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Latest Posts by maztak - Page 3
The Forgotten Pines
👁️⃤
* ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚
The Mystery Shack was alive with the usual sounds of summer.
The front door jingled as tourists came and went, their voices blending into the background noise of the gift shop. Dipper was at the register, struggling to explain to a skeptical customer why the so-called “Real Bigfoot Toenail” was definitely authentic. Mabel was draped over the counter behind him, doodling in her journal and occasionally chiming in with exaggerated claims to boost sales.
Soos, humming to himself, was fixing a squeaky floorboard near the entrance while Wendy leaned against the doorway, idly twirling an ice pop between her fingers. It was, by all accounts, an ordinary afternoon in Gravity Falls.
Inside the living room, however, things were much quieter.
Stan lounged on the couch, flipping through TV channels with his usual dissatisfaction.
“Two hundred channels, and they’re all garbage,” he grumbled, clicking past an old western, a soap opera, and a conspiracy documentary narrated by a guy who definitely sounded like Ford.
Ford, seated nearby, barely acknowledged him, too engrossed in one of his notebooks. His brow was furrowed, his pen tapping absently against the page as he reviewed old calculations.
It had been a year since Bill Cipher’s defeat. A year since the Rift was sealed, the universe restored, and Ford had finally come home. For the first time in decades, life had slowed down. No interdimensional chaos. No apocalyptic threats. Just family.
And for the most part, it was… nice.
Until the ground shook.
The vibrations rattled the entire shack, making the overhead lamp sway and knocking a picture frame off the wall. The twins heard it from the gift shop, their heads snapping up in alarm.
“Uh… was that an earthquake?” Dipper asked, already reaching for his journal.
“Or a ghost earthquake,” Mabel suggested, eyes wide with intrigue. “Which, statistically, is way less likely, but way more fun!”
Before they could speculate further, a faint blue light seeped between the floorboards, pulsing like a slow heartbeat.
Ford froze.
His breath hitched as his gaze shot toward the basement door.
Stan noticed. His brother had the exact same expression he’d had the day they first activated the portal.
“…Oh no.” Ford’s voice was barely a whisper.
Then, without another word, he bolted.
“Hey! What the heck is going on?” Stan barked, scrambling off the couch. But Ford was already halfway to the basement.
Dipper and Mabel exchanged glances. That was definitely not a good sign.
“C’mon!” Dipper grabbed Mabel’s wrist, dragging her along as they chased after the two older men.
Ford practically threw open the basement door, his heart hammering. His stomach twisted as he took the stairs two at a time.
Please don’t let it be what I think it is.
But the moment his feet hit the basement floor, his worst fear was confirmed.
The portal was active.
The impossible blue glow bathed the room in eerie light, reflecting off the rusted machinery that hadn’t been touched in over a year. It should have been destroyed. It should have been gone.
And yet—
A figure stepped through.
They moved slowly, deliberately, as if unused to solid ground. A thick, tattered cloak clung to their thin frame, hood pulled low over their face. Their boots—patched and worn from years of use—scuffed softly against the concrete as they took another step forward.
Stan and the others arrived just in time to see them emerge fully.
The tension in the room thickened. The air felt wrong.
Then the figure raised their head—
And Stan’s heart nearly stopped.
The hood fell back just enough to reveal a familiar, shaggy mullet, streaked with premature gray. Haunted, chocolate-brown eyes flickered between them, distant yet hyper-aware, like a cornered animal assessing its surroundings. Their posture was stiff, defensive, shoulders hunched slightly inward.
They weren’t just thin. They were scarred.
Burns, jagged and cruel, peeked out from the frayed edges of their gloves. The faint outline of an autopsy scar was just barely visible beneath their turtleneck.
But worst of all…
The jagged, glowing marks around their wrists and throat.
Stan swayed slightly, feeling like he’d been punched in the gut.
“…Lee?”
The name barely made it past his lips, his voice raw and disbelieving.
Ford was silent, his entire body frozen in place.
At the sound of his name, Stanlee flinched.
His hands twitched, one instinctively moving toward his forearm, where an old tattoo was partially hidden beneath his sleeve. His fingers pressed against it—an old grounding habit, though his hand still shook.
His breathing was too fast. The glow of the portal cast shifting shadows across his face, making it hard to tell if he was trembling from exhaustion or from something deeper.
Then—a flash of movement.
A photon pistol was in his hand before anyone could react, the barrel leveled directly at Stan and Ford.
Everyone froze.
