As much as I lovelovelove Mystery Trio AUs- these three unhinged men should NEVER spend any amount of time together in their prime if you want any peace and quiet.
Someone merely mentions the ides of stealing *something* from a government facility? Stan's warming up the El Diablo that he's already taken the tags off; Ford somehow already has the blueprints to the building and Fiddleford has a handheld lock picking device that also knocks out the signal on surveillance cameras.
Ford finds it logical to use essentially chemical warfare on the guards they didn't know would be patrolling as he blows idk, fairy dust, in their faces. Stan notices that several of his personas' wanted posters are up in an office and he stuffs them in a paper shredder as they walk by not because he is embarrassed but because they weren't even good artist renditions of what he looked like. Fiddleford of course finds alien tech that the government officials are testing and pockets in, knowing it will come in handy for his next giant robot.
As they head back to the Shack Stan jokingly suggests knocking over a bank and Fiddleford nonchalantly says they don't need to, he built a printing press the other week. Ford nods, as if this is a completely reasonable response and Stan has never felt closer to his brother.
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Whenever you share a grain of information about evil Fiddleford in the ghost stans AU, he becomes the only thing I can think about for at least the next twelve hours /silly
I hope Emma-May spends all his money whenever and however she wants <3
he is a bastard sonuva bitch and weâre all shaking him around like a snow globe (there will be be more of him to come eventually I promise Iâm just slow đ )
Emma Mayâs busy donating to the local PBS station and guest starring on Arthur I mean who said that
*stares with stars in my eyes at whatever "Fiddlestan Next Summer" could be*
Hehe
This one was the newest one I've come up with an idea for, so sadly nothing to actually share besides the prompt.
But!
In short, the Sea Grunks are back in town after a year of sailing and they are visiting Northwest McGucket Manor and seeing what all Fidds has done to it/what bots he's built/ect.
At some point Fidds will notice that Stan is kinda being awkward and will send Ford off to explore the house on his own. He'll then ask Stan how recovery is going and Stan will kinda skirt around and test waters to see what Fidds remembers. Queue them talking about their past relationship and agreeing to give it another shot.
A Stan POV in the sequel may actually take me out (either sniper style or a date, who is to say)
Either way, I canât wait â¨
bro it's taking ME out đ he has love in his heart and he's hanging on by a fucking thread and he needs a fucking break so bad and he doesn't even KNOW it. ughhhh he's crawled into my chest cavity and he won't get out.
hey y'all! Here is a little sneak peek at my written piece for the @gfacrossthemultiversezine! I hope you enjoy my take on what I like to think happened behind the scenes in the dimension that canon Ford describes as "A Better World."
I am SO beyond excited for you to see so many amazing pieces from phenomenal artists and writers that I am lucky to be in the company of.
(I am especially excited for y'all to see my best pally @ryanishyperfixating 's fic art for my piece. He plugged in so many fun easter eggs :D)
Preorders go live June 15th! â Ë･â§
Make sure to add a note in your calendar so that you can join Stanford Pines on his journey acrosss the multiverse!
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Old man Fiddlestan, my beloved-and what's this? It could be semi-canon compliant :O ?!?!
Woof- this is one of the saddest things I have ever written. I know some of you gremlins (affectionate) love that sort of thing, but I don't. I like really really don't. This is my comfort ship, so I don't even know where this came from other than trying to figure out how they *could* work in canon. Truthfully though, I prefer my Fiddlestan heavy on the comfort when it comes to the "hurt/comfort" genre. This is my only âangstyâ (i.e. no immediate happy ending) Notes-app fics, so don't get used to this level of sad from me lol.
âStan?â an oddly familiar voice called. Mr. Mystery, Stan Pines, glanced up from the flyers he was organizing and found that Old Man McGucket stood in the doorway of his front door. The last tour of the day had just left, it was dinnertime, and he was exhausted. Stan rolled his eyes as he unfurled his tie, wishing Soos was still there to escort the crazy old man off his property. No matter what he did, the old hillbilly always managed to find his way back to the Shack. âSweet Moses McSuckit, what are you doing in here? Shoo, scat, or whateva will get rid of ya.â Hearing no movement, he looked at the man again and found he was standing erect. His blue eyes were the clearest he had seen them in no less than a decade.
         Wait, what did he call- oh. Oh no.
âStanâŚley? Did IâŚdid I do somethinâ wrong?â the other man asked, his hands twisted in knots in front of him. Memories flashed through Stanâs mind; Ford falling through the portal, Fiddleford finding him passed out in the lab, working together to bring Ford home againâŚbeing together. Being happy. They had been happy, if just for a little while, hadnât they?
