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polyshipweek · 1 year

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One Month to Polyship Week!

Expanded Prompts: Day 1–2

April 16 & 17

Road Trip: Send your polycule on a journey! This could be a literal road trip — car snacks, squabbles over the aux cable, weird roadside attractions — or something more fantastic. "Road" trip in space? Sailing around the world? Four metamours on a quest to find their missing shared partner? Maybe you wanna draw the squad flying down the highway while crammed into a minivan! Go wherever the road (or the prompt) takes you!

Sedoretu: Maybe you're a long-time Ursula Le Guin fan, or maybe you just read some sedoretu fic or bemusedlybespectacled's primer and got inspired — either way, assign some moieties and see what happens. You can play it straight or mix it up: Maybe your characters are the "wrong" genders or moieties to form a sedoretu. Maybe your polycule has too many members to fit the pattern. Maybe they're a Morning couple looking for a set of lavender marriages with a nice Evening couple. Have fun with this classic framework!

5+1 Things: A classic fanfic trope that lends itself especially well to polyship shenanigans! 5 different dates + 1 group night in, perhaps. Or how about five times Character A got pranked + one time they pranked the rest of the polycule? This trope also pairs well with an Outsider POV — something like 5 times Character A saw their crush kissing someone + 1 time they got a kiss!

Visual Prompt — OT3 Pose Meme: Aren't mcnuggyy's poses just the cutest? Draw one or combine a few or tell us the story of how your polycule got into this position. Remember to tag @/mcnuggyy when you share your creations!

Huddling for Warmth: Another classic trope that's even better polyam style! Perhaps they've gotten trapped in an ice cave on a dangerous expedition. Or they could be getting cozy in a Canadian shack as a surprise blizzard rolls through. Or maybe there's just that one member of the polycule who always seems to be freezing. Whatever the case, bundle those blorbos up!

Second Chances: Get your heartstrings ready for tugging with this prompt! What happens when your partner's new partner is a familiar face? How does the squad support Character A when that person who broke their heart blows back into their life? Whether it's a breakup-makeup story, a surprise encounter with an old flame, or a missed connection that comes back around, this prompt is all about how your polyship navigates trying to start again.

Missing Scene / Epilogue: Sometimes canon just leaves the perfect amount of space for a story. Whether it's a moment of intimacy, a messy argument, or a hilarious and heartwarming get-together, this prompt asks the questions: What happened when the narrative wasn't looking? And what comes after happily ever after?

Visual Prompt — View from Above: Are they posing for pictures, or exhausted after a battle, or maybe out stargazing? It doesn't have to be this exact stock photo pose, just give us a bird's-eye view of the crew!

The ao3 collection is now open for submissions, and we'll start revealing the fics on April 16! We'll be watching the #PolyshipWeek23 hashtags, and you can also @ us when you post for reblogs and retweets. Remember that text prompts can be art prompts and visual prompts can be story prompts — whatever inspires you, we can't wait to see what you come up with!

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#polyshipweek23 #polyship week 2023 #polyamory prompts #writing prompts #art prompts #multifandom events #polyshipweek23 day 1 #polyshipweek23 day 2

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unculturedmamoswine · 1 year

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Gravity Falls Fic: Call on Me

My fic for day 2 of @polyshipweek! The prompt I chose was second chances. It’s a Ford/Fidds/Emma-May fic set when Ford calls Fidds for help on the portal. Emmy has another idea. You can read it under the cut or on AO3 here.

Bill doesn’t like it, but it has to be Fiddleford. Ford’s finally made his muse see the wisdom of bringing in someone with Fiddleford’s talents. Much as he’d like to say that he’s capable of designing and building a poly-dimensional meta-vortex on his own, he has to admit that, really, he can’t. “And, no offense, Bill but it seems like you can’t, either,” Ford had pointed out. “Unless you have a depth of mechanical knowledge you haven’t revealed to me yet?” he added, half-hopefully.

Bill had laughed ruefully and scratched his head (the tip of his body under the hat, rather.) “Yeah, yeah, you got me there, IQ. Go ahead and call your buddy. But keep me under your hat, got it?” For a dramatic exit from Ford’s mindscape, Bill had squeezed himself into a tiny fraction of his usual size and disappeared into his own hat, which then popped out of existence, allowing Ford to wake up and stare at his ceiling until light crept through his window.

