I've noticed that in this story, my main POV has been Ford. Maybe it's just easier for me to write his personality. But just to change things up a little, here's a try at Stan. Hopefully it's in character.

Stan stormed, as best he could while wearing fluffy blue slippers, down the stairs, past the den, out onto the front porch, and ended up flopping onto the sofa that was set up there (any passerby who might be grossed out at seeing an old guy in his underwear sitting on the porch could just deal with it, as far as he was concerned).

As he made himself comfortable, whatever anger was left in his system fizzled out, and he sagged forward, resting his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands.

This was why he hated telling the truth.

It always left him feeling raw inside, and hollow, like his guts had been torn out with a meat hook (which had nearly happened to him once-long story). All his dark, slimy secrets and the pain that went with them were dragged out of hiding, and it felt horrible.

After a few deep breaths, he was able to lift his head and clean his now-smudged glasses on the front of his undershirt. Then he nestled his chin back into the spot made by his hands, and stared bleakly out at the forest in front of him.

Stan Pines didn't think of himself as a sentimental man. He was far too aware of life's harsh reality to think about things like the beauty of delicate pink flowers or whatever.

But whether he admitted it or not...he loved Gravity Falls.

It was the first place after Glass Shard Beach that he'd been able to call home, and where he could actually stay in a house and sleep in a bed and eat hot meals and not have everyone actively trying to kill him.

Sure, people didn't 'like' or 'trust' him here, but that didn't stop them from buying his merchandise and checking out his exhibits over and over, and that was good enough, right?

It was all he needed to feel happy and fulfilled-or at least it was what he deserved to have, which was close enough.

Right?

And then the kids had come for the summer, and been so lively and curious and always getting into trouble, and while that dredged up painful memories it was kind of in a good way, and it encouraged him to get that stupid portal fixed so he could get the rest of his family back, and the shack felt even more like home.

But now he was gonna lose it all again.

Because if Stanford wanted him to close down the Mystery Shack, it wasn't likely he'd be able to get a job anywhere else in town, and besides, how could he continue to stay in the same place as his brother who didn't want him around? He wasn't that much of a masochist.

But where could he possibly go?

Sure, he'd managed to get by traveling around the country for ten years on his own, but back then he'd had two things he didn't now: youth, and a purpose.

Stan let his thoughts drift away, and just watched the trees without really seeing them.

He lost track of time, and barely even noticed his back starting to protest being stuck in this position for so long.

Eventually, though, he heard the sound of footsteps clomping towards the door.

Footsteps that were too heavy for the twins or Wendy, and not clumsy enough to be Soos.

Stan closed his eyes and sighed.

Great. Just great.

For those of you who might be curious, here is the Evitceles Truth Spell. Yes, I am that big of a nerd. And proud of it.

Here's one version, forcing one person to speak nothing but truth.

Pqfofmp qxbod L,

Ezrj llq pbfi illc pfeq.

Mlqp jfe bhxj bpxbim

Qrl kory pbiakxz beq ifqkr qpxbi qx.

Bcfi pfe kfro lq qkxt qkla F.

And here is the other version, for two or more people and limiting them to only having to be truthful to each other.

Pqfofmp qxbod L,

Qrl kolt lq pbrppf bjlp pxe mrlod biqqfi pfeq.

Bzkbppb ofbeq rlv obccl F.

Obeql ezxb lq paolt ofbeq bhxj

Px dkli px olc eqroq qry dkfeqlk

Kory pbiakxz bpbeq.