Thanks to everyone who participated in Forduary 2022! It’s been great seeing everyone’s work and sharing it with everyone who has liked and reblogged it. Please let us know if you created anything for this year’s event that we missed reblogging or if there’s anything relevant that you or someone you know created during the event that you’d like to see us reblog and we’ll make sure it happens.
Special thanks to @fexalted for the lovely sketches for the Forduary illustrations to match their Stanuary ones! (Forduary ones inked and colored by me - @ginandshattereddreams - It was so much fun getting to collaborate on these!)
Hey there all! Another entry for @forduary in going with the theme of Week 3: Hands/AU where it takes place in the Lost and Gained AU, depicting times in Ford’s life involving more positive moments. Hope you all enjoy this ficlet!
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“Aw, Filbrick! Shermie! Come look!” Caryn Pines held up newborn Ford’s six-fingered hands to show her husband who held newborn Stan in his arms. “He’s got the six fingers like my father has!” Filbrick grunted, less enthused as his wife and the mention of her protective father brought back memories of how he didn’t like the old man of Caryn’s. But young Shermie was ecstatic.
“That is so neat!”
“He’s going to be made fun of,” bluntly imputed Filbrick.
“Well it didn’t stop my dad from living his life, and it won’t stop Stanford’s. He’s perfect as he is.” Little Ford giggled.
“You can shove off, Crampelter!” shouted young Stan at the older boy and his other two boys as they walked away laughing. Stan snorted and looked back at his twin brother who had tears forming in his eyes and his hands behind his back. “Hey, it’s gonna be okay, Sixer. No one makes fun of your hands on my watch.” Stan gave his brother a tight hug.
Ford really hoped this would stop at some point when no one cares how many fingers he has on his hands and be treated as normal.
“Hey, fellas!” greeted a young Andy as she and her penpal Lucina Evergreen approached the twin boys at the beach. Stan and Ford stopped what they were doing on their wrecked boat and faced their friend, and a new girl to them, walking up to them.
“Hey, Andy!” Stan waved.
“Greetings!”
“Who’s the new girl?” Stan asked. “Don’t think we’ve seen her around here or in school.”
“You remember me mentioning a penpal, right?” Ford and Stan nodded. The girl with the lengthy black hair shyly shuffled her feet, her bangs concealing one of her eyes, but keeping her left brown eye exposed while holding her hair. Andy smiled at Lucina. “These are my friends.”
“I’m Stanley Pines! But call me Stan.”
“And I am Stanford Pines, but you can call me Ford.” Ford extended his hand to shake hers. Lucina gasped upon seeing Ford’s six fingered hand in immediate amazement at seeing something unique she hadn’t before. Lucina shaked his hand with hers.
“Wow… six fingers. That’s… really neat!” Ford blinked. He was taken by surprise upon the new girl’s reaction to his hands. It was much better than what happened with Cathy Crenshaw. He was almost at a loss for words until Lucina moved her bangs away to reveal her right eye being a light blue. Complete heterochromia.
“Complete heterochromia. That’s so cool!” exclaimed Ford. He then realized he still held onto her hand and let hers go, not wanting things to get awkward. “Oop. Sorry. It’s just nice to know there’s someone else who is different like me.” Lucina blushed from the compliment, happy he didn’t find her too weird.
“No, you’re okay. It’s nice to see someone who’s different like me, too.”
My@forduary entry, covering the prompts of Sleep and Au’s. I hope you enjoy! (A HUGE thank you to @snapback-gravity-falls for beta-reading and helping me improve this fic)
There was a shuffling outside of Ford’s room. Followed by several hushed whispers. The old man rubbed the sleep from his eyes and blindly passed his hand over his night stand for his glasses. It took a few moments. But he was able to read the bright red numbers on his alarm clock. 2:03 am.
“Greg, please, let’s not bother him.” Ford could make out Wirt’s voice from the other side of his bedroom door.
“Don’t worry Wirt!” Greg replied. He made little effort to lower his voice. “Mr. Ford will know what to do to help.”
“I just need to go back to sleep-Greg wait,” Wirt said, raising his voice.
There was a firm knock on his door. Stanford pushed himself into a sitting position, swinging his legs off the side of his bed. He took a moment to stretch before getting up and opening his door. Before him stood the two half-brothers he had taken into his care. Greg stood in front of the door, his stance confident, even if his drooping eyes showed that he was still a little tired. Behind him was Wirt, looking like he’d been fighting for his life. His eyes were bloodshot , he had hastily wiped away tear tracks along his cheeks and sweat along his brow. Worst of all were deep bags under his eyes.
