanley just makes him worse.
"I'm sorry, Stanford. Stan was distracting me." Stanley grins and this time Stan flinches when four pairs of eyes glare in his direction.
"It's fine, Stanley. I'm not mad at you."
"This is your brothers' big day. If you cannot behave you can stay in your room until you've learned your lesson."
Stan looks down, ashamed.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to." He says, but the words come out no louder than a whisper as if they themselves were sick of Stan taking up space in the home that he invaded.
"But Pa", Stanley cackles "He doesn't have a room, remember. And he's not going to stay in ours."
Stan claws at his thighs to keep himself from doing something stupid like speaking out of turn or running away. He wants to go back to the beach where the faint memory of playing with Stanford still lingers, but if he runs away now then he won't be let in until he learned his lesson.
And Stan is terrible at learning.
Maybe Pa will order him to sleep in the hallway instead, or the shop. It would be better than outside where it isn't safe and where food is scarce and the water salty.
"You don't make money by looking soft, boy."
Stan rubs his eyes and straightens his back. His father won't get rid of him if he can still make him some money. He won't kick him out. Not completely.
He kept him for this long after all.
"Of course not, son. I'm sorry. I forgot" Father's voice is heartachingly soft. Stan makes sure to remember it well so he can replay it in his mind when everyone is asleep and unable to judge him for his tears or for the way he steals words that were never meant for him.
"Do you think this is funny, boy?"
Stan's eyes shoot up and he shakes his head fiercely. Did he mess up his expression somehow? Did he smile?
Did he laugh? Why did he laugh?
Why is Stan always so stupid?
"Who is ready for some cake?"
Mother's words break the tension and all at once his family turns away from him and goes back to celebrating. Stan's heart swells with gratefulness. There was always little he could do to stop a fight, not when his presence alone was enough to cause discomfort in people.
"I want the biggest piece, Ma!" Stanley demands when Stan's stomach starts growling and cramping up at the sight of the cake. He skipped dinner yesterday — Stanley had eaten his portion — and breakfast hadn't gone any better, not with his mother preparing the cake and taking calls at the same time, looking stressed enough as it was without Stan butting in and begging for food. He didn't want to bother her anymore than he had to, knowing full well that she avoided being alone with him has much as she could
One or two skipped meals weren't about to kill him, Stan had decided and left the house to give everyone some space. His brothers deserved a nice birthday after all.
"The cake is for everyone, sweetheart. We're splitting it equally."
"No. Give me the biggest piece. I don't care. I want the biggest one."
Stan wants to protest. Like his mother said. The cake is for everyone and he had been selfishly hoping for a decent sized piece to fill his stomach, but he suppresses the urge. It was not his place, and not his food. He'll be happy with any piece.
His stomach however begs to differ and cramps up again.
"Quiet." Stan mutters and holds it tightly to distract himself from the pain.
"Oh baby, you look like you're starving. Fine, you'll get the biggest piece. You're just skin and bones"
The cake is big and moist with a thick layer of blue and red frosting on top, one side for Stanford and one for Stanley.
Stan is salivating in anticipation.
After everyone has their piece — Stanley's being almost triple that of the others — Stan walks up to the table plate in hand. With every step, the weary glances send his way intensify.
It is a bad idea, asking for food while they're still eating, but if he waits as long as yesterday, there might be nothing left for him by the end of it.
"Can I have a piece as well? Please?" Stan holds out his plate, gripping the edges tightly to keep it steady. It's not in the best shape. The flowers that had once adored the porcelain were faded and cracked, moments away from breaking. Stan had found it in a pile of junk Father had told him to throw away, hoping no one else would mind that he kept the useless thing for himself. At least this way his family wouldn't be mad at Stan for using and soiling their good tableware with his hands.
Stan waits for an answer and is met with silence.
Stanley smirks, Mother frowns, Stanford rolls his eyes and Father looks disgusted and furious.
"You greedy thing."
"I'm sorry", Stan stammers. "I'm just hungry."
