estelleuse

Latest Posts by estelleuse

How the Winter Soldier shot Nick Fury

I’ve been wanting to make a post about this for a while, even though I might be the only person invested in this, but anyway, here we go. I’ve seen mentioned several times, in posts about the movie and in fics that the Winter Soldier shot Nick Fury through the window of Steve’s apartment, and every time it makes me groan in frustration because no.

The Winter Soldier didn’t shoot Fury through a window, he shot him through a wall, and I don’t know about you, but it seems like a pretty big difference to me.

(bullet hole in the wall!!)

When I saw the scene the first time, I remember thinking holy shit??? that’s crazy, and for me that’s when the Winter Soldier really became a real, terrifyingly good assassin, that’s when his image as a serious threat solidified.

Read about the blogger getting carried away under the read more.

Keep reading

OK but the fact that Henry’s name literally means The Self Killer. that he makes his life’s work splitting the self into two, implicitly killing the original. and then he succeeds in doing that to himself. and then he indirectly kills one of his selves. and then the remaining self commits suicide. The Self Killer.

Thinking about how Jekyll keeps a picture of his father on his desk, then proceeds to mention how "Hyde" had destroyed it when confined to his office 🤨

Do you get it now? Without due process, everyone is at risk. How are you going to prove your citizenship otherwise?

and a heartbreakingly sad one for my pals

Why does the GF fandom seem to hate on Ford for being abused and manipulated by Bill more than they hate on the abuser (Bill) himself...

and what if I said Jekyll and Hyde isn’t about splitting yourself in two but about stretching yourself so thin you barely are a person anymore

It's so funny to me when people criticize Light Yagami for using heart attacks as his modus operandi and not randomizing the deaths 'cause it just shows that they have no idea what Light aims to achieve in doing that

It’s very late so I’m a bit delirious, but I feel like both the musical, and just ignoring details in Jekyll and Hyde have really dumbed down just how HIGH society Dr Jekyll is. He literally has an account at COUTTS (a detail which I didn’t notice until many re-reads lowk), but also the fact that he was friends with Utterson and shared him as a lawyer with a member of parliament…like! Not to mention his calculated worth and then kinda basic, but Enfield knows of him without knowing him personally despite utterson being besties w Jekyll which is also a bit crazy…

Idk I fink too many adaptations js say “respectable” and leave it at that w out saying just how much so…

It's just. Edward Hyde is an incredibly violent person with no sense of shame or morals or limits, but he still is polite enough to have breakfast at your home and be an unremarkable guest. He's a soft-spoken young man with good taste and nerves of steel and a crazed homicidal maniac getting hard over turning a defenseless old man into an unrecognizable pile of offal. He's a monster in every sense of the word and yet he perfectly blends into the crowd and can afford to be called a gentleman. Do you see it.

In the original novella, we only "see" three characters die. One is Hastie Lanyon, whose death isn't gruesome and startling like Carew's, but that meets an arguably violent end.

While Carew draws the ire of Hyde through simply being at the wrong place at the wrong time, being cordial to the wrong person, being, Lanyon rather doesn't. Instead, it is his act of loyalty towards Jekyll, the man he hasn't talked to in a decade and calls him a pedant when he isn't listening, what kills him. Once again good deeds are punished with death. The difference, though, doesn't just reside in the fact that Hyde never once needs to put a finger on Lanyon to kill him, but the fact that it is a deeply personal loss- on both sides.

Jekyll-as-Hyde correctly assesses that Lanyon will help a friend in need. He himself says that Lanyon would gladly sacrifice his right arm to save him in body and mind, and with those words he convinces him to come to the rescue via bringing Hyde the serum's ingredients from the cabinet, now forbidden to him. And Lanyon is a good man. He's sensible enough to bring a gun with himself, he's kind enough to help Jekyll even though he believes he's finally lost it -and he's not entirely wrong-, and he's open-minded enough to not only chalk up his supernatural hatred of Hyde to a silly personal bias rather than dismiss him as "deformed", but to also fight against it and be nice to him.

No, Lanyon doesn't meet his violent end through physical violence. All he does is fall into Hyde's trap and give in to curiosity. And that's how, in his narration, Chapter 9, we learn what really killed him in Chapter 6, weeks after the events transpired. His mysterious "disease", the thing eating up at him, is the revelation. One of his closest friends -despite it all- has placed his trust upon him, and his reward is to see him at his pettiest, his cruelest, his worst. To learn that his friend was a monster, all along. No. That he turned into one, on his own volition. The choice was his. And now that he's realized it was a dark path to walk, he can't un-walk it. He can't stop, even if he wanted to, cursing himself with a monstrousness that fights back at any attempt at a fix and yet needs to be fixed to save its skin.

There is no "normal" to recover. Jekyll had always carried with him the elements of his destruction- his arrogance and his bile. The revelation that Hyde never really existed destroys Lanyon's static and material worldview, smashing the orderly world he lives in to bits. The revelation that Hyde was created for a specific purpose, and what it was, destroys Lanyon's view of Jekyll as an eccentric but harmless man, a good person with misguided opinions and fanciful theories.