“Good morning boys.” Stanford said.
“Good night Mr. Ford.” Greg said.
“Sorry.” Wirt’s gaze wouldn’t meet his, seemingly more invested in the floorboards.
“What seems to be the matter?” Stanford stepped forward and placed a hand on Wirt’s shoulder.
“It’s nothi-”
“Wirt had a bad dream.” Greg interrupted.
“Did he now?” Stanford raised an eyebrow. He pulled his hand back and placed it on his hip.
“Yeah, and he needs help getting a good sleep. But I don’t think I can do it by myself.”
“Greg, you’re making it sound worse than it is.” Wirt said quickly. He roughly pulled his brother back from Stanford. “I’m sorry, it isn’t anything to worry about. I’ll just take us back to our room.”
Greg squirmed against his brother’s hold. “But you need help sleeping.”
“No I don’t,” Wirt whispered harshly, tightening his grip.
“Wirt. Are you having trouble sleeping?” Stanford asked.
“It’s nothing serious, just some bad dreams.” Wirt reassured. He waves his hand, loosening his hold on Greg. “I think I’m just getting stressed from assignments.”
Stanford wasn’t convinced. He knelt down to Greg and whispered into his ear. The young’s sleepy eyes widened with excitement. He gave Stanford a salute before escaping Wirt’s grasp and running back to his bedroom. Ford stood up and walked over to Wirt.
“Are you sure you don’t want to talk about what’s troubling you?’ he asked.
“It’s nothing.” Wirt muttered, staring at a spot in the carpet.
Stanford gestured to Wirt’s face. “‘Nothing’ doesn’t give you bags that take up half your face.”
“Are they that bad?” Wirt asked, patting his face.
“No, but take it from someone who spent years staying up to dawn’s light for weeks at a time, you’re not the best at hiding your sleep deprivation.” Stanford smirked.
Wirt sighed. “It feels dumb. I didn’t want to come crying to you over something like bad dreams.”
“Believe me, I know that dreams can be far from harmless.” Stanford glanced down the hall towards the balcony. “Let’s get some fresh air.” He nodded towards the balcony door.
Wirt followed as Ford took the first few steps into the cool air of the balcony. The cool tiles against his bare feet made a shiver run along his spine. A much needed shock to wake him from his sleepy demeanor. He watched as Ford took in several deep breaths of the cold night air. It was still as the pair looked out to the black night sky, listening to the rustle of the trees in the autumn breeze.
“I won’t force you to tell me anything. If you’re not comfortable speaking about it, that is.” Stanford leaned forward, resting both his arms against the railing.
“I- I don’t know.” Wirt sighed. “I’m in high school…getting nightmares and crying to an adult about it feels like something Greg would do.”
“There isn’t anything wrong with seeking comfort Wirt.” Ford assured.
“I guess. Wait…how many times did Mabel have to grill you to think that naturally.” Wirt raised an eyebrow wryly.
“Oh dear, it seems my secret’s out. I’m glad that you haven’t lost your wit after having your nerves rattled.” Ford chuckled. He tilted his head towards Wirt, smile falling from his face. “I may have considered it a sign of weakness when I was younger, but with some help from my family, I realized that being harsh on myself in such a way was not helpful to anyone.”
“Mm. I guess that makes sense.” Wirt rested his hands on the cold metal of the railing. The warmth in his hand was quickly sapped. It wasn’t an unpleasant feeling, it helped ground him a little more as he gathered his thoughts.
“If it’s about the Unknown, then it could be the beast trying to get a hold of you.” Ford hummed. He tapped his chin, eyes fixated on the trees that swayed in the light autumn breeze beneath them. “I should have some materials to make some charms to keep you and your brother safe.”
“I wasn’t dreaming about the Unknown.” Wirt crossed his arms, staring at the floor.
“Oh.”
Wirt’s nails dug into his arm. He turned to Ford, his throat tightened as he tried summoning the strength to speak. His words died on his tongue as he opened and closed his mouth several times. He was about to turn back into the apartment when a gentle hand was placed on his shoulder. Looking up Wirt found himself looking into Ford’s caring gaze, and for a brief moment the fear that felt colder than the cold autumn air disappeared.
Taking a deep breath Wirt started to recall his dream. “I was getting ready for a party with my friends from school. We were on our way back here, but instead of presents they helped me pack my bags. When I asked them what they were doing, you stepped into my room and said that I was old enough to be on my own…and…that I needed to move out. I tried to say something, ask why or convince you to not throw me out, but you would just laugh over me.