“WHOA, HEY—OKAY!” Stan threw his hands up immediately. “Easy there, runt!”
Ford’s heart clenched. The way Stanlee held the weapon—his grip too tight, his stance unsteady—it wasn’t aggression. It was fear.
“Lee,” Ford said carefully, keeping his hands where Stanlee could see them. “It’s us. Stanley and Stanford. Your brothers.”
Stanlee didn’t lower the gun.
His shoulders shook. His fingers twitched. His breathing was too fast.
The blue light of the portal flickered across his face, illuminating something new—
The faintest glisten of tears.
“…I can’t trust this,” Stanlee rasped. His voice was barely there, hoarse from years of disuse, but the raw emotion in those few words shattered something inside Ford.
Stanlee’s hand shook violently.
Then—
“…You can trust us,” Mabel’s voice, softer than usual, cut through the thick tension.
Stanlee’s eyes darted toward the source—two teenagers. One with an earnest, hopeful expression. The other, a young man with hesitant but intelligent eyes, scanning him carefully, as if trying to understand him.
They weren’t illusions. They weren’t tricks.
They were just kids.
Real kids.
His grip on the gun loosened. His posture sagged, years of exhaustion crashing into him all at once.
The pistol slipped from his fingers.
And the moment it hit the ground—
Stanlee collapsed.
Stanford managed to catch his little brother before Lee could hit the floor
Stan quickly moved to support him as well, gripping his brother’s shoulders firmly, grounding him.
Stanlee trembled violently. His fingers curled into the fabric of Ford’s coat, his breath coming in sharp, broken gasps.
“Don’t leave me again,” he whispered, the plea barely audible. “Please…”
Stan’s face crumpled “Aw, kid…” He pulled him in, his grip fierce but careful. “We ain’t goin’ anywhere. You’re home, Lee. You’re home.”
As much as I lovelovelove Mystery Trio AUs- these three unhinged men should NEVER spend any amount of time together in their prime if you want any peace and quiet.
Someone merely mentions the ides of stealing *something* from a government facility? Stan's warming up the El Diablo that he's already taken the tags off; Ford somehow already has the blueprints to the building and Fiddleford has a handheld lock picking device that also knocks out the signal on surveillance cameras.
Ford finds it logical to use essentially chemical warfare on the guards they didn't know would be patrolling as he blows idk, fairy dust, in their faces. Stan notices that several of his personas' wanted posters are up in an office and he stuffs them in a paper shredder as they walk by not because he is embarrassed but because they weren't even good artist renditions of what he looked like. Fiddleford of course finds alien tech that the government officials are testing and pockets in, knowing it will come in handy for his next giant robot.
As they head back to the Shack Stan jokingly suggests knocking over a bank and Fiddleford nonchalantly says they don't need to, he built a printing press the other week. Ford nods, as if this is a completely reasonable response and Stan has never felt closer to his brother.
billford animatic i made to the song 'confrontation'! ^^
Well i made this before Guard Fiddleford came into play to which I gave Guard Ford an emotional support cat for company….her name is Digit she loves cuddles but she is very sassy
This Ford belongs to @skeptiql
“Over here we have our latest experiment C1TR4 they are a humanoid cyborg feline, they have Enhanced vision (night vision and thermal sensors). Retractable claws capable of cutting through metal. Superhuman agility and reflexes. Hidden compartments in their robotic limbs for tools or weapons.” The scientist would bang on the glass to get C1TR4 away from the window “I apologize for the bothersome noise they are making a few volts should keep them quiet.”
Crimson Collapse- the story behind Bakon’s scars
Trigger warning: gore and mentions of death
Setting: a few days before Stanford reached out to Stan.
(Old artwork at the end)
The job should have been simple—a quick in-and-out heist in a crumbling old building said to house a fortune in abandoned goods. Bakon and his crew had scoped the place out for weeks, but on that fateful night, things fell apart in the worst way imaginable. The building, far more unstable than they had planned for, became a death trap.
The air inside was heavy with the stench of mildew and decay, the faint sound of dripping water echoing through the silence. Bakon moved cautiously, his flashlight flickering against the cracked plaster walls and rusted pipes that jutted out like jagged teeth. He could feel the structure groaning under its own weight, the faint tremor of instability rippling through the floor beneath his boots.
Then it happened.
