I remember that day when we arrived at the beach—it was already too late. Everyone had left, leaving behind only the remnants of fireworks scattered across the sand. Colorful confetti, soaked by the sea, made the advertising print on them nearly illegible. Among shards of broken colored glass and seaweed, you found an already opened condom wrapper in the muck and excitedly pointed it out to me, while I felt nothing but disgust.
At the time, I didn’t love this filthy backyard excuse for a scenic spot. I hated how dull, backward, and utterly empty it was. I especially despised how other small-town residents saw it as some romantic haven, drawing teenagers who wandered the damp sand like pilgrims. They’d come meticulously dressed, as if convinced their destined love would emerge from the sea, birthed into the arms of a lonely soul like a newborn from its mother’s amniotic fluid. But this was the 1970s—the moon was already covered in steel machines. Even Venus ought to emerge from a delivery room by now. The beach was no place for romantic miracles.
You nudged me and told me to take off my shoes. I didn’t. You burst into laughter and, with no regard for the risk of being cut by glass, walked barefoot onto the damp sand. I watched your feet, but you didn’t step on anything—not glass, not anything else. You kept walking into the sea, farther and farther, fading into the growing darkness. Soon, I could barely make out your figure in the vast, dark ocean. Then you stopped, raised your arms, and shouted toward the opposite shore, your voice swallowed at the edges by the white noise of the waves. You sounded happy.
When you came back, you said, disappointed, that you hadn’t expected everyone else to leave so early. You strained your eyes toward the other side but saw nothing—not even the lights of New York. Because it’s already four in the morning, I said, swallowing the second half of my sentence. We were late because I wouldn’t leave the house until I finished an assignment I was deeply invested in at the time. You never interrupted my studies.
We leaned against the car, watching sparks crawl along the fuses of the fireworks you’d set up, and you cracked open a can of beer. I declined when you offered me one, immediately regretting it. The fuse took far too long to ignite the firework. I had nothing to do but look around and again caught sight of the torn condom wrapper. Not long ago, someone had made love here, I thought. Then you moved.
We were standing so close that I could feel your body heat in the gaps between the sea breeze. Someone had made love here, right on this beach, and now we stood on the very same sand where they had.
The firework exploded—yellow and orange. You shouted in excitement, but I was lost in thoughts of what happens when people make love. They take off their clothes. They touch each other. They whisper sweet words. Smoke rolled up from the firework casing as I turned to look at your face, bathed in orange-red light. Then, with a jolt of horror, I realized that lovers also kiss on this beach.
As the yellow sparks faded, they turned the color of calcium chloride. The purple ones, I thought, must be from strontium salts and copper chloride. These burning metal salts streaked through the air, their brilliant colors dyeing the smoke that trailed behind them. I tilted my head and lowered my gaze, pretending to examine the firework casing but really sneaking glances at your face from the corner of my eye, trying to study the shape of human lips.
Kissing. I thought about the word. I didn’t know how to French kiss, but at that moment, I knew nothing could stop me from leaning forward and pressing my lips to yours. A chill ran down my spine.
I asked myself why I would think such a thing, but a more terrifying voice asked why I wouldn’t. Maybe it was a kind of high-place phenomenon, like wondering whether touching the firework would hurt. I wanted to know what it felt like to jump from a great height, to drink sulfuric acid, to press a blade hard enough to slice my finger open, to walk into the sea and let myself be submerged. I wanted to know what would happen if I kissed you. It was all just idle thoughts, but in that moment, I felt dizzy, hyperaware of every part of my body as though I might forget to breathe if I didn’t focus.
I started to feel trapped inside my own small body. I thought I saw you glance at me, and I was terrified you might know. I was even more terrified that you didn’t, because that would mean we weren’t close enough.
I wondered what excuses I could use if I did it, and that thought pained me because I wanted to be honest with you. Sitting beside you on that New Year’s night, watching the fireworks turn purple, all I could think about was how intensely I felt that if I didn’t kiss you at that moment I might die,I would never have another chance. Summoning all my courage, I finally turned to look at you, overwhelmed by thoughts and realizing I might start vomiting if I didn’t speak. Just then, you turned to look at me too. In your eyes, I saw the reflection of the fireworks.
You said, “After we finish the fireworks, can we go to my friend’s house and watch a movie? There’ll be a bunch of people—it’ll be fun.”
I said, “Sure.”
We finished setting off all the fireworks we had. It was fun. We even tried to use the fireworks to light the surface of the sea. On the way back, we saw other people—they had just gone elsewhere to hang out. You stroked the steering wheel, musing about how great the car’s engine was, and that was the first time in my life I felt shame.