Does Jekyll ever learn of Lanyon's death? Does Utterson ever bring it up behind the scenes, out of the third-person narrator's scope? Will he ever know that his last crime was killing the man that saved his life?

Well... Ironically, Lanyon didn't really save Jekyll's life. He only extended it for a couple of months, prevented Hyde from being arrested and tried and executed for God knows how many crimes of indeterminate nature. After all, if his criminal record killed him of shock, or at least poured salt into the wound, it had to be gruesome. Thanks to Lanyon's intervention Hyde can return to the house as Jekyll and attempt at resuming a normal life, without success. Soon enough he transforms again, and runs out of salts, and is found dead on the floor with the vial he just emptied of cyanide still in his cold hand.

How do we define violence in a world in which body and mind are one? In the world of Jekyll and Hyde, thoughts and ideas are physical, real, tangible. Hyde is, ultimately, a concept, the sketch of a person disguising a fractured mind disguising a sad mad genius that desires to not desire. We can consider Lanyon one of Hyde's victims, but can we call Lanyon's death violent? I would say so. Like Carew, all he ever did, at least within the constraints of the story -a snapshot of a disjointed Gothic world-, was being kind to someone who didn't deserve it.

At the beginning of this post, I said there were three on-page deaths, three deaths we got to "see" in Stevenson's novella. The third death would be Jekyll's. And it is violent, as well- first his original identity dies, unable to be present, made physical, made real, by want of not being able to manifest itself, or rather, by want of not being able to not manifest Hyde's. In a sense, he's run out of opportunities to be "good". If Jekyll can no longer be Jekyll-as-Jekyll, and only has Jekyll-as-Hyde left, Jekyll no longer exists. As he puts it, he's forced to resume Hyde's personality for the last time- to put on a costume that has turned into himself. Hyde never existed as a person, and in the last eight days of his life he has to be, because Hyde is all he's got left of a person.

It's impossible to not think of a suicide, even a suicide by poison, as violent. But Jekyll's death is violent not just because he eventually goes through with his "promise" of sorts that he'll have to die to rid the world of Hyde (and so we have Hyde killing himself if only to not end up in the gallows, fullfilling his ultimate desire, because that's what he, as a concept, was designed to do). It is also violent because by the time he physically dies, he's long gone. He's committed enough violence against himself already, destroying his belongings and thinking of himself as either his oppressive father or his idiot son, depending on what body he's been thrown into at the time.

The horror of Jekyll and Hyde is the horror of the perversion of the intimate, on all levels. Your best friend is not who he claimed to be. Your body as an extension of yourself isn't to be trusted. Helping others gets you killed. Edward Hyde pollutes everything he touches- breaks into a homicidal rage at someone being polite at him, accidentally curses his savior with the decay of the soul, self harms in the most twisted way possible and dies two times, brings the worst in all those that look at him, brings terror into your house, ruins the night, and breaks the peace.

It is only logical that something -someone?- that ruins everything to its very core comes from within, and is ultimately the cause for three very twisted, and violent, forms of death.

one of my favourite aspects of jekyll & hyde is the state of the room when utterson and poole have broken down the door. it's the incongruous tidiness, the peacefulness and cosiness of the room despite the fact that - as we learn - jekyll/hyde has spent all his final days in there weeping, pacing, knowing himself to be all but doomed. it's almost like another element of the horror - it would make sense and would match utterson's expectations if it were in greater disarray (broken glass, etc) but instead we get the implication that if it was the end, at least jekyll/hyde decided it would be with dignity, with the kinds of final comforts he was so accustomed to. utterson's very first impression when he comes into the room is how pleasant and neat it is, and only then he sees the body. all that normalcy and in the middle of the room, the dead body. im losing my mind a little bit

ID check at the bank

you are edward hyde, seated at the right hand of [the father]. made in the image and likeness of [god]. you could have been an angel, but goodness is not a thing you know. that’s not your fault. that was something you were stripped of, or, something stripped away from [god] when he tore himself to shreds to make you. you are a shred. you are pumped full of original sin and you hate and you hate and you hate and you hate. [god] hates you. he hates himself. goodness is not a thing to take for granted. likeness can only make you so whole. you are edward hyde. you are not good, and you will never be whole

🦋👁️

Why Stanford Pines from Gravity Falls is Autistic, and Why It Matters

Here’s a meta I consider long overdue; the title says it all. I’ve analyzed Ford and why he resonates with me for over three years and casually lived in his head close to that magic number, six, but I’ve never addressed this fundamental reason. I’m not the only one who reads Ford as autistic, so I figured we deserve a lengthy manifesto. Now more than ever, we need stories of unconditional acceptance instead of voyeuristic awareness; April is the cruelest month.

Normally this is where I’d disclaim I’m no medical professional, but I don’t feel like enforcing normalcy. Autistic people are foremost experts on our own experience, and we don’t need analyses this extensive for permission to see ourselves in fictional characters. This analysis is also not concerned with authorial intent; in fiction as in reality, we’re here whether you want us or not.

I’ve divided this meta between various criteria Ford meets. Overly long post incoming, press j to pay respects.