"We're wasting enough of our food on you as is and you demand more?"
"No, I-" Stan's stomach growls again and he flushes in shame.
"I don't want to share my cake with you." Stanley grins. "Eat your own cake tomorrow."
"Right, I…I wasn't thinking. Sorry."
No one stops him when he goes back to his place on the couch.
Well, it's not actually his place, but when no one is using the couch, they let him sit or sleep on it.
Stan wonders if he'll get anything for his birthday. A bed would be nice, but there's no space for one more in their home.
A chair then perhaps. One just for him that he can place at the table and maybe eat together with his family once in a while.
That would be a dream come true.
Yes, Stan decides.
If someone asks, Stan will wish for a chair.
He knows no one will.
✧˖°――♡――✧˖°
Stan watches from the window as his family leaves for a surprise birthday trip that night.
A weekend full of adventure!
There is no room for a fifth person in their car. There never has been. A bigger car would be too expensive and Stan had never been planned. He needs to be happy that he is allowed to stay with the Pines'. He needs to be grateful and stop this misplaced jealousy.
He was already given much more than he deserves.
The Pines' are laughing when they enter the car, the ever-present tenseness in their shoulders disappearing the moment Stan is out of their sight.
They're happy without him, Stan realizes and hates himself for it
Stanley turns around and waves at him, biting into the remaining birthday cake and laughing.
✧˖°――♡――✧˖°
"Then tell me what you are." Stanley sings and Stan chokes out his answer.
[holding back tears] The final song I wrote for Gravity Falls. It didn’t get used, but use your imagination!
Alex contacted me during production of Weirdmageddon Pt I because he wanted Bill Cipher to have a big musical number. I recorded the demo (with temporary lyrics, since I wasn’t sure what could be animated.)
It would’ve been fun to force Alex to sing this, but sadly it never got to that stage, as these things go. Here are the lyrics:
NEED👏THAT👏MAN👏PREGNANT *SEASON 2* GROUP ONE *FINALS
TUMBLR! Who's getting pregnant?
Stanley 'Stan' Pines (Gravity Falls)
Starscream (Transformers)
Voting ended onJun 27
*The winner of this matchup will represent their bracket in the inter-group finale poll(s).
PROPAGANDA:
[Stan]
"It would be funny if the twin of the winner won."
"He would be an amazing dad, even though at first he is gruff and a bit reckless, you can see as the series goes on, how deeply he loves and cares for the people closest to him, he would do anything for his family, and he would be the most dedicated dad out there."
"Gotta get both twins knocked up."
"why should Ford have all the fun? also Stan would be a WAY better dad than Ford."
"HED BE SUCH A SINGLE DAD I NEED HIM PREGNANT AND STRUGGLING WITH A BABY AND RAISING HER THE BEST HE CAN AND SOMETIMES FAILING BUT OVER ALL MAKING IT WORK I CAN PICTURE HIM USING HIS PREGNANT BELLY AS AN ICECREAM TABLE WHILE HE WATCHES DUCKTECTIVE AND PERIOD DRAMAS."
"He's the sexier more breedable brother to me but also I just think it'd be funny if he won the second time around since Ford won the first one :)"
Grunkle Stan propaganda from last season
[Starscream]
"He would be STRUTTING with it. He's gonna raise an ARMY of LOYAL UNDERLINGS and they're going to make him RULER OF THE UNIVERSE. also he would be fucking miserable and so so angry and i think that would be fun."
"I need need need my conniving flying bastard man to be pregnant, he'd be so insufferable about it. Can you imagine? TFP Starscream would use his pregnancy as a way to manipulate the autobots and pretend to "care so much about my precious baby" and then he'd stab everyone in the back. G1 Starscream would have a bunch of grand dreams of shaping his baby into the ultimate Megatron-killing weapon and then they rule the galaxy together."
"I need to see him manipulate someone into getting him pregnant only to abort it in an attempt to hurt them only to have no effect at all. I need this."