“I wanted to cry, but something in me made me scream out that you were being unfair. After that, the world around me shattered, like glass, and I was left standing in this inky darkness. I tried to run for help and find someone, but my feet were stuck to the ground. I looked down and saw that I was turning into a tree. I could feel the stiffness crawling up my legs. I reached out, trying to run away from my own feet. But I just ended up turning into an edgewood tree.” Wirt’s knuckles turned white as he tightened his grip on his arm. Wirt was drawn from his thoughts for a moment as he felt the warmth of Ford’s arm wrapping around his shoulders.
“It felt like an eternity had passed as I stared out to nothing in my wooden prison. But then, like the wind that blows through the branches of trees in the forest, I heard the same sadistic laughter from earlier. Then a hand holding an axe before it swung at my neck. I woke up just as the blade was about to… get me.” Wirt let out a shaky breath that turned into a weak chuckle. “Real dumb right?”
“As dreams go, I wouldn’t call it the most enjoyable. Unless you are a particularly sadistic lumberjack.” Stanford laughed softly. He glanced over in concern. “However, you were clearly shaken by this.”
“I don’t know why.” Wirt threw his hands up in the air. “You promised you wouldn’t leave me or Greg. You’ve helped us so many times…so why do I still feel like I’m always one mistake from being thrown to the streets?”
Those last words hit Stanford particularly hard. Images of a young man, hardly younger than Wirt staring up at him from the cold street one unfortunate night. Biting back the guilt, Stanford pushed away the image of angrily closing the curtains on his distraught twin’s distraught face to focus on the matter at hand.
“When someone is forced into a stressful situation, their body and mind adjust in order to survive. When exposed to that sort of stress for extended periods of time, your body will grow used to that level of stress and anxiety. Just because I say I won’t abandon you… that doesn’t mean your subconscious mind has adjusted to this situation. It will take you a while before you will properly adjust.” Stanford said slowly.
“How long will it take? I hate living like this.” Wirt scowled.
“There isn’t a real measurement for this sort of issue.” Stanford looked up towards the sky above, his gaze lost in the countless stars and the possibilities they held. “From my own experience, it took me the better part of three years to grow out of the habit of sleeping with my ray-gun on my person.”
“What kind of trouble left you needing to get used to that?” Wirt asked tentatively.
“The Stuck-traveling-through-the-multiverse-for-30-years-with-no-set-place-of-safety kind.” Stanford grinned.
“Oh.” Wirt looked ashamed at asking.
“Don’t worry, I’m home and I’m here to stay.” Stanford assured. “And if you need any advice on how I adapted, I’d be more than happy to offer some advice.”
“Mr. Dr. Ford! My mission is complete!” Greg burst out onto the balcony and gave Stanford a serious salute.
“Good job young man.” Stanford returned the gesture with a wide grin.
“What are you two planning?” Wirt looked between the pair with suspicion.
“You aren’t the first person in history to suffer from bad dreams. When I was a young boy-”
“Back with the dinosaurs?” Greg interrupted.
“Those were a little before my time,” Ford ruffled Greg’s hair. “As I was saying, my brother and I would sometimes be helped back to sleep by our mother. She would have us in one bed, rather than in our separate bunks. She’d read us stories, and keep us in arms reach for plenty of hugs. Some nights she would join us in bed.”
“But I’m not a kid,” Wirt whined.
“You’re never too old for hugs, Wirt.” Greg crossed his arms.
“Well said, Greggory.” Stanford smiled. He led the way back into the house towards his bedroom. “Come on now, we need to get as much sleep as we can or we’ll all be late for school tomorrow.”
“Can we have waffles for breakfast?” Greg asked. He grabbed a hold of Wirt’s hand and dragged him into the apartment.
“If we sleep quickly I’ll make hot chocolate to go with them.” Ford promised with an indulgent smile.
The old man opened the door to reveal a pillow fort on his bed, designed and built by the one and only Greg. The boy babbled happily about how he had listened to Wirt’s talks about buildings and that he used the couch cushions to make it ‘stable’ and that he brought their blankets from his and Wirt’s room for extra warmth since Ford’s blankets were the roof of the fort. Greg sat comfortably, sandwiched between his brother and Ford, talking excitedly about how much fun this sleepover was going to be.
Unfortunately there wasn’t much excitement in the other two. Wirt and Ford listened intently, or at least tried to. However, the change from the cold outside, to the warmth in the expertly made pillow fort, had both of them feel their sleepiness returning.
Despite his initial excitement, Greg was the first among them to fall asleep. Ford followed suit not long after.
Last was Wirt.
He sat in the warm bundle of blankets and cushions that his brother had set up for him. The room was quiet, save for the gentle breathing of his brother and the soft snores from Ford. His heart wasn’t beating loudly, his breath wasn’t short, nothing about the situation made him feel like needed to panic.