Motor control issues

Let’s start tenuously before getting into weightier evidence - why suggest that a character who runs and jumps well into his sixties may have motor control issues? Because they can improve with practice, and Ford is markedly unathletic early in life. He’s introduced stumbling from trying to un-board the cave and insisting “I can keep up!” (dogear that). Factor in his D- in gym and the way he reads during boxing lessons intended to protect both boys from bullies, and it seems that Ford only became physically adept when forced to fend for himself without Stan.

Eye contact

Ford frequently averts eye contact during tense moments, which admittedly could indicate typical fraught emotions as much as a breakdown of performance. His deathglare toward Stan and intense gaze talking to Dipper could more strongly indicate that he makes eye contact consciously and counterintuitively, because he sees it as an assertion of power (hence his discomfort under Bill’s gaze). Ford’s shifty eyes post-betrayal, signature surprised owlface, thousand-yard stare thinking of “the dark weird road [he travels]”, and unchanging expression as he hugs Fiddleford and doesn’t register Stan are additional animation tics implying he breaks eye contact easily.

Physical contact

Ford seems to have a complicated relationship with touch like many autistic people. He easily startles at Stan unexpectedly touching his shoulder (as kids, first reunion) or grabbing him (Fearamid fight, end credits). Touch aversion may explain his visceral reaction to Bill violating his personal space with mock affection.

Ford appears more comfortable initiating than receiving touch, especially arms’-length nudges and shoulder touches; the kids’ surprise at his adorable tackle-hug suggests it’s uncharacteristic. He also expects a handshake when Fiddleford goes in for a hug, misreading his body language and cue to “come here.”

Stimming

The animation emphasizes Ford’s hands in all their six-fingered glory, giving him unique repetitive mannerisms that can be interpreted as stimming. These include rapping his fingers nervously over the journal (“The Last Mabelcorn”), rolling the DD&MD die, twirling his gun, and wiggling his fingers (narrating DD&MD, taunting Bill).

Pressure stimming could explain why Ford wears heavy clothes throughout his life. This comes to represent his guardedness, as he wears the fewest layers while content with Stan and Gravity Falls and the most while trusting no one, but it may have literally resulted from PTSD compounding his stimming so that he only feels safe weighted down. In the end he keeps the sweater, unburdened but still holding to that feeling of security. Likewise, Ford’s pattern of puffing his chest (especially in danger) may be a pressure stim to anchor himself, holding back the fear and weightlessness he feels inside.

Comfort objects

Ford has saved his coat and childhood photo of himself and Stan for over 30 years, suggesting a grounding attachment to them. He clearly shows a more-than-professional attachment to his journals, embracing his hands -his identity- through them even literally as he sleeps holding one to his heart (just as Bill starts toying with it). Writing in the journals is Ford’s coping mechanism when “I’m not sure I am who I am” and “I JUST DON’T KNOW ANYMORE”. That panicked “you don’t understand!” is putting it lightly.

Sensory issues

Ford has a pattern of shielding his ears in stressful situations: Bill whispering in his mind, his pre-fight argument with Stan, his nightmares, and his confrontation with Dipper. (“Everyone, plug your ears!” he demonstrates despite knowing the memory gun won’t affect him.) In addition to blocking noise under stress, his hands apparently ground him by clutching his coat, journal, and (during Stan’s amnesia) his neck and wrists stigmatized by the chains.

Contrast Ford fnord playing Bavarian Fire Drill with the agents and his dumbfounded response to the kids crowding him, and it’s clear he gets overwhelmed under pressure; Stan may have steered attention away from him for Ford’s comfort as much as his own. At the kids’ birthday we see that Ford has practice slipping out of crowds, literally relying on Stan for support when all eyes are on him.

Conversely, Ford shares many autistic people’s unusual tolerances or otherwise has difficulty communicating discomfort. Based on “cycloptopus roll” in the journal, Ford has no problem eating something Stan says “smells like if death could barf”. He tolerates heat when shaving with fire and wearing heavy clothes all the time (possibly to prevent sensory overload, as it’s always the same sweater unlike Mabel). Ford also shows only momentary discomfort being shot, knocked unconscious, crushed under rubble, chained, and electrocuted, which… same? “Stop thinking” and “focus on your intellect and control your fear” are exactly the self-regulation measures we develop to tolerate sensory overload.

Executive dysfunction

Autistic people often experience executive dysfunction due to our singlemindedness toward goals, which Ford exhibits in spades. He jumps into major decisions (sending Stan away both times, apprenticeship, quantum destabilizer) without thinking of setbacks or long-term consequences and resists changing plans (frustration at research roadblocks, inability to adjust opinions of Stan). His aggrieved “we just need to lay low and think of a plan” reflects a conscious difficulty with planning that negates his mental health.

Ford evidently subordinates his needs in pursuing goals, his rooms a mess in 1982 and 2012 as he wears out and sleeps in clothes desperately projecting his academic identity. Lighting his face on fire because “it’s much faster than shaving” resembles flawed shortcuts we use to maintain hygiene against executive dysfunction.

Meltdowns

Ford’s paranoid breakdown shows signs of involving meltdowns. In addition to his defensive body language, when Stan applies pressure Ford suddenly loses all patience, filter, and ability to articulate what “you don’t understand” (his suffering, what the journal means to him). Meltdowns stem from pain, and he’s “up against [and has] been through” more than enough.