The ceiling gave way in an instant, unleashing a hellish cacophony of splintering wood and screeching metal. Bakon didn’t even have time to scream. A massive beam crashed down, driving him to the ground as his legs folded unnaturally beneath him with a sickening snap. The impact knocked the air from his lungs, and he let out a ragged gasp as sharp debris rained down, tearing into his flesh. A jagged piece of rusted rebar impaled him clean through the abdomen, bursting out of his back with a wet, nauseating sound.
The pain was beyond anything he had ever experienced—an excruciating, fiery agony that sent shockwaves through his entire body. Blood poured from the wound in heavy gushes, pooling beneath him in a sticky, crimson puddle. He tried to move, but the weight of the debris was crushing him. His ribs bent unnaturally inward, cracked and splintered like broken glass stabbing into his lungs.
Bakon’s cries for help were hoarse and broken, each breath a struggle as blood filled his mouth. His flashlight had fallen to the ground, illuminating his twisted, mangled body in cruel detail. He could see the jagged bone of his shin protruding through torn flesh, the white stark against the red. His hands, trembling and pale, weakly clawed at the rubble pinning him down, but it was no use.
Minutes dragged into hours, and Bakon’s screams turned to whimpers, then silence. The blood loss was making him lightheaded, his vision darkening at the edges as he slipped in and out of consciousness. The cold, metallic tang of blood filled his mouth as he coughed weakly, spitting out a thick, congealed glob that stained the ground beside him.
He called for the others—desperate, pleading cries that echoed through the empty corridors—but no one came. His crew had abandoned him, fleeing the moment the collapse started. Even Stanley, the one person he trusted, was nowhere to be found. Alone in the suffocating darkness, Bakon’s thoughts grew frantic. Anguish and rage churned within him, mixing with the raw, primal terror of death creeping closer.
When they finally found him, Bakon was barely alive. His skin was pale and waxy, his lips blue, and his body convulsed weakly as his pulse flickered on the edge of nothingness. They rushed him to the hospital, the paramedics’ voices a distant murmur in his ears. He could feel their hands on him, the searing pain as they moved the rebar from his side, and the choking sensation of a tube being shoved down his throat.
In the operating room, his body gave out. His heart stopped, and for over an hour, Bakon was dead.
Death was not a peaceful void for him. It was cold, dark, and suffocating. Time warped, stretching into an infinite expanse of emptiness where Bakon felt the weight of his failures crushing him all over again. The silence was maddening, his own thoughts clawing at him like feral beasts. He was utterly alone, trapped in a limbo that felt like an eternity.
And then, against all odds, he was pulled back.
When Bakon woke, his body was a patchwork of scars and pain. Tubes snaked out of his arms, his chest, his throat. His legs were in heavy casts, and every shallow breath sent a sharp, burning pain through his shattered ribs. His face was gaunt, pale, and his sunken eyes stared blankly at the hospital ceiling.
The weeks that followed were a nightmare of their own. The physical therapy was brutal, each session leaving him sobbing in pain. His hands trembled as he tried to grasp a spoon, the simplest tasks requiring monumental effort. The rebar had shredded vital nerves, leaving parts of his body unresponsive, numb yet searing with phantom pain.
Worse still was the isolation. No one came to see him. He lay in that sterile room day after day, the hum of machines his only company. He thought of Stanley often, the bitterness festering in his chest. Stanley had abandoned him, left him to die, and now Bakon was trapped in this ruined shell of a body with nothing but his anger to keep him going.
Months later, when he finally left the hospital, Bakon was unrecognizable. His once-proud posture was hunched, his gait stiff and uneven as he limped out into the world. The scars on his face and body told the story of his suffering in jagged lines, and his eyes were cold, hollow, and filled with a simmering hatred.
Bakon had been given a second chance at life, but to him, it was no gift. It was a curse. And as he walked into the cold night, his mind turned dark with thoughts of vengeance. If the world had left him to rot, he would return the favor tenfold. And Stanley… Stanley the young man he loved will pay the price for abandoning him.
one off gag from my notes
that goddamn pig
God he is so girl dad coded! I love them so much 🥰 ❤️😊
Well here is a small sneak peek into my Childhood Bites au! And the main star of the show is my oc Ezekiel “Zeke” Cutter Stan and Ford’s childhood best friend
You can keep them if you like or do whatever im officially giving these guys to you to do with what you will, but im glad you like them! Oh and the cosmic snake is a girl while the bone serpent doesn’t really have a gender but will answer to whatever you call it.
And the bone serpent is about 15 foot long while the cosmic snake is about 6 foot long
Mmmmm you know what fuck it! *Gives Dee a red cosmic snake and Ronnie a bone serpent* have fun boys and take good care of them!
this is so cool!!!
