Happy birthday @demo-ness! You asked for Henry and or Stan + birthdays, so I hope this pleases!
———–
“It’s June 17th.”
Henry looked up from the TV and over to Stan, who was
sitting next to him on the couch.“Uh, yeah? It is?”
Stan snorted.
“Nothing you want to tell us about tomorrow?” A pause. “Nothing
important happening soon?”Henry shrugged. “Not really?”
Stan sighed, gave up, and turned the volume on the TV down.
“For fuck’s sake kid, were you going to tell anyone tomorrow
was your birthday?—
Growing up, he was aware that birthdays were things that
happened to other people, but they were non-events in his household.No. That wasn’t entirely correct.
There was the year he turned nine and his mom had given him
a two hour lecture about sin and nocturnal emissions and lust and, wait for it,
more sin. He had gone to that bed that night simultaneously confused, ashamed,
and unsure if anything he did with his hands asleep was ever going to be okay
again.Or when he turned fourteen and his dad told him it was time
to become a man and he took him to the strip club two towns over where his dad
didn’t even have to bribe the bouncer to get Henry in. All of his dad’s buddies
were there, and the two uncles Henry liked the least, and they had booed when
he was too embarrassed to put a dollar in the woman on stage’s g-string. Uncle
Rene had given him something to drink and there was another round of boos as
Henry coughed it up, the burn of alcohol completely unexpected.That night had ended with his dad punching him in the gut
(so it wouldn’t show) for embarrassing him so badly. Then he had shoved him
into a back room with one of the women who worked at the club, with instructions
to “make a man out of him.” Thankfully Delilah had taken one look at him, and
more than that, saw how old he was, and they had spent the night playing cards
and talking about Harry Potter instead.Eighteen and leaving the house for good, and the crunch of
bone under his fist as he let out a life time of anger and pain in one punch to
his father’s nose.To be fair, his parents never really celebrated their own
birthdays-(why did he have to be fair? Fuck being fair.)
-and considering his track record, he saw no reason to
celebrate his once he left the house. Birthdays were for people who had family
and friends to celebrate with. Birthdays were for people who were used to
having them. And since he fit none of the both, he would simply let it be.—-
“I didn’t think it was that important,” Henry protested
weakly. At that Stan let out a belly laugh, going on for a full minute before
calming down.“If you think Mabel would think the same, I got some ocean
front property in Iowa to sell you kid.” The older man grew more solemn.“Look, I know what it’s like to…. Not really get the point
of birthdays. Trust me. Honestly I’m still pretty eh on celebrating mine to be
honest but-“Stan gestured, throwing a hand that encompassed the ratty
living room, the sound of Dipper doing god-knew-what in the kitchen, the thumps
of Mabel chasing Gompers outside.“We’re not alone any more. They care about us. Maybe we
should let them.”The room was silent for a moment, and Henry looked away to give
Stan the breathing room to recover from expressing an emotion.“Besides,” Stan pointed out. “If you don’t tell Mabel, she
will either kill your or get into some ridiculous shenanigans trying to find
out when your birthday is.”(It was a small gathering the next day. But as he took his
first bite of birthday cake in his life, Henry had never felt more loved in his
life)
Tag: stan
where have all the cowboys gone?
Or, Miss Willow Pines has one hell of a dream. Thank you so much to @marypsue for all the help!!!
———-
Everything around her was grey. The waving grass, the sky,
the small copse of pine trees (and single apple tree) in the distance, the
carpet she was laying on over the ground, the sun and butterflies… everything
was blessedly drained of color, and she existed only in a world of shades and
tints.It felt like a balm upon her soul, and Willow felt herself
begin to relax at last.Ever since Uncle Dipper had saved her life when she had
Auriga, her Sight had begun to grow stronger with each passing day. Stronger
and- she ground the heels of her palms into her eyes- harder to control. Every
day it took longer and longer for her to construct the mental shields that kept
the majority of others’ auras out of her head.Every day those shields seemed to crack and break easier and
easier, no matter what she and Uncle Dipper did.She curled up into as small as a ball as she could on her
blanket. Here she was no one’s mother, no one’s daughter, no one’s sister, no
one’s niece. No one’s protector. Here she was only Willow, and here she could
freak out as much as she liked about the slow dissolution of her way of life.