What are your guys' thoughts on how Stancest could come to confess their feelings in ways that don't somehow involve a supernatural event... Because I can't help but imagine that a fucking truth spell or hallucination caused by a siren or something has got to be involved for those two to communicate about something that insanely vulnerable
ship discourse is unserious but the "who would treat fiddleford better" arguments on tumblr are crazy to me because have we all forgotten nuance? anyways here's a relationship analysis:
fiddauthor has its own unhealthy aspects because ford not only tunnel-visioned on his research to the point of dismissing fiddleford, he was also being actively isolated by his abuser (bill), who was turning the two against each other. and, at the same time, fiddleford was actively lying to ford about the memory gun, then used it on ford, a complete violation of trust. in alex hirsch's own words, fiddleford was like a yes-man to ford (until he wasnt), to the detriment of both of them.
but also they found solace in each other, as two outcasts with similar interests. even if ford could be dismissive at times with his gifts, its so clear that he valued fiddleford as his one friend, that they found so much enjoyment in each other's company in both college and in gravity falls. and ignoring that is doing them both a disservice! none of the hurt they inflicted on each other was done out of malice; they were being slowly broken down by the environment around them.
fiddlestan is more difficult to dissect for obvious reasons but comparing stan's past failed relationships to a hypothetical one with fiddleford is a moot point. we're working with a vastly different scenario here. stan would need fiddleford to stay in his desperation to save ford, and fiddleford could be easily guilt-tripped despite his trauma. would stan be an asshole to fiddleford? yeah, he would probably grow impatient with fiddleford's anxiety, and they would have very clashing personalities and interests, along with bad trust issues. fiddleford would be very reliant on the memory gun at this point, and they both would be at their mental lowest: it would not be an easy or healthy relationship.
but at the same time, it's not difficult to see how two very broken people could find solace in each other, especially due to a shared grief. its a unique situation that only they could understand, so of course it would make sense that fiddleford's desire to fix vs stan's abandonment issues would lead to something, for better or for worse. at the end of the day, they both understand the broken bonds of family and they both want to feel needed. it's not farfetched to speculate that they'd find comfort in each other.
anyways. i love these three very flawed, very hurt, and very human individuals. i think they're capable of causing each other a lot of pain. they do cause each other a lot of pain. but also they grow and they heal, and it pains me to see people reduce them to their singular actions. (but also the jokes are funny so yknow...i get it carry on)
Ok here’s a Stancest hot take that I’m just gonna throw out there:
Stan is the constantly jealous one in their relationship, not ford. Stan is the one who’s insecure about losing ppl. And that fear often stems from thinking he won’t measure up in comparison. He gets defensive about who the better care taker is, he gets defensive about Gideon, a literal 10 year old, one up-ing him in his line of work, he drove a guy’s car into a ravine cuz a girl didn’t like him as much. HES JEALOUS ALL THE TIME BECAUSE HES SO INSECURE. Ford is insecure too obviously but in a different way. His insecurity NEVER manifests as jealousy in canon, it usually shows in stubborn overcompensation (I think because his positive traits were more validated growing up). Stan’s jealousy is over the top childish and pathetic and so funny. The way he acts out is so extreme, he went so far as to run for mayor because he was jealous once. I want more crazy jealous Stan
Based off of that one Teen!Stancest + Carla threesome comic where Stanford is fucking Stanley from behind and staring daggers at Carla.
Mystery Trio scenario. Stanford has always loved Stanley, even after the whole falling out bit. They had something when they were teens but it was nothing defined, nothing concrete. They reconnect and Stanford asks Stanley to come live with him and Fiddleford in Gravity Falls. He accepts. Stanford ends up learning all of the horrible things Stanley has endured and refocuses all of his grief and shame into overprotectiveness and slight possessive behavior. Stanford wants to rekindle what they once had but has no idea how to broach the topic back to Stanley, or if he even wants that at all.
What he is certain of is that he doesn't like the way Fiddleford eyes up his brother when they're out researching. It was fine back in college when Fiddleford would eye him, fool around with him, flirt and grope him. But Stanley, his twin, his other half, his baby brother? (When did I start referring to Stanley as my baby brother?) He didn't want anyone else to have him. No one could treat him the way he needed to be treated. He was special, he was unique, he was delicate, he was Stanford's!
Stanford would never harm Fiddleford, dear god no. That is his best friend and a damn good mechanic and scientist. He loves Fiddleford very much. He just wishes he could understand that Stanley was completely and utterly off limits. He didn't mind their friendship, in fact, he encouraged it. But those lingering touches, those cheeky lines, those fluttering eyes. Those needed to come to a stop. Immediately.