I’ve seen Ford’s confrontation of Dipper interpreted as a panic attack before, and I think it can also read as a meltdown. First we see Ford’s spiraling mile-a-minute thoughts (while asleep), then he’s urgently demanding the rift and yelling defensively (“I was gonna say please, kid!”) -exactly how it feels when the walls close in and our words fall away. In appealing to Dipper’s rationality, Ford talks them both down.

Ford has also hurt himself under stress, punching the blackboard and his head (while cursing his metal plate in the finale).

Difficulty reading social cues

“I haven’t been in this dimension for a really long time” = Ford’s A+ excuse for not knowing if it’s “still” normal for kids to say “greetings” or have weapons, when ironically it never was. He also thinks mind control can be used “responsibly”, presumably with consent as Bill normalized to him before.

For all of Ford’s insecurities about how people perceive him, he’s often oblivious to it. He doesn’t register Dipper’s unease at him shaving with fire, being unsure the aliens are dead, or jumping with the magnet gun. He brushes off Stan saying “he’s lost his mind”, then meets his demands for thanks with a blunt “what?” -for once more confused than angry. Based on his awkward laughter before a girl throws punch on him at prom, it seems Ford’s lack of social skills contributed to his difficulty making friends growing up.

Empathy

Autistic people often experience unusually high or low empathy, even fluctuating between both; Ford evidently lacks and/or suppresses empathy in his fight with Stan, the person closest to him. Without intending harm he jumps to conclusions and won’t hear Stan’s side, thinks tactlessly appealing to their sailing dream or giving Stan until the end of the summer will incentivize him leaving, and does not realize Stan is homeless until called on it. Ford often displays the autistic tendency to speak without a filter - he’s right that codependency stifles individuality, but calling it “suffocating”? Blunt as a left-hook. Perhaps Bill ensnared him promising a relationship of shared interests where he’d sooner decode ciphers than emotions.

There’s a case for Ford being hyperempathetic with difficulty expressing it. He makes half-steps toward reconciliation that only anger Stan more: offering to share his fun with DD&MD, fixing the lightbulb, giving Dipper the mind control tie to help Stan win the election. One standout response is his sincere laughter at Stan’s “my brain isn’t good for anything”: he knows the feeling, but it sounds absurd coming from a socially adept person he values, so he affirms Stan’s worth by intuitively treating this statement like the joke it is.

Whether sympathy or empathy, Ford’s care for others shines through his concerted effort to seem aloof and cut them off. He repeats “I’m sorry Fiddleford” in his mind nonstop, his tale recounting the insensitive things he said but not how he desperately held Fiddleford in the unfiltered later flashback. He relates to Dipper’s interests, insecurities, and drive enough to hastily propose “a dream come true”. He knows exactly how to reassure Mabel without even knowing how the unicorns affected her, thinking she’ll be fine alone because her “magnetic personality” ranges beyond his weirdness magnetism.

Above all, Ford shows uncommon agape toward anomalies and all mankind. Even after their falling-out, Fiddleford affirms that Ford only wanted to help a world so often unkind to him.

Language

Ford displays many autistic speech patterns, such as declarative statements and an odd mix of formal and colloquial speech (“not with a bang but with a… boop-boop”, “the symbols needn’t all be literal, Dipper. It just has to be someone cool in the face of danger”). We often suspend the point of sentences with context for fear of misunderstanding, sometimes creating more (“when fighting a Gremloblin, use water”, anyone?) Ford shares our related tendency to get overly precise, second-guessing the correctness of everything he says (“or you could just roll an eight”, “floppy disks, and 8-tracks… right?”, “sometimes the strangest things in the world are right under our noses… and our feet, in this particular instance”). In the last example, Ford mixes his metaphor by understanding it better literally.

Ford has a sense of humor familiar to many autistic people, which includes indulging humor to himself (in the journals) instead of strictly sharing it. He shares our penchant for puns (“he’s gourd-geous!”, “one giant headache!”) and double meanings (“someone cool”, “the most peculiar dream”). Ford characteristically makes deadpan remarks (“just going to ignore that”, “so this is an emergency”, “I did mention that the fate of the universe is at stake, didn’t I?”, “NLOO PH SOHDVH”) but draws the line at mockery (“he doesn’t make fun of me all the time the way you and Grunkle Stan do”) - many of us concur, for hyperempathy or knowing how it feels.

He also invents his own secret languages… nuff said.

Infodumping

Does a whole book of exposition count? “Lost prehistoric life forms!” and “Mesoamerican gold!” and “Pirate ghosts!” are the words of a child with no filter about sharing everything interesting he’s read, and the journals are punctuated with equal enthusiasm. Then there’s his “cutting-edge programs and multi-dimensional paradigm theory!” ramble, DD&MD and magnet gun facts, and hostile takeover of Stan’s role as exposition fairy; Mabel’s unicorn hair quest only happens because Ford goes on a tangent about it.

Infodumping is also the only sensible explanation for why Ford mentions the barrier equation. Besides self-endangerment. Bill got under Ford’s skin not by promising power, but regression to a friendship where he felt safe sharing what he loved.