Then there was the cult, and his discovery of the damn memory gun that had finally ruined everything they ever built. He took a hesitant step forward, a thousand thoughts roaring in his mind at once. âFidds? Wha-what do you remember?â A bandaged hand snaked up and rubbed over the faded scar on the side of his head âIâŚdonât rightly know. Did weâŚI think we had a fight? I just woke up in theâŚin the dump. Nâ I donât have any shoes. Do ya know why my arm is in a cast?â Fiddleford looked so lost.
Stan knew in his heart that all of this was fleeting- âclarityâ would hit Fiddleford every few years after he had finally wiped his mind of himself. Almost like his brain was trying to jumpstart itself back together. The first time they thought it was a miracle butâŚit didnât last. It just started a trend that would follow them both for the next almost thirty years. Fiddleford would seemingly âwake upâ and be lucid for a few weeks in the beginning, then eventually only a matter of days. It had been so long since the last time that Stan would wager, they only had maybe a few hours together if he was lucky.
The last time Fiddleford was himselfâŚthey had fought. Stanley thought he had figured the only way Fiddleford could stay; he needed to remember. Remember everything he had ever forgotten. At the time, Fiddleford had been unwilling to try. He didnât think he could handle it; he knew he had forgotten what he had for a reason.
Stanley had gotten as close to begging as he ever had in his life since surviving Tijuanna, and when it had no effectâŚStanley had told Fiddleford to leave and never come back. He had left that night, and by the next day he had faded away again. After a while, Stan thought his last words had been the final nail in the coffin that was Fiddlefordâs mind. He carried that weight along with every other mistake he had ever made. But here he was. Fiddleford. His Fiddleford.
He took a deep breath before he opened his arms up. âHey, donât worry, it doesnât matter. Iâm right here.â Fiddleford rushed through the doorway, melting into Stanleyâs open arms. âI went away again, didnât I?â Stan could feel Fiddlefordâs tears soaking into his chest, his own whispering at the edges of his eyes. Yes, and you will leave again. You will leave me and I will be alone all over again, you fucking asshole. âHey cowboy, didnât I just say not tâ worry about any aâ that? Youâre here now, n' thatâs what matters. YouâreâŚyouâre home.â A haggard laugh vibrated through the smaller manâs chest into Stanleyâs own. âI know I keep tellinâ ya, tellinâ me not tâ worry is likeâ ââŚtellinâ a fish tâ stop swimminâ; I know Fidds, I know.â Fuck was really the only conscious thought that went through his head as he held his one-time lover. He couldnât believe he was doing this, again.
Fiddleford looked up, eyes wide and searching Stanâs face. âHow long do ya think we have?â Stan shook his head, unwilling to lie even if it eventually wouldnât matter because he wouldnât remember. Youâve always been the only person I couldnât lie to. âI dunno, itâs beenâŚa while. Probably not very long.â Fiddleford closed his eyes before he said âI need ya tâ know somethinâ, Stanley.â Stan started to shake his head. âFidds, you donât have t-â The look on the other manâs face shut Stan right up-he had always had that ability. Stan wished he didnât miss it as much as he did. âI need ya to know that even when Iâm not hereâŚI miss you. The part of me thatâs somewhere in here-â A weathered hand tapped the side of his head to emphasize his point â misses you. Iâm just so sorry, Stanley. Sorry that Iâm a coward. Iâm sorry that Iâm not strong enough to be here all the timeâŚbut Iâll never stop tryinâ. Iâll always try nâ come home to ya.â
Stan thought of the thousands of times he had chased Old Man McGucket, the neat little character that Stan had to compartmentalize his Fiddleford into when he wasnât himself, out of the Shack. How many times he had found him curled up like a cat on the back porch. How every time they âmetâ, McGucket would say how nice Stan was or how good he felt to be around him âfor some reason.â How many odds and ends McGucket would gift Stan from the dump for exhibits at the Mystery Shack with a large smile and nothing substantial behind his eyes.
It would be so much easier if he would stop trying to come back. Maybe the hole in Stanâs heart the size of the sweet, certifiably insane man would scab over. How many times had Stanley mourned him? How many times was he willing to hurt himself? They were now nearing their sixties, how long was he really willing to do this song and dance?
Whatâs one more time? he softly thought, his hand coming up to tenderly cup the grizzled face of Fiddleford Hadron McGucket. Mad scientist, friend, and unfortunately for them bothâŚthe love of his life.