‘It’s okay.’ He thought. ‘Ford won’t kick you out. I have a home here.’
The words felt foreign on his tongue. He looked to Ford, carefully he reached out. Wirt was half afraid that the old man would break into pieces, like everything that had just happened was another dream. Instead he was met with the sensation of warm wool against his finger tips. Ford was real. His nerves still felt on edge, as they always did, but for a brief moment Wirt felt relaxed.
He may not be perfectly fine, but he had family who were here to help him improve. And with that thought he drifted off to sleep.
~~~
Author’s note: I have an Au that’s been sitting on the back burner, which is based off of @reaganwarren’s College Drop out Dipper fic (TW: self harm). however this one is based on Dipper being a drop out in high school. The Au i devised had a series of unfortunate events that resulted in Ford taking custody of Wirt and Greg from their parents. This follows a possible situation with Ford taking care of the brothers.
A/N: Hey everyone! Here’s my late entry for @forduary Week One: Sleep. I’ve been busy and distracted throughout February so I may or may not finish the other weekly entries before the deadline. But anyhow, this takes place in the Lost and Gained AU where Ford is a parent and later grandparent. Hope you enjoy this ficlet!
Ford jolted awake from his eyes growing heavy from drifting to sleep.
Oh my. The boys need me.
It was a dark, not so quiet night in Gravity Falls in June of 1976, little Tate and his newborn brother Shiloh were crying and needing attention within their shared nursery. Thankfully, Ford had been awake for some time in getting some writing done in his journal at his desk. He raised up from his seat and walked towards the nursery, and on the way, waved at a tired Fiddleford to let him know he had it covered and he could go back to bed. He wanted to make things easier on Fiddleford and Lucina both as he can run on little sleep.
Ford opens the nursery door and sees little Tate holding onto the bars of his crib while standing and crying across from Shiloh who was also crying. Tate had six fingers on his left hand while Shiloh had six fingers on his right. Tate resembled much like his father Fiddleford, save for the brown hair, but it runs in his family as well as Ford’s. Meanwhile, Shiloh inherited Lucina’s black hair, darker skin tone and heterochromia eyes; Shiloh’s left eye was brown and his right eye blue. The room was spacious and colorful with painted depictions of the forest and animals and magical creatures. One day it was going to be both the boy’s room or until they choose to have their own rooms, respectively.
“It’s alright, boys, Dad is here.”
Ford scooped up Tate and Shiloh in his arms and checked if they needed to be fed, changed, etc before he got the boys to calm down. But they did when held in the arms of their father. He then takes a seat in the blue rocking chair in the room to rock the two boys to sleep after tending to their needs. He still finds himself amazed he’s doing something like this. Finding love. Including children in their active lives. And discovering new, wonderful and dangerous things in Gravity Falls; things he wants to share with his two boys when they’re old enough. And maybe they’ll share that love of adventure like he and Stan did long ago, before everything changed.
Ford would sing the boys a song his mother sang to him and Stan when they were little. An old Jewish lullaby from what he remembers. He found it funny she taught him the song ‘just in case you wanted to sing it someday’ but he sees what she meant now. It made him feel closer to her somehow. Tate yawned and fell asleep and so did Shiloh in Ford’s arms.
Ford would gently place the boys back in their respective cribs.
“Goodnight, Tate. Goodnight, Shiloh.” Ford placed a gentle kiss upon their foreheads and faced the doorway where Lucina and Fiddleford had been watching him the whole time. He smiled at the two. “I thought you two were in bed.”
“We were waitin’ fer you. Couldn’t help but ta watch and listen; it’s a very pretty song.”
“Thank you. It always helped me sleep when I was little. I’m actually sleepy from having sung it.”
Lucina and Fiddleford took Ford’s hand in each of theirs and led him to bed with them.
Stanford was quite possibly the most incredibly brilliant, uniquely infuriating person Fiddleford had met in his life. He had no concept of self-preservation, no regard for safety precautions or basic human needs like food or sleep or downtime. He drove himself harder than any three people, collapsed, regrouped, and drove himself harder still.
Fiddleford did his best to look after him. Sure, he offered his help to anyone who really needed it, but Stanford was his friend. An unusual friend, certainly, but a friend all the same.
Before midterms he’d come to Stanford with a question, one he needed an answer to before he could move on with a project. In hindsight, perhaps he should have tried taking his own advice about sleep before tackling advanced physics, but oh well. With hindsight comes wisdom and all that.