Literal/logical thinking

Ford emphatically takes things at face value. He feels compelled to defensively answer absurd questions like “Is there an owl in this bag?” and “The world’s most confusing game of hopscotch?” Ford is earnest to a fault, walking into Stan’s conversational traps by nerding out about what he loves; like many autistic people, he instinctively says what he means and assumes everyone else works the same way. This makes him terrible at subterfuge: barely tricking the agents under amnesia, blurting out acknowledgment of the kids and barrier equation to Bill, and delivering a stilted “don’t do it, Ford, it’ll destroy the universe!” as “Stan” (who plays him much more convincingly after 30 years’ practice). Correcting Stan’s grammar to get back at him, Ford cannot tolerate incorrectness in language or behavior.

Logical thinking leads Ford to black-and-white views of people and situations - most self-destructively, “TRUST NO ONE”. He assumes malice due to difficulty factoring in others’ emotions or miscommunication. “You did this because you couldn’t handle me going to college on my own!″ is a logical statement based on true premises, but assumes that Stan acted rationally to sabotage Ford. Stan tactlessly making it about their sailing dream instead of apologizing only solidifies it. Growing up with someone who means well but can’t say what he means, and no frame of reference for friendship outside codependency, it’s no wonder “a being with answers” worms his way into Ford’s mind and poisons it.

If you’ve followed these autistic heuristics thus far, that brings us to…

Special interests (or, why Ford’s autistic narrative matters)

First, honorable mention to Dungeons, Dungeons, & More Dungeons: after 30 years away he drops world-saving work to play it, quotes it from memory, and shares encyclopedic knowledge (“Prime-statistical anomalies over 37 but not exceeding 51!”, “The Impossibeast! Hey, I thought they banned this character!”)

And of course, mocking its fantastical monetary system!!! is a hatecrime unto his soul. (“At least I’m not all keyed up to watch a kids’ show”, he says with no qualms enjoying “Giggle Time Bouncy Boots” and other “childish” things; the threat of infantilization is real so he projects it back.)

Now, the big one: Ford’s singular, intense interest in anomalies drives the development of his career, art, and very identity.

“As if his abnormally high IQ wasn’t enough, he also had a rare birth defect: six fingers on each hand. Which might have explained his obsession with sci-fi mystery weirdness.” I have argued that Ford’s ostracism cannot solely explain his patterns of abnormal behavior; now I propose that Ford’s autism and polydactyly are twin anomalies defining his central arc of alienation and belonging. Both constitute an experience unrelatable beyond reference to his peers, beyond words except those he’s internalized as their self-narrating zoo exhibit: “I am a freak.” But when Ford’s mirroring of Stan breaks down, when he accepts he can’t be normal and embraces it, finding a place “where weirdos like me fit in” lights up his eyes and world.

His light only falters knowing that indeed, “his abnormally high IQ wasn’t enough” for most of the world. Like many autistic people, Ford is labeled “gifted”: a state where his passion becomes “our ticket out of this dump”, “I worked so hard!” a basis for worth. “In a place like that, I had to work twice as hard” hits different for all of us who’ve had to be the perfect savant to justify our existence. We get to thinking that we have to save the world, that if people mistreat us it’s because we didn’t perform enough exceptionalism to deserve better. But if someone is dedicated to dehumanizing you, trying to prove them wrong means absorbing the idea they could be right.

It’s in this state that Ford absorbs Bill and vice versa. Bill repeats what everyone says about Ford’s intelligence, but without making him “earn” it until enough frog-boiling that “smart guy” or “IQ” become his identity - for Bill to give as easily as take away. Bill exploits Ford’s need for companionship he shouldn’t have to “earn”, then insidiously reinforces the idea he does. And Bill betrays Ford, Bill abuses Ford, Bill others Ford through the interests he pretended to support, Bill causes Ford to trust no one because Ford can see him in everyone. Autistic people know this demon well, whether it’s a person or our internalizing voice or both, but it’s as inexplicable to the allistic world as the quiet violence we endure every day - voiceless yet present as the journal’s disappearing ink.

Ford’s consuming need for people to be what they seem and say what they mean culminates in the dramatic irony that he doesn’t hear Stan (never what he seems) say “I didn’t mean it!” Instead he only hears “it”, one of the worst things an autistic person can hear: he’s not the brother Stan wanted him to be and his “dumb mysteries” -his identity- prevent him from loving his family correctly. For him and so many of us, these are the last words before abjection into nothing.

…until they aren’t. Until Ford returns, driven underground but emerging when Dipper shares his light. Until the dramatic irony that Ford blaming himself for Bill’s abuse and lamenting how “easy” it was absolves him to both characters and audience, who see it for the injustice it is. Until his abuser’s final threat is to violate his mind and weirdness magnetism with it (sound familiar?) and Ford heroically guards both. Until Ford and Stan can finally step into each other’s shoes, finally validate unacknowledged experiences of abuse. That’s when Ford regains trust - when Stan’s actions speak louder than words (from him or his dark mirror, Bill) and Ford finally hears he’s worthy of love without having to give any part of himself in return.