Fiddleford is openly attracted to both twins and one day over drinks, asks if they ever had a threesome before. Stanley tells them they have with a girl back in high school. Stanford tightens his grip on his beer bottle while Stan regals Fiddleford of the escapades. Afterwards, Fiddleford brings up the idea that if they ever wanted to have another, he'd be willing to be the third. After much deliberation, they agree. Stanford sees this as a way to finally reclaim the relationship he had with Stanley while also warning Fiddleford not to meddle with his Stanley.
So, the day comes, and they the boys find themselves in a very similar position as they used for Carla. Stanley fucking into Fiddleford, Fiddleford on his back looking up, Stanford behind and fucking into Stanley. Fiddleford is having a great time. He feels both of them rocket into him and soon he finds himself finishing. Soon he feels Stanley following, but Ford keeps going. In his haze, he watches Stanford rail into Stanley, who in turn is still into Fiddleford. Stanford looks different, methodical, possessive, angry. He's fucking Stanley with a punishing speed, one making him cross his eyes. Fiddleford is watching between his own overstimulation and bewilderment. He can't look away, especially not with how Stanford refuses to let go of his eyesight, boring into him. Finally Stanford cums, holding Stanley close. They all pass out in bed together shortly afterwards.
Fiddleford wakes up in the night. He's naked and content. Next to him, Stanley is laying on his side, with Stanford wrapping around from behind. They're snoring in unison. He leaves them be to grab some water and something to eat in the kitchen. He cant help but think back to way Stanford fucked into Stanley, how Stanford stared at him. It was honestly a bit scary. He's down there longer than he thought he was because half way up the stairs, he hears something coming from his room. He tip toes and peeks inside, an awful, dreadful feeling dancing around his skin. Like a stranger trespassing into someone else's home.
Stanley i still on his side, whimpering softly as Stanford is whispering in his ear and leaving kisses around the side of his head. Stanford has one of Stanley's leg raises, softly pushing into him. Stanford has it placed on his own hip, while is hand is rubbing Stanley's cock. Stanley looks half asleep, moaning softly with each thrust. He's particularly noisy when Stanford sucks a hickey on his neck in a spot where Stanley can't hide it. Stanford's other hand was cradling the side of Stanley's head with his bicep, the bicep that Stanley feel asleep on. Those fingers are raking through his hair, keeping him lulled. Fiddleford watches as Stanley finally turns his head and slots his mouth with Stanford's. He feels like an awful intruder, that this is more than just some taboo sex act, more than a silly request from some horned up country boy about being shared between twins. Fiddleford leaves before he can watch them finish. He waits it out downstairs until he knows there's no more noises from the room.
Fiddleford tiptoes back into bed, now slightly warmer than he left it. Stanley has turned around, wrapped around Stanford's body, face tucked contently between Stanford's neck and the pillow. Stanford has a protective hold of him, one hand on his back and another in his hair. Fiddleford almost jumps out of his skin when Stanford addresses him.
"F."
"Y-Yeah, Stanford?"
"Don't ever make another move on Stanley again."
Fiddleford didn't need to hear the unsaid, "or else..." He nodded his head and shut his eyes.
"Goodnight, F."
"Night, Stanford."
So yeah anyway, Mystery Trio with possessive and overprotective Stanford over Stanley. Fiddleford being traumatized that his boss/best friend. It's a good time around. Especially when Stanford becomes more overtly affectionate with Stanley in the house, keeping just one eye out on Fiddleford.
Fiddleford isn’t nearly as athletic as Ford. Now, there are probably Blind Eye members more capable of chasing after Stanford if they were trying to forcefully erase his memories, but that doesn’t mean they’d be successful. The man may be depriving himself of sleep, but he’s built up enough brute strength and endurance to escape. He made it home after collapsing in a truck stop parking lot, and managed to fight Stanley in the portal room.
The Blind Eye members wouldn’t know the layout of the forest and mountains as well as Ford. He spend years out by himself in nature, trying to drink in every detail. Even the members who know the forest because they grew up there haven’t looked at the forest the same way as him. These are people scared of the supernatural who willingly joined Fiddleford’s memory erasing cult. They aren’t going to be experts in Gravity Falls guerrilla warfare.
The memory gun eventually made the Blind Eye members forget who their founder was, and the forced use on the townsfolk made everyone stupider. The young people like Soos and Wendy haven’t had their minds erased as often, so they aren’t affected like the adult population. While pre-portal journey Ford would be up against the first generation of cultists before they forgot Fiddleford, I still feel like the effects of the memory gun would hamper their efforts to hunt him down. Especially if he goes into the mountains and woods full of creatures these cultists have been trying to forget.
Bill would be annoyed like a bratty toddler if Stanford lost his memories, so he’d oppose it too. Not out of care for the man [shipping them is extremely gross], but because he’s impatient to get that portal running, and takes too much delight in tormenting Ford. Knowing this group of people is afraid of the supernatural, should Ford be captured by the cult somehow, Bill would intimidate them into letting him go. Or beat them up using his body.