"He’s funny and endlessly miserable in most continuities and I think being pregnant would make him happy even if he complained about it at the time."
"LISTEN……. It would be funny as shit if all the time he tried to usurp Megatron he succeeded in the one thing he didn’t want and lost so disgracefully. And in some media interpretations having “kids” or pets mellows that fucked up prideful and very much traumatized abused but unwilling to admit it and look for help man."
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Testosteraur from Gravity Falls is canonically intersex, and his variation is Tetrasomy XYYY! During his only appearance in S1Ep6, he states "I have three Y chromosomes, six Adam's apples, pecs on my abs, and fists for nipples".
[VD: A Soos Mii and a Grunkle Stan Mii playing catch. Stan tosses the ball over to Soos, but it falls out of his glove. Soos then crouches down to pick up the ball, and throws it back to stan before waving his gloved hand. /End VD.]
I really should have been working on the chapter for my fic, but since this wouldn't leave my head, here's this. (I hope I did this right, I only just figured out what 'reblog' meant today).
Ford has been home for three days and he doesn’t understand. He didn’t think his brother would stoop to being this petty but the silent treatment? Absolute childish nonsense but he really shouldn’t have expected anything less from his twin. But, a small voice kept persisting, are you sure? Looking at his brother from across the table (Dipper and Mabel insisted he join them for breakfast) there was something niggling at the back of his mind.
One of the lamps flickered, somehow more illuminating than the July sun piercing through the windows. It was something that kept happening every time someone was at the door, or when the phone rang. Come to think of it, he really needed to ask Stanley what that strange looking typewriter was doing next to the phone.
“Probably Soos, be right back,” Stanley said. His voice was still as gruff as he remembered, but there was something off about it. The s’s they sounded…slurred. Ford wasn’t sure if he even said “soos” or “shush”.
“Hey dudes!” Soos said jovially, “and other Mr. Pines, how’s it going?”
“Morning Soos,” waved Dipper (though ‘wave’ couldn’t be right, he moved his arm in a forward pull towards himself with the back of his hand to Soos).
“Soos!! Are you joining us for the season finale of Ducktective this afternoon!? I’m making hats!” Ford could ignore the conversation, he just focused on his brother who was now reading the paper.
“Stanley,” he said, and lo and behold there was that silent treatment. “Stanley!” His raised voice stopped the conversation the children were having with Soos. Dipper slammed the table and only then did Stanley put away his paper. The boy didn’t even say anything, just pointed at Ford.
“Did’ja need somethin’ Poindexter?” There was that slur again, poindeshcer.
“Are you drunk? Or perhaps ill?” he amended at Stanley’s glare. His twin didn’t say anything, he turned to Soos and…did something with his hands, just waved them around and stormed off. The kids turned to Soos.
“He just needs a minute.”
“What did he say? I only caught that he said ‘manage’,” Dipper said.
“I saw ‘silly’!” Mabel added.
“He said ‘I’m not dealing with this nonsense’ and uuhhh a few other choice words. But hey looks like you dudes are getting better! Good job!” The twins high fived each other (a small part of him ached and remembers a sad voice calling out “high six?”)
“He didn’t say anything, he just waved his arms around,” Ford started in an exasperated tone.
“Other Mr. Pines,” Soos with an audacity Ford didn’t understand was glaring at him, “that’s a really rude thing to say about sign language.”
About…sign language? What on earth…? Clarity slams into him like a boulder. He’d never heard the children call out for Stanley, they flicked lights, stomped on the floor, or pulled on his sleeve. That slur in his voice…how long had Stanley been unable to hear himself?
“It was supposed to be me and you forever! You ruined my life!” he heard it then, shuposhduh. He remembers Stanley’s blank stare at him when he was dragging him to the basement. That he was constantly trying to get in front of him, even going as far as to physically grab him by the shoulders to get Ford to face him. He stares at the spot his brother was and a wave of horror washes over him.
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As someone who wears glasses, I will never not think about the problems caused by Stan's busted vision. Especially topped by his time on the streets.