She tried to focus on the designs woven into the rug, how they sharpened in
detail near her body and faded away as they went to the edge.(how it was growing harder and harder to hold on to her
self, her being, harder to keep herself being washed away by the people around
her)Willow wasn’t usually one to wallow in self pity but a tear
trickled out of the corner of her eye. Uncle Dipper had no idea what to do, no
matter how much he lied to her that he was sure he’d come up with something.
She wasn’t scared of death but the destruction of her mind, of everything that
made her her–“Oi, what’re you doing laying on that rug? That thing could
be filthy for all you know.”
What has Durai been up to recently?
I haven’t forgotten about Durai, I promise. I’m currently working on something so lemme just post it here instead of as its own post lmao.
Just don’t forget that I have commissions open and am in need of money! 😀
The Rainbow Basher
Had another thought, this one for older Mabel who can’t go out to bash cults as much as she starts to get older, mainly due to pains and things from a lifetime of cult bashing. Probably realizing after one particular cult bashing that her back starts to ache and she’s not hitting as hard and she’s kind of down about getting old. So her kids decide to get her something special
A tricked out Pickup Truck; A large forward grill rammer, reinforced plate with enough heat resistant charm to power through a dragon’s breath, Dwarven made roll cage and engine, Rainbow Chrome Finish, also a little emergency button called Rainbow Road and Cupholders
And an emergency summoning circle in the bed of the pickup truck basically she might not be able to fight as well but now she can car bash through people.
The Rainbow Basher.
http://transcendence-au.tumblr.com/post/129904841107/rainbow-basher-mabels-new-ride
AN: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uZS0WIQI7UU this is the music I’m hearing for the last third of this fic. So for an enhanced experience, come back up and open this up when you get there. 😉
Mabel fell into the couch at the Library, and oof, even that hurt.
Getting older was the worst.
She hadn’t realized how it was creeping up on her, but she’d found a streak of grey in her hair last week (she’d brushed it off as a consequence of having three kids and a demon brother, then proceeded to tickle Dipper until he cried when he tried to tease her about it. He had streaks to match, now. Twins forever.).
But now…she knew she’d hit that cultist, but he hadn’t gone down with one hit like they used to, when she was younger. Yeah, she’d taken him out, but she was sore now, and her back was complaining at her in a way it hadn’t before.
Old wounds were starting to hurt, too, on rainy mornings, and she understood now why Grunkle Stan had so much trouble moving some mornings.
And it was only a month until her and Dipper’s next birthday. She’d wanted to do something big, a real blowout bash for turning fifty, it wasn’t that old!
okay but if Ford lives long enough to see the niblings grown up then what if he’s the ‘travelling grandpa’?? like the same way that Stan stays in Gravity Falls Ford travels around the world investigating how the Transcendence affected the once magic-free lands, probably getting in touch with various magical cultures and even (?) rising as a world-renowned preter scientist (who apparently’s been studying the supernatural long before the Transcendence happened). From time to time he goes back to Gravity Falls to visit his family, and this doubles also as a means of protecting them from too-prying eyes who’d notice if he lived there permanently. Of course, despite it all, it’s still Gravity Falls that feels like home. He probably has his own hand in the Pines becoming a semi-mythological name, with all his heroically-ridding-a-town-from-an-eldritch-monster-with-a-mixer-and-grinning-maniacally-at-the-result and other stunts around the world.
(Bonus points if Stan DID go with him monster-hunting for the first two years, but then decided to go back to Gravity Falls permanently for some reason or the other.)
(Further hc that he always leaves Gravity Falls with new sweaters, some bedazzled clothes and various drawings and presents the niblings made for him. Also up to date to the lattest gossip on Dumb Shit Dipper Has Done, some corrections on rumors he heard while traveling and new fascinating tidbits of information Dipper shared with him for a Snickers and a game of DD&MD like the nerds they are.)