That had been five days ago. Ford hasn’t heard from Bill in that time, and so hasn’t had anything to distract him from his anxiously churning thoughts.

What will I say? What will he say? What do I say if Emma-May answers the phone? Should I ask to speak to her if she doesn’t? What if their son answers the phone? Do (whatever age he is) aged children answer phones? Did Stanley and I ever get the phone when we were children? Maybe Shermie answers the phone at home. I should call Mom and Dad and see if he answers.

“Look,” he tells himself in the mirror one afternoon. “You’re just going to have to do it.” Ford drags the razor across his jaw. “You’ve reached the point of shaving to avoid talking to Fiddleford and Emma-May again,” he points out. “So you know you’re being cowardly. If you want to achieve anything in your life, you have to be willing to face your fears.”

Ford rinses his face and gives himself a stern nod in the mirror. He’s right. He should listen to himself.

Ford makes the call in his office, hoping the professional atmosphere will keep him grounded. It’s been years. He’s a grown adult now, he reasons. He’s surely over his bizarre youthful experimentation stage, and over any lingering hurt feelings over any breakups that might have resulted in Ford moving alone to Oregon and Fiddleford and Emma-May getting married and settling down. In the last couple of years, he’s been better able to look back fondly on his… relationship time with Emma-May and Fiddleford. He used to try to avoid thinking of them as much as possible. He couldn’t say he resented them; their parting of ways was mutual, after all. But he couldn’t say he was entirely sanguine about them, either.

Ford makes the call in his office, hoping the setting will make this feel like a professional interaction. He paces like a dog on his short leash, twisting the phone cord in his fingers. He fits each finger of his free hand in between the tightly curled spirals of the cord, and thinks suddenly of Emmy’s– of Emma-May’s hair on the days she took the time to do it. It curled almost as tightly, those times. The rest of the time her hair was much like Ford’s– an unhappy medium between curly and frizzy, usually settling into fluffy on days she didn’t wash it. They used to sigh about it together when they were alone and Fiddleford wasn’t around to tease them.

He’s jostled out of his memory when the ringing stops. His stomach drops sharply, but that’s nothing new, not specific to this situation. It’s always unpleasant when someone he’s calling actually picks up.

“Hello, Fiddleford Computermajigs.” A very large portion of Stanford’s nervousness curls up and withers away as if it had never been. It’s Fiddleford, after all. Just Fiddleford, who Ford has always been able to talk to. He grins and shakes his hand free of the phone cord.

“Fiddleford, it’s Stanford Pines. It’s been a long time, I know, but I was calling because I was hoping you’d help me with some work I’ve been doing. I’ve hit a roadblock.” Fiddleford stays silent while Ford explains what he’s doing and what he hopes Fiddleford will be able to help him with. When Ford is done, all Fiddleford says is that Ford’s idea is ‘mathematically feasible,’ thank god. (Both thank god that Fiddleford doesn’t need convincing that it could work and thank god that he’s still the same old Fidds and is instantly invested in an interesting problem, rather than any pesky emotions either of them could be feeling.)

“It’d be a real treat to come up north and help you out with your project, Stanford!” he says, with perfect sincerity. “What number are ya callin’ from? I’ll talk to Emmy about it and call you right back.”

Ford gives Fiddleford the relevant information and hangs up, monumentally relieved.

Buoyed up by the idea that Fiddleford will be here sometime soon, Ford launches into some work regarding recent magnetic field disturbances for some fun. He thinks it’s probably just Crash Site Omega acting up, but without making the trip out there he can’t be sure. For a while he is thrilled to realize that whatever is going on is also causing faintness, weakness, and shortness of breath, but sadly, the feelings go away once he’s had lunch.

Once one PM rolls around, it starts to occur to Ford that Fiddleford is taking an awfully long time. Would Emma-May have told him he shouldn’t go? In a way it would make sense. How many wives would want their husbands spending extended time alone with an ex, even if it was a mutual ex? She hadn’t seemed angry or resentful when they’d last seen each other; she’d hugged him and cried, but hadn’t yelled or thrown anything.

Ford, sweating in the heat, opens his refrigerator door to stand in the cool. Rather than worry over things he can’t influence, he forces himself to list his least favorite professors from Backupsmore, starting with the worst and moving on to the most tolerable. When the phone rings he springs to answer it.