Sooo I have two Gravity Falls au ideas for an ask blog and im having a hard time picking one so with out going into too much detail of it but I will say both will have an Oc insert I want y’alls opinion on which one I should do (also the detail is in the titles everyone)
A light hue of red dusted across the teens freckled cheeks as he looks away feeling a little embarrassed “Ah r-right its just i have never met anyone else with the same condition as me well except for the heterochromia thing.” It seemed Asher would avoid making eye contact with Stanford when he spoke along with seeming to fidget with his lose sweater sleeve “Its a great honor to meet you Ford, I know I probably seem like some dumb kid and maybe i’m being too straight forward but it means a lot to me to have found someone like you I don’t really have anyone and while my sketches, journaling, and paranormal investigations keep me company it does get rather lonely…” as he spoke he seemed to realize that he has been rambling and probably saying too much to someone he just met “Ah geez I’m rambling aren’t I?” Asher awkwardly adjusts the collar of his sweater to which Ford would probably notice right away the jagged scar on the teens left hand.
(Please ignore my last ask I was wayyy too excited lol, anyways this is Asher the teenager I was talking about.)
“Hi! I heard that someone had Polydactylism like me I almost couldn’t believe it, I thought I was the only one! Especially with my mix of 6 and 7 fingers.”
"Ah, greetings!"
"Well… this is certainly a surprise! I knew polydactyly wasn’t exactly uncommon, but to encounter someone with a similar trait— that’s… quite remarkable!"
Alright got both of them done! I know i sent one in your ask but I wanted to post these, I’ll stop bombarding you now @gfthe-fearsome-foursome 😅
Hope you are having a wonderful day/night/evening
Just a fun school project i did a long ass time ago of Narrator from The Boys, i know it’s not Gravity Falls but i thought why not post it
The fourteen year old would smile as he puts his hands in his pockets out of reflex “Remarkable? Gosh I have never heard that before. Oh my name is Asher by the way but you can call me Ash!” He seemed rather excited to finally meet someone who doesn’t see him as a freak or know him for being girl maybe this could be a fresh start for him finally make a friend “Oh uh sorry I uh I didn’t catch your name guess I was too excited.” he would nervously rub the back of his neck giving a sheepish smile
(Thats if you want to keep going with this @gfthe-fearsome-foursome)
(Please ignore my last ask I was wayyy too excited lol, anyways this is Asher the teenager I was talking about.)
“Hi! I heard that someone had Polydactylism like me I almost couldn’t believe it, I thought I was the only one! Especially with my mix of 6 and 7 fingers.”
"Ah, greetings!"
"Well… this is certainly a surprise! I knew polydactyly wasn’t exactly uncommon, but to encounter someone with a similar trait— that’s… quite remarkable!"
My favorite headcannon what we all collectively agree on is that Stanford purrs, he just the best and deserves some love after all the suffering he has been through. 🥰🥹
𝓢ᵒ๓ᵉｲђιɴ𝘨ꮥ wrᴏ𝗇Ꮆ…
This lovely piece was inspired by this song:
Yay I’m so glad you like him! He was really fun to draw, I might do one with him and Fiddleford later because I need some Fiddlestan in my life
@gfthe-fearsome-foursome
*manifests in front of you shoves this in your hands and vanishes into thin air*
Seriously though i love this blog and i love your art-style! And i hope i did Stanley justice i tried my best to make him exact, anyways i hope you have or are having a wonderful day.
Ooc: I LOVE HIM??? THANK YOU SO MUCH WOW! He looks amazing AWWW-
Ooc: Honestly thank you omg this means so much to me
This guy was a fun concept and i love him deeply his name is Bakonis Kerrigan he is…or was a close friend to Stanley when they were teenagers back when Stan was kicked out of the house they did heists together, conned many people, etc but one day after an accident that left Bakonis in the hospital hoping to have his best friend there for support Stan just vanished(that was when Stan got the letter from Stanford.) and left Bakon behind.
Here is teenage Bakonis before his accident he was your local drug dealer and at the time Stanley was his best customer it’s honestly how they met, now your probably wondering whats in the box well if you don’t pay up for the drugs or fulfill your end of the bargain you repay with your limbs mostly small things like your fingers, eyes, and teeth. Bakonis doesn’t play around when it comes to his jobs either pay him or lose a limb it’s your choice.
Anyways my asks are open feel free to ask this lovely gentleman many questions. :)