(and further further hc that it doesn’t really sink in how bad Ford is at precaution and safety measures until he’s appointed as babysitter one time and the niblings almost get eaten by a mutated sandwich. Dipper becomes co-babysitter from then on, because apparently a literal demon is safer than an enthusiastic but forgetful scientist. It doubles as a bonding thing for the both of them.)
Also, please visualize Grunkle Ford talking about his adventures, both in Earth and in various other dimensions, to three starry-eyed redheads and one very amused (and sometimes downright sentimental) demon. (Dipper probably makes a deal at some point for visuals to go along with his grunkle’s retellings because danggg.)
Some transcendence au headcanons I might do something with in the future:
-Dipper playing with niblings trying to play fight him (I.e., kids going “rawr!” and attempting to rough house with him, think kittens and their parents) and he’s just giving them the most dramatic reactions (unnecessarily falling over, “oh no!! I’ve been attacked by a nibling, what ever will I do?!” etc). Bonus points if he has to keep up with more than one kid at once. Bonus bonus points if he names and announces their attacks as if they’re in a Pokemon battle.
-You know how some kids will work together to cover your eyes and try to get into stuff they’re not supposed to? Dipper is the best target, they think, until they realize he has his third eye open. He’s then considered a cheater at the “game,” but he’s not about to let one of the kids get hurt. But he’s also an uncle, so as long as it’s something harmless like candy he probably won’t stop them all of the time.
-The uncles have a secret scoreboard of who’s won or lost play fights with the kids, gotten them to laugh the most that week, etc. Imagine the guys hanging out with the bragging rights of that week being “well they made me a flower crown so that means I’ve broken the tie this week, gentlemen.” All in good fun. So Dipper, Stan, Ford, Soos, and possibly Robbie (I like that HC of him being a sort of brother figure to the twins). Maybe Gideon too, if he gets redeemed later after the whole Jeremiah thing. Goodness only knows what Dipper’s score is when Mabel finds out about it, but it’s probably something that ties in with his World’s Okayest Uncle sweater.
-Dipper keeps the scoreboard for a long time after everyone passes away as a reminder of the good things he can do. He makes a new one every time he winds up as someone’s uncle and he has another person to challenge, if the other party is up for it.
In the second century A.T., it was discovered that the soul is a quantifiable substance similar in nature to certain quantum particles. This discovery was predicated by the rise in demonology studies, and followed by a spate of related discoveries, not least among them the discovery that soul-matter, like any energy, can be neither created nor destroyed. The implications of this discovery rocked both scientific and religious communities, and the theory of multiple consecutive incarnation is still hotly debated to this day.
– History Transcended, Holman, Chopra & Meyer, 2472
…
You pass through the city centre every day on your way to work, so often that you’ve worn a groove in the sidewalks of this prairie metropolis you’ve always called home. By now the city’s nothing but background noise, the hum and pulse, the tide that drags you off the train and out of the station.
Today, though.
what if
what if it’s two, three years since the Stans have left and Soos loves being a business man, loves running a store, being his own boss but. But he misses fixing things, misses helping show people how to fix things.
and Melody gently suggests that there’s nothing wrong with wanting a change.
what if
sailing around the world on a boat with Ford is great, it’s fucking great, but also Stan surprises himself because he… he misses his home. He would have never called Gravity Falls his home before he left-
(don’t let him kid you Gravity Falls had long been his home. Let us say instead that he did not realize it until he left)
-but fuck if he didn’t miss his home, didn’t miss the Shack and the cold sea air makes his bones ache something fierce and he’s not ready to give up sailing with Ford yet, meeting babes and looking for gold and fighting monsters but-
(a call from Soos, two calls, five, and trying to reassure the younger man that no, he’s not mad, he doesn’t mind, asking what he had in mind-)
what if
Ford drops Stan off in Portland and Melody picks him up and they spend the car trip down to Gravity Falls telling dirty jokes and tall tales and the next day Stan watches and Does Not Cry as Soos and Melody cut the ribbon on the hardware store next to Big Gunz, definitely Isn’t Crying as Soos gives him a lifetime discount card
(he wanted to give him a lifetime free stuff card, but Melody pointed out that that went against everything Stan had taught him. This is true, Soos nods, and declines to mention to either of them that the card discounts everything to a buck)
what if
Stan moves back into the Shack, just for the winter, keep his hand in the game because Christ he’s missed conning suckers out of their cash, then it’s back to sea with Ford and
(the phone rings.