Stanford had clearly been in the middle of a work frenzy, looking more wired than any three of the contraptions in Fiddleford’s room. Still, he’d somehow managed to understand the concept he was presented with and explain it in a way Fiddleford could understand.
“Well,” Fiddleford had said, fairly disappointed with himself for missing the obvious answer. “That wasn’t much. I’m sorry for wastin’ your time, Stanford.”
Stanford had scoffed at that. “Don’t be ridiculous, Fiddleford,” he said, already turning back to his own work. “You’re never a waste of my time.”
And that was Stanford for you. Abrupt, distracted, probably running on caffeine fumes and stubbornness, but kind, in his own way.
Thank you so much for your votes, everyone! Remember these are just guidelines for those who work better with them or want to stick to them. Feel free to create pieces based on any of the suggested themes or use whatever inspiration comes to you! As usual, ships are okay as long as they’re between consenting adults and please keep content SFW. Also, @stanuary is still going on for anyone who’s interested!
And without further ado, the winners are:
Week 1 - Sleep/Ford x Sleep
Week 2- Dungeons Dungeons And More Dungeons
Week 3 - AU/Alternate Universe or Hands (Since AU was one of last year’s themes, for those who would like a new theme, Hands was a runner up that we’ve never used before so that will be the official alternate theme.)
Week 4- Hugs/Hug it out
For anyone who’s interested, the themes from past years are under the cut.
Please tag your works with @forduary so we can reblog them!
We have had issues in past years with a few works not showing up in the tag and with not getting notifications of being tagged so if you notice we haven’t reblogged one of your pieces after 24 hours, please send us an ask to let us know and we’ll make sure it gets reblogged. We’ll reblog works until the end of the day on March 13 in case anyone needs a bit of extra time. Thank you all so much! Have fun!
February may be over but we’re still reblogging your creations until March 13th! So if you have any more ideas or are running late, no worries! There’s still time!
It’s the end of @forduary - boy did it go fast! It’s been so fun and SO great to see everyone’s awesome work!
For Week Four, Hugs/Hug It Out, I lovingly ripped off an old Scottish legend. I hope you enjoy!
After Ford and Stan have a fight, Stan disappears. But when Ford finally finds him, it will take a little bit more than giving a hug and making up to get him back… Or maybe that’s exactly what it will take.
“I’m tellin’ you Ford, she was gorgeous,” Stan sighed as the brothers hiked through the autumn woods of Scotland.
“What was she doing talking to you?” Ford ribbed him good naturedly.
“Ha ha,” Stan answered dryly. “Anyway, then she brought me our food, and you know what she said?”
I made this comic ages ago but it fit the theme so well that I just had to redraw it for week 4. I figured a redraw would be relatively quick and easy.
…It was not. T^T
This takes place during Stan’s recovery post-Weirdmageddon. After several days of working to get his memories back, Stan starts to remember his and Ford’s complicated history. Ford is obviously deeply apologetic and tries to reconcile, but he’s also fully prepared for Stan to hate him for what happened between the two of them. Lucky for him, this is Stanley we’re talking about. He was always gonna forgive him; all he ever wanted was his brother back.
The first time Ford found Stan curled up on his bed with the blanket pulled over his head they’d been six years old. Stan had gotten into the new books Ford had received for Christmas and accidentally spilled paint all over them. Ford was furious, and didn’t talk to Stan for three days. Then he’d walked into their room and found Stan in a ball sobbing his little eyes out.
Ford sat on the bed hesitantly, looking at the floor while his brother pretended that he didn’t know Ford was there. Eventually, Stan peeked over the blanket and Ford began to talk.
“I’m still mad.”
“– I didn’t – !”
“I’m still mad.” He reached out hesitantly then abandoned caution and threw his arms around his brother. “I really liked those books.” To his horror, tears started to roll down Ford’s cheeks. Hiccup’s caught his breath and it felt like he couldn’t breathe. “I can be mad!” Stan held him while he cried.
Overall synopsis (for anyone who is newly interested):
A Gravity Falls AU idea where, in 1982, Stan threw a rope to Ford as he was being pulled into the portal. He let go of his journal in favor of grabbing the rope and it was lost to Bill’s dimension. Stan had saved him and for that, he was grateful. They talked and forgave each other for the past and all seemed well for as much as a day. That was when Bill’s ruthless anger became apparent and he took full advantage of his deal with Ford. Thirty years later, the demon is still punishing them for their refusal to rebuild the portal.
Chapter Summary:
Mabel is desperate to finish preparations for her show. Dipper is desperate for answers. Bill is desperate to eliminate a leak in his plans. Stan and Ford are desperate to prevent the end of the world.