He'd never be sure that the slightly shiny thing in his peripheral isn't a knife. He'd never not flinch from someone moving just a bit too fast for him. Any movement he isn't fully aware of could be a threat. And when his hearing starts to go too? Even after years in a stable house, that instinct never leaves him.
He flinches from Soos lifting a wrench a little too close to him, twitches away when he walks too quiet. (Soos always announces himself when he walks into a room now, and he picked up Stan's habit of singing a little song about what he's doing.) Braces himself if an irate customer raises their arm. Never turns his back on someone bigger or angrier than him.
He hates crowds because it's so easy for someone to jump him, and he'd never see them coming, never know their face. Silver watches and jewelry can make him jump, so he keeps gold. Has to wait for something or someone to get close enough to focus on, close enough to reach by hand, to make sure he doesn't miss. He's terrified of heights because he can't tell how high up he actually is, can't be sure that there's another step in front of him. At a certain point, he literally can't see the ground.
The twins are loud, bright and bold. He always knows when they're in the room with him, and it strangely puts him at ease knowing they'll only ever sneak up on him when they're trying to. They're little shits when it comes to pranks, but even those are usually just more noise or color.
But he despises when Ford returns because he moves like a predator. Even with boots, he's only heard when he wants to be, and he swings guns around too casually for Stan's liking. He acts too similar to people he used to run from. Stan already knows how easy it is for Ford to take him down. And where they currently stand with each other, every time he catches the glint of metal under Ford's coat, no matter what it may be, he's tensed and ready to run.
Ford with a psychotic disorder, unsure if the triangle he's talking to is even real or if his mind is just making it up in his desperation to make his research work out.
Ford with a psychotic disorder not exactly sure why he experiences hallucinations and delusions, never being properly diagnosed until later in life but already used to seeing strange things and hearing strange things that shouldn't exist wherever he goes.
Ford with a psychotic disorder asking Stan if something he's seeing that doesn't seem right is real or not and trusting that he is telling the truth every time and Stan never joking about it whenever he asks because the first and only time he did, it only made Ford too distressed to function.
Ford with a psychotic disorder, hiding Bill from everyone because he doesn't fully believe he's real himself at times and feels everyone will just tell him it's just a hallucination and he's not actually speaking to a higher power. becomes even more distressing post betrayal when he feels they would just invalidate his trauma by shoving his disorder back in his face and tell him it was just all a lie his mind thought up. a delusion, in other words.
Ford with a psychotic disorder that gets more symptomatic and unpleasant/annoying/confusing once Bill comes into his life. the very mechanic of Bill entering his mind only invites hallucinations to mimic Bill and make Ford believe he's being told things that Bill never actually told him. a tower of miscommunication happens between him and his Muse.
Ford with a psychotic disorder, where Bill's betrayal is so much more confusing than it should be. his own hallucinations get worse from his sleep deprivation and make it feel like Bill is torturing him even more than he actually is. Bill thinks it's funny and also useful. it means he doesn't have to be on Ford's case all the time and he can have breaks to think of plans to get to the portal in the meantime.
Ford with a psychotic disorder, seeing Bill everywhere in his travels through the multiverse and panicking until he realizes that it's just his hallucinations again. finds it hard to not react to them until he finally gets used to it years into his travels.
Ford with a psychotic disorder, still seeing his enemy in his vision post Weirdmageddon despite his death but as time goes on and his mind eventually finally accepts that bill is completely gone, his hallucinations move on to different things. the Bill ones still happen, but less frequently than they used to. Ford calls the Bill ones "the triangle rolling in his grave" as a way to cool his reactions to them when they happen and to ground himself in the reality that Bill is not alive anymore and cannot hurt him.
Ford with a psychotic disorder, being supported and loved by his family even when Ford feels he would freak them out if he told them about what he sees and hears and sometimes even feels that aren't real. Ford feeling the twins hugging him during a bad delusion or hallucination or both and finding their love enough to calm him down.