“Hello, this is Stanford Pines.”

Click. Great, another prank call. He gets them very rarely, but it does happen.

Now he has to wait around again. Ford angrily hangs up the phone, and then jumps into the air when the phone rings again immediately. He yanks the handset off the receiver.

“Hello?” he demands, sounding like an angry recluse even to his own ears.

“Hi, Stanford, it’s Emmy. Heard you needed Fiddlford for something up in Oregon? You’re still in Gravity Falls?”

“Yes,” Ford says automatically. How did it not occur to him that Emmy might be the one to call back? “I can’t think of anyone better suited to help me with my work. At least, the work I’m doing, uh, at the moment.” He chuckles nervously.

“Well, I think it’s a great idea,” she says easily, with a determinedly casual air that Ford recognizes at once. It’s the cool, easy demeanor she adopts when she’s about to say something outrageous that she wants to trick people into going along with. “I’m gonna come, too, I think. And Tate, of course, he’ll love gettin’ to run around and get some fresh air. How’re the schools up there, d’you know?”

“Well, fairly bad, I think, but, Emma-May,” Ford stammers. He takes a breath to organize his thoughts as quickly as he can. It’s an absurd idea, and she knows it. “All three of you can’t come up here for an undetermined amount of time, surely? Fiddleford said his own work can wait, but don’t you work for the city?”

“I was thinkin’ I might take some time off soon.”

“Ah. I suppose then I can see why you might not want Fiddleford gone,” Ford says slowly.

“So you see why it makes so much sense for us all three to come see you,” she persists. “Fiddy shouldn’t be the only one who gets a vacation.”

“I’ll pay him!” Ford squawks indignantly. “I’m not asking–”

“I know it, Ford, I’m kidding!” Emmy laughs, her deep, hoarse voice gently teasing.

“Emmy, I have a lot of work to do,” Ford tells her, trying to hide his frustration. “Fiddleford and I, if he comes, will be very busy.”

“And if I don’t come, we’ll be all alone here anyway, Ford, Tate’n me,” she points out. “If, up in Oregon, you two spend all your wakin’ hours building a time machine or whatever, I won’t be any more by myself than I would be here.” She hesitates. “Look, Fiddy agrees. It’s been too long since we’ve seen you. We’d like to catch up. You oughta meet Tate.”

Ford has no idea (except that he does, a very stupid and wrong idea that he won’t entertain) why he ought to meet Fiddleford and Emma-May’s son. He’s never even seen a photo of the boy.

“I’m sure he’s great,” Ford says weakly. “But.” He can’t tell her that he’s trying not to want to see her, that wanting to see Fidds again was already so much. He can’t tell Emma-May that Bill wouldn’t like it if Fidds brought his whole family along to distract from their work. He can’t say that Gravity Falls is beautiful and anomalous in the way he’d always dreamed, in a way that she could appreciate for the wildness and strangeness, while Fidds would value it for its wealth of scientific oddities. Couldn’t possibly tell her that they’d both love the small town full of outdoorsy people that Ford hasn’t gotten to know, but that they undoubtedly would, given half a chance.

He couldn’t ever say to Emma-May that he can see her and Fiddleford living in Ford’s little town as clearly as he sees the gnomes that steal his trash can lids.

Emmy takes a breath, clearly planning to carry on with her campaign, but Ford, suddenly feeling decidedly weak-willed, interrupts.

“You’re right. You’re right. I have no idea how long I’ll need Fiddleford, so… yes, fine. All three of you. Come to Gravity Falls,” Ford is grinning foolishly. He always could be talked into any old crazy scheme, given the right circumstances and light persuasion.

He’ll probably regret it, and Bill won’t be happy, and he may possibly be miserable when Fidds and Emmy leave again, but why not? Why not do something slightly crazy? He doesn’t have much time left before he becomes a household name and he won’t be able to get away with this kind of silly, emotionally-driven decision.

“Great! Oh, Ford, that's great. I can’t wait to see you! Fiddleford and me have got some things to sort out down here, but how about I have Fiddy call you tomorrow and we’ll let you know when we’ll be there?”

“That sounds great, Em.” Ford can’t believe that he’s standing alone in his kitchen, blushing because a girl wants to come over. “I can’t wait.”

#my fic #gravity falls #ford/fidds/em #polyshipweek23 #polyshipweek day 2 #second chances

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