“Stan…can… can we come over?”
sure of course
“Can… can we come over forever?”
there’s crying in the background, a Presence that beats on the air and makes itself known even over the phone.)
He doesn’t return to the ocean that spring.
The soft sound of the door sliding along the ancient, greyish carpet made Mike jump in his seat, spinning to face the doorway and the intruder. A shapeless mass of about human height was silhouetted against the dim light from the hall, though before his eyes it shucked the upper half of its covering to reveal – his niece, bundled in a comforter with her thick reddish hair in one fat braid and rings of mascara residue around her eyes.
“Hey, nerd,” Alice yawned, stumbling into the study as Mike unwound. “Whatcha doin’ awake? It’s ass o’clock in the morning.”
Mike glanced down at the array of screens he’d set up so he could look at a runic dictionary, the Hierarchy of Demons, and his manuscript at the same time, and then at the digital display that proclaimed it to be two-twenty-four in the morning.
“Work,” he said. “Very important grown-up work. So important it can only be done while the children are asleep.”
Alice stuck out her tongue at him, her nose wrinkling up in a grin. She shuffled over to Mike’s desk, flopping across his shoulders and wrapping her comforter around them. The comforter, which was somewhat lumpy by daylight, somehow seemed to have magically transformed into the softest thing in the known world. Mike felt his head sinking back into it, and abruptly sat up straight, blinking furiously to keep his eyes open.
“You gotta sleep sometime,” Alice said, leaning over to peer, upside-down, into Mike’s eyes.
“What, is that a threat?”
Alice just laughed and extricated herself from Mike’s deskchair. She flapped the comforter like wings as she shuffled across the room, wrapping it tightly around herself again before she dropped bodily into the armchair beside the bookcase. She shuffled around for a moment, arranging herself so that nothing remained sticking out of the comforter, and stared at Mike’s ear. “I’m not leaving until you go to sleep.”
“Why are you awake, if -” Mike paused, his tired brain finally slotting the pieces together. “Nightmare?”
Alice blew a raspberry, one hand sneaking out from under her comforter cocoon to wave dismissively. “Pssssh. Like I’d come looking for you in the middle of the night just because I had a bad dream.” She didn’t make any move to leave the chair, however, and Mike couldn’t help a small smile.
“Suit yourself. Want to hear all about what I’m working on?” Mike couldn’t help another grin as he said, “I’m sure you’ll be asleep again in no time.”
“Ugh, only if you – sheesh, did you even take your leg off? Dude, you know that’s how you get rashes. And remember that one time when you got the stump infected because you insisted you were totally fine, it was just a little wade through the will-o’-wisp marshes, you barely got wet and you were just going to take a tiny nap -”
“Okay, that’s enough talking from you,” Mike said, pulling the tablet screen currently displaying his manuscript from the array on the desk and starting to read aloud. He’d barely made it through a sentence before the first glaring mistake leapt out at him. “Aw, man, did I seriously write ‘doorman’ instead of ‘demon’?”
Alice reached out to nudge his leg with her toes. “Told ya. Sleep.”
“Mm. I’m just gonna correct this first.” Mike’s eyes skimmed over the page, three more glaring errors springing out to smack him between the eyes as he did so. “And this. And this…”
The next time he looked up, Alice’s head was resting on her shoulder, a faint, intermittent snore emanating from her mouth. One of the flaps on her comforter cocoon had fallen open, and she gave a little shiver as one somnambulist hand groped for it.
Mike gently tucked the comforter back in around Alice, before settling back into his deskchair.
Before he turned back to his writing, though, he reached under the desk and unhooked his prosthetic leg.
I only meant to draw Henry reading but everyone else insisted on joining in.
We definitely need more pics of the Moose being happy with a book tho xD (Lord knows he deserves some quiet time after all we put him through)Acacia was reading to Stan at one point but they both agreed his stories were better. Also Mabel just washed the blankets and didn’t want to do more laundry so impromptu demon wing fort.
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