5. Ford was becoming aware of Fiddleford’s use of the memory gun before he left the project. He was already getting [rightfully] paranoid about Fidds before the reveal that Bill was evil, but that paranoia only got worse after the fact. He’s no coward about it; the man still went into town and was chasing Blind Eye members to try and find out who they were. But yes, Ford is smart and anxious enough to watch his back in town, in case the Blind Eye tried to get him.
6. Fiddleford wasn’t just the founder of the memory erasing cult, he was also the most addicted to using the machine on himself. Which explains why he lost his mind and became homeless so quickly, while the other members like Ivan are still sane enough to run the cult. Pre-portal journey would also be the time when memories about Bill were the freshest, so it’s safe to assume Fidds was using that ray on himself plenty. Even though both men were in a deteriorating metal state, Stanford was not as unwell or near the point of insanity.
7. Ford was always better at dealing with the stress of dangerous anomaly attacks and horror, which served him well in those thirty years beyond the portal. He also survived for 30 years while an outlaw, homeless, lost, and still at risk of possession [until he met the Oracle]. If it got bad enough in Gravity Falls and the cult was looking for him, Ford could survive in the wilderness just fine. Or escape to another town in Oregon or the surrounding states. But he’s probably return as soon as he thought they had given up to make sure the portal was secure.
8. For Ford to be turned into a shell of himself like in the drawing, he’d have to have something integral to his identity erased. Something like “the supernatural” or “weirdness” itself. But A. That would probably break the memory gun or require an hour’s worth of memory canisters. And B. That would so obviously send the poor guy back to when he was a toddler that Fidds would immediately realize he messed up. Why a toddler? Because he hadn’t met the bullies at school yet, and extended family would find him more cute than weird.
But yeah, if Ford started talking like a 3-4 year old who thought he’d been kidnapped, there’d be no way to argue that he’s okay. They’d have to try to sort through his dense paranormal memories in that pile of canisters, trying to undo the damage.
9. If they did mess up Ford’s mind that badly, Fidds would feel terrible about it and try to fix it. I imagine Stanley would be contacted using Ford’s old mail, and knock some sense into the cultists on his way to revive Stanford’s mind. And the erasure wouldn’t stop Bill from being terrible to Ford, so it would once again prove that Fidds was wrong to erase his mind in no uncertain terms.
10. Even at the height of his cult arc, I doubt Fiddleford would be so full of it/stupid that he erased “the paranormal” from Ford’s mind. They knew each other for years, he should know that it’s something Stanford cherishes, and has ever since he was a child. Which ultimately means there’s a nil chance of Ford getting lobotomies via memory gun, even with Blind Eye Fiddleford on the prowl.
So yeah, TDLR I must not be over that ancient AU where Dipper gets his entire mind wiped and the cult just keeps him like a servant. Kidnapped a 12 year old boy. [Ivan wasn’t that evil bro].
STANLEY PINES IS IN LOVE WITH FORD PINES HE WOULD RISK THE ENTIRE UNIVERSE FOR HIM AND YOURE TELLING ME THATS NOT ROMANTIC SHUT UP
comics based on by the skin of your teeth by Rev (apathetic_revenant) on ao3
I finally figured it out. The reason most fanfics focus on what Stanford wants rather than what Stanley wants is that, when it comes to desire, Stanley is genuinely much more indifferent than Stanford 🤔.
He doesn’t seem to have any strong obsessions (aside from Ford, of course), nor does he appear to be actively chasing anything. Even his pursuit of money feels more like an animal searching for a water source—it’s not about wealth itself, but about securing the resources necessary for survival. He never really seemed to crave a rich lifestyle, and even when he had money, he wasn’t the type to enjoy spending it. He just wanted it.
Strip away everything related to Ford and the ripples caused by Ford’s existence, and Stanley honestly seems like someone who could live just about any kind of life—married or unmarried, doesn’t matter. He likes kids, but the fact that he never had his own doesn’t seem to bother him. His life is, in reality, incredibly restrained. Outside of making money upstairs and fixing the portal downstairs, the only real sources of change or enjoyment in his life are the kids.
That’s what makes these two so fascinating. Stanford plays the role of a detached, rational scientist, supposedly free from worldly desires—when, in truth, he has so many wants, so many pursuits, so much ambition. Meanwhile, Stanley is perfectly content with everyone seeing him as a greedy conman, and he even embraces that image—but in reality, his lifestyle is practically one of self-inflicted asceticism.
These two make me sick
I've had this idea for a while - the dynamic pre-finale but post-portal-reactivation is brief but super interesting ngl. They hate each other's ass
Do not tag as stancest