If you don't think Ford missed Stan at all, not even a little bit, during their ten year separation, he would have agreed with you, pre-Weirdmageddon.
No, of course he didn't miss Stanley at graduation, when they accidentally called out Stanley Caryn Pines after Stanford Filbrick Pines and he definitely didn't look for his brother to be walking across the stage, only to remember that Stan hadn't graduated, that Stan was gone. He didn't feel sick at the realization that that was it, that he wasn't coming back, and that things would never be how they had been again. Well, there was that saying about making and lying in beds. He didn't think about it.
He didn't miss Stanley at college, where most of the other students either completely ignored him or (on occasion) made fun of his hands. When he finally threw a punch at one classmate in particular, he didn't grin, waiting for a certain voice to call out "Get 'im, Sixer!" That hesitation was all it took for the bully's buddy to get a hit in, leaving him with a nasty shiner, but things got better, after that. He got a reputation as someone who wouldn't back down, who didn't need to hide behind someone else for his own shortcomings. It was... nice.
He didn't miss Stanley when he met Fiddleford, the only other person who understood him, who cared enough to want to understand him. He didn't slip up, either, saying "us" or "we" when talking about Glass Shard and the things he'd done as a child. He confessed to Fiddleford, eventually, after a long night of sharing smuggled beers in their dorm while studying for midterms, about having a twin whom he'd had a falling out with. Fiddleford had said he was sorry that had happened. Ford asked why, and didn't understand when he replied that it must be lonely. He wasn't lonely- he had Fiddleford. And himself.
He didn't miss Stanley when he moved to Gravity Falls, staring out at the giant forest, something he'd never seen in person before. He didn't laugh over his discovery of creatures beyond his imagination, looking to the side for someone to share in the wonders of discovery. He didn't step into a cave and call "Echo!" and wait for someone to yell it back. He didn't feel hollow inside, as hollow as the cave, when the only repitition was that of his own voice.
He didn't miss Stanley as he wrote in his Journals, sharing discoveries and adventures in the same style as he would if he were telling a cherished companion who was simply not present for it. He didn't miss practicing someone else's handwriting to cheat on homework or confuse their his parents. He didn't miss random doodles and sarcastic comments scribbled in the margins of his writing, evidence that someone else had read his thoughts and cared about them. About him.
He didn't miss Stanley when he met Bill. Why would he? He had a new Muse to do wonderful and important work for. He wouldn't have had time for Stan, even if he hadn't ruined everything. (Besides, if he wasn't paying attention, those comments of "Sixer" and jokes felt familiar, filling a void he never dared to acknowledge.)
He didn't miss Stanley when Fiddleford came to help him. He had another person in his cabin, and any potential loneliness he may have possibly been feeling disappeared. So what if Fiddleford's joke about them sharing bunk beds fell a little flat? He didn't know, it wasn't his fault. It wasn't his fault. It wasn't his-
He didn't miss Stanley when it all went to shit. He didn't miss the reassurance that someone was in his corner, he didn't miss the constant humming and tapping on things that would cover the incessant screaming in his mind, he didn't miss someone climbing into his bed after a nightmare to help ground him, he didn't miss the offer of a high-six, he didn't, he didn't, he didn't.
(It was only pure desperation that made him send for Stan. That was the only reason he would allow himself to acknowledge. Besides, he was being selfish even asking him to come- Bill would kill Stan if given the opportunity. Ford knew that. He would make it slow, in every way Ford knew Stan feared, because Bill had peeled back the layers of his mind, treading places even he hadn't set foot in since he was seventeen and closing a curtain. He couldn't let that happen- even to someone he didn't miss.)
Post-Weirdmageddon Ford would look you in the eye and tell you that twenty-eight year old him (and forty-year-old him, and fifty-eight-year old him) was full of shit, actually.
Okay, here's my late comic for Trans Day of Visibility. I hope whatever you did that day, you had a good day. Though if not, there's 364 other days you can choose to celebrate if you want.
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