Most importantly: Ford only embraces his special interest, only advocates acceptance of his difference with more dignity as he asks Stan for a second chance they both know he deserves. Ford doesn’t have to change who he is and the narrative rewards him for it. He doesn’t have to be “grateful” as if his life’s worth is a debt; any notion that he “owes” his gifts to anyone burns with the journals. He doesn’t have to fight back even when it seems impossible and do those things the world said he never could (but damn he delivers anyway). He only has to realize he can’t and doesn’t have to expect perfection from anyone, most of all himself, to find belonging.

The Mystery in the Mystery Shack is not a puzzle to be solved. He’s a complexity of infinite sides and infinite outcomes. This reading of his story matters because we matter; his narrative speaks to an unspoken desperation and self-actualization we know ineffably. Like any marginalized group, autistic people deserve better than abjection or exploitation or conditional acceptance based on “respectability” or what we can do for others. We deserve to reclaim the stories where we see the patterns of our lives - whether in the text’s words or 3k of our own. Until the rest of the world does its part in changing for us, we’ll carve out our own belonging wherever weirdness magnetism draws us; we’ll find our own Gravity Falls.

Pines Family + The Four Loves

Here’s to ten years of weird!

“To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly be broken.”  — C.S. Lewis, The Four Loves

Seeing the tags "Ford Pines Is A Jerk" and "Bill Cipher Needs A Hug" in the same fic will never not be funny

I love how there were (and are -_- ) ppl who interpret(ed) Stanford’s eagerness to sacrifice himself as him just wanting to Play the Hero™ like lmfao of course, bc that’s what someone with a lot of pride who wants the glory of being a savoir would do, be ready to lay down their life for everyone around them (and I do mean everyone, even fucking total strangers) at any given moment. Where they wouldn’t be able to enjoy any of the glory. Bc they’d be fucking dead. Ok. He’s not death seeking or being reckless with his own wellbeing for any other reason whatsoever, I’m sure.

Can we get into more Real Talk about Ford's low self-esteem, please?

He’s just

…

His automatic assumption is that everyone hates him.

His default method of making friends is trying his damnedest to impress them while simultaneously revealing little to no information about himself.

Because “trust no one” is just another way of saying “no one cares about you” (remember Dipper’s monologue at the end of episode 1? About how he was going to keep trusting Mabel because she cared about him?)

Because the poor kid got relentlessly bullied any time he tried to express himself or talk about his interests. (Remember show and tell? Remember Cathy Crenshaw?)

Because he’d rather disappear off the face of the fucking earth than deal with another betrayal, because the people he picks to be his friends always betray him and why wouldn’t they?

Because (@kryptonite-tie and I were just talking about this too) it’s so fucking easy to get on Ford’s good side but once you’ve Hurt Him then it’s nearly impossible to get away from his bad side because he immediately puts up walls because he doesn’t want to get hurt again

And yeah that’s not the healthiest way to go about things, and led to a lot of misunderstandings and a lot of unhealthy arguments between good friends (Stanley and Fiddleford, most notably) and led to a lot of grudge holding (Stan and Bill, most notably) but it’s kept him in some bizarre state of ‘safe’ and he can’t stop?

All Jheselbraum had to do was save Ford’s life and this earned her Ford calling her “the opposite of Bill”

All Dipper had to do was play a board game to become Ford’s friend. And Ford seriously doubted that Dipper would be at all understanding or kind if he told him about Bill.

And Bill?

All Bill had to do was show up and fucking say he was Ford’s friend.

I’m convinced that the reason Ford didn’t spend a whole lot of time with Mabel? Was because he thought she was too cool for him. Like, he thinks she’s way out of his friend league. He witnessed her becoming pen pals with a pizza delivery guy in 60 seconds, he knows she has multiple friends and has had multiple boyfriends at an age where Ford was still getting rocks thrown at his head and pelted with footballs. To Ford, Mabel is cooler than cool and couldn’t possibly want to spend time with him, of all people. And what he doesn’t realize is that Mabel doesn’t operate that way, of course she wants to spend time with him.

He is ready for death at all times and seems incapable of comprehending the idea that people might actually care about him with no ulterior motives whatsoever.

It takes him so damn long to realize that. He’s flabbergasted when Fiddleford forgives him, he’s awestruck when Dipper relates with him and continues to view him as a role model after learning the truth, he practically worships Jheselbraum, and Stan? By the finale, Stan is Ford’s entire world.

Cause it’s easy for people to make friends with Ford. It’s hard to keep his trust, and it’s hard to earn his forgiveness if he feels you’ve legitimately wronged him.

And he assumes that everyone else works the same way.

Like, he’s really forgiving of minor mistakes. He never blames people for shit that’s not their fault, or that he doesn’t think is their fault.

But if it is/if he does think it’s their fault? Good fucking luck mate.

And cause he views himself as a freak? He’s already made his Mistake. He doesn’t get another. He’s out of chances. So he tries desperately to make up for it by being perfect, a standard he holds literally no one else to.

(I think this might have started the rift between Ford and Stan: in ford’s mind, stan gets to make mistakes that he can’t. gets to make choices that he can’t. Stan can go with the flow, Ford has to run his decisions goals and dreams through a million filters before he makes them. He has to justify every action, for everything from stealing radioactive waste to getting to know his new family members we all know the ‘testing for portal radiation’ thing was a ruse so Ford could get to know the kids and soos. otherwise he would have done stan too. right down to whether or not he can take classes he actually enjoys in college, because he might have needed another one laterthat line in the journal where Ford berated himself for treating himself to an extra applied quantum phase theory instead of hyper advanced engineering and fifth dimensional calculus doesn’t sound like academic arrogance to me. it sounds like hell. it sounds like he’s punishing himself for doing something nice for himself. Not only that, but Ford ‘treating himself’ to such a class is the closest thing to self care we’ve yet to see from Ford what Ford doesn’t realize is that while Stan might not have to rationalize everything, he’s in the same boat, but his philosophy is different. His philosophy is Why try when everyone’s just going to say you’re not good enough. this is also counteracted by love from his family but that’s for another post.)

What Ford Pines Meant to Me.

I think it’s about time to explain why Stanford Pines is my favorite Gravity Falls character. I’ve reblogged whatever good meta I could find on him in the past, but none really got at my main thoughts: the best part of the show is its rich subtext about the realities that kids’ shows don’t acknowledge directly, both terrible and beautiful, and this character encapsulates that perfectly.

Let’s backtrack: Gravity Falls is a kids’ show that adults appreciate for audacious humor (and horror), emotional moments, character building, and foreshadowing that fully utilizes the Law of Conservation of Detail. It brings many of us back to childhood -from idyllic blue sky to irreverent laughter, with just a fleeting glimpse of the truly marvelous. We can catch that glimpse in the cryptograms, mystery aesthetics, color scheme, musical score, backgrounds…

…and Ford, the subject of this post. This character started as a bombshell reveal that made us reevaluate everything, quickly established himself as adorkable, badass, and morally complex… that’s pretty nifty, I would say, but I’ve established he’s also my favorite for reasons more extra than those. So here’s my unsanctioned, unsanitized, unmutilated opinion on why this character is resonant and cathartic to me, personally. Read it or don’t.

Fantasy elements don’t deter thinking viewers from connecting with stories; we either unveil essentially true-to-life stories underneath or admit the story suffers from a lack of substance. So I cannot overstate that, circumstances aside, Ford presents a more realistic (and visceral, and played-straight) depiction of trauma than I ever expected to see from a kids’ show.

Ford spirals across the course of his arc. It starts with others calling him a freak in childhood because of his polydactyly, and that wound opens all the rest as he develops a dangerously low self-esteem contingent on intellectual feats. The narrative links his ambition to his earliest insecurity at every turn: Stanley juxtaposing Ford’s polydactyly and intelligence as two anomalies about him, Bill Cipher taunting Ford about both, and Ford hiding his hands at key moments. That’s why he makes a deal with Bill, really a demon exploiting him -because he sees no other way to prove the world wrong about his basic humanity.

Bill’s abuse of Ford gives an unexpected psychological edge to an otherwise comedic villain. Putting the “con” in “Panopticon”, Bill traps Ford in a nightmare from which he cannot awaken… and it hurts. We never see Ford’s escape from Bill’s world because he never left, per visible fractures in his psyche’s thin ice: insomnia, paranoia, anger, sense of foreshortened future, a mind of equal parts shame and guilt over things that weren’t his fault, self-destruction, and of course, trusting no one. And I mean, shit. That’s what trauma does. It doesn’t just magically go away as in stories where fantasy elements don’t code for anything real. The journals, “A Tale of Two Stans”, and “The Last Mabelcorn” together epitomize how this show’s details acquire nuance in retrospect.

Ford’s fixation on his journals, already symbols of himself, acquires nuance in retrospect. To Ford, the journals represent his own tenuous sense of self-worth -so of course he clings to them against the negation of self that demon possession represents. Those pages hide the vulnerability just as he does, but were probably the only thing grounding him in the reality that he owns this experience, he legitimately suffered degradation, and he will not let anyone erase that (read: him) without a fight. Given how his encrypted emotional rawness disrupts a show that otherwise keeps its drama safe and restrained emotionally, he succeeded. Ford becomes the journal becomes the dangerous and marvelous allure of mystery, a psychic echo of both the spiritual violation of the man and the inviolate perseverance that kept his spirit alive.

Ford’s arc also unveils something the show’s truisms about family cannot, namely everything wrong with the idea of familial obligation. Y’know, the idea that family members “owe” each other more than basic decency, so coercive indebtedness rather than freely-given, unselfish love keeps the relationship afloat? People reject this entitlement complex in other kinds of relationships, but think it sacrosanct in families. Especially those with gifted kids.

This show might have fallen down that bottomless pit if not for the Stans’ backstory: their father valued Ford only as “our ticket out of this dump” and abandoned Stan for interfering with that. Like many siblings from bad homes, the two shared milder shades of the parent’s mentality: Ford writing off Stan as badly-intentioned, and Stan assuming Ford owes him. So Ford had every right to not thank Stan for unsolicited favors -just not to conclude, as he did, that Stan only cared about him for his supposed debt. It’s vital they don’t reconcile until Stan does something without expecting thanks, so the ending isn’t some banality about Ford accepting he ~really did~ owe his brother uwu; it’s Stan giving up that way of thinking, Ford giving up the distrust that made him see everything in extremes, and both moving toward a healthy understanding of family.

The matter of Ford’s past makes it so important he respects boundaries (“he doesn’t make fun of me all the time the way you and Grunkle Stan do”). Like I said, shows like this usually say that family gets to nullify personal boundaries. Ford confounds that with a key element of healthy relationships: never denying the validity of anyone’s feelings. He never crosses this line as Stan does during their fight (albeit still crossing others); more positively, he validates Dipper’s interests and reassures Mabel she’s a good person and treats Fiddleford with dignity when they needed it most. Ford did far more good than harm, in areas where no one else could, that’s for damn sure. All because he’ll never replicate the horrific boundary violations he endured. Trauma didn’t make him this way, but that he acted this way in the face of it shows truly admirable integrity.

Ford is a good person because even without trust, he has intrinsic respect for others’ dignity. We see child!Ford would rather “fit in” than truly be normal because from the first, he has that crazy dream of people deserving fundamental respect (never deserving the violence of alienation) without exception. That’s why he doesn’t mock people, and why he reclaims the study of anomalies and himself with it. We see in the journals’ hand-symbol the same repressed light of self-preservation as lets him reconnect, overpowering his unfounded fears that he only hurts people and deserves none of their help. And Ford takes that study of anomalies with him to the end, never forfeiting his true self. So the show takes its affinity for weirdness beyond lip service, as it had with mystery and family, by showing that (neurodivergent-coded) Others deserve acceptance as they are.

Have I read too deeply into what I introduced at the beginning as an ultimately lighthearted kids’ show? Yes. Definitely. Absolutely. But when it’s a show all about detail and mystery, you can’t give me a surface and expect me not to look under it. Seeing sublime new dimensions to things makes growing up worthwhile, and that’s why Stanford Pines is my favorite Gravity Falls character.

I just saw a post saying that Stanford's "willingness to let Stan be treated by their parents that way" (paraphrased) makes him a failure of a brother or some shit. I was so mad lol

The sheer number of posts blaming Ford for the way Filbrick treated Stan makes my eye twitch so. bad.

What a way to make it the child's responsibility for how their parents treat them and their siblings. Like, they know that Ford ALSO grew up in an abusive environment and was abused too, right?? Apparently not oml

Don't even get me started on the science fair incident. Like, he had every right to be mad, and it wasn't Ford that threw Stan out. Blaming a child for not standing up to their abusive parents for their sibling seems to be rampant in the Gravity Falls fandom these days

The sheer number of posts blaming Ford for the way Filbrick treated Stan makes my eye twitch so. bad.

What a way to make it the child's responsibility for how their parents treat them and their siblings. Like, they know that Ford ALSO grew up in an abusive environment and was abused too, right?? Apparently not oml

Don't even get me started on the science fair incident. Like, he had every right to be mad, and it wasn't Ford that threw Stan out. Blaming a child for not standing up to their abusive parents for their sibling seems to be rampant in the Gravity Falls fandom these days

also i think people forget that light’s personsona isn’t some snobbish elitist. people see him as just an extra smart guy. he’s a genius and he’s good at tennis but it’s in an endearing way. he’s the guy who you’d ask to help with your homework and he’d smile and say ‘sure!’ and he has a lot of friends even if nobody actually knows him deep down. he wouldn’t get caught as kira because he’d have a meltdown over trans people’s deadnames or whatever he’s good at reacting to new situations. he’s humble and people like him for a reason. he’s uncontroversial and easygoing. he respects authority but is down to earth enough to make jokes. that’s how he survived as kira. his camouflage was actually good. even before kira. you wouldn’t be “put off by his repulsive vibes.”

let’s put it this way. if light had a social media platform he wouldn’t be posting unhinged political takes, no matter his actual politics. he probably wouldn’t be posting about politics at all. he’d probably be posting about organizing or studying or something. hell, maybe he’d be an online tutor that people would love. point is, you think he’s unhinged because you see his inner thoughts. other people don’t.

its crazy bc if you think about it from fords perspective people kind of just disappear

There is an astounding lack of Stanford angst content out here..

*in a confession booth* i enjoy making jekyll a pretty boy so i can watch him ruin his life and cry and scream and whither and be beautiful while doing it. i enjoy giving him features i find very attractive and distorting them whenever he transfers into hyde.

i enjoy his outer beauty meaning nothing in the face of the ugliness inside himself

this is such an unserious take for me to post but like. stan did not teach himself all sorts of super-advanced experimental physics to rebuild the portal.

stan had the portal that was already complete and functional but broken. and repaired it enough to turn it back on. which he did by following the instructions in the journals. like. cmon man. no, stan is not an epic supergenius who without any instruction, education, or outside help built an entire interdimensional portal from scratch. like. why would he even need the journals if the "stan single handedly taught himself how to build a portal" take was true. cmon man be fr

I don't even hate Fiddlestan as a ship itself, but my opinion of it is definitely soured by the way fans of the ship treat Ford. Like, what the hell do you mean by "Stan would treat Fiddleford better," like no the fuck he would not??

(+ bonus fiddauthor & Fiddleford Is Canonically The 45th President In The GF Universe edition)