#80's stanford pines

[modist07]

Doodles

[alex69rockwell]

pose practice! they are drunk and happy as hell

stanford doesnt have any special shirts for such moments with F so he keeps his usual and boring blue one, also he stole F's tie!!! did you see this ??? robbery in broad daylight,sheesh

[mooooonnnzz]

Dad!ford head canons plzzz

Who Knows How Long I Loved You

Stanford Pines x child/teen!reader

✧ stanford raising you from baby to teen!

✧ takes place in the 80's so its young stanford

✧ gender neutral reader!

✧ 3,1k words

✧ i got so carried away with writing that i deviated from hc and made it to a full blown story so i had to cut it

✧ there will be a part2 and it's gonna be angsty!!

✧ requests are still open!

❤︎ Rapid eager knocks resounded in his shack. Ford jolted awake, completely lost in a sleepy haze. He looked around hurriedly as he slowly woke up, eyes blinking slowly. He let out a low groan as he ran a hand down his face. His hand stopped halfway to get caught in a piece of paper that stuck to his cheek. He grimaced in disgust. He was probably drooling in his sleep and made the mistake to fall asleep on his paperwork. Ripping off the paper off his cheek, he leans back in his chair. With sleep still clouding his mind, he forgot about the knocks on his door. That was until another chorus of knocks rang out. Throwing his head back, he sighed a long sigh. Standing up from his chair, he stumbled out of his office while adjusting his glasses that were lopsided on his face.

❤︎ Approaching the front door, he swung it open. The harsh cold wind of December swooped in the shack. A chill ran down Ford’s body as he hugged himself for warmth. “Hello?” He called out, looking out into the white beyond in search of the person who was knocking on his door. To his surprise, there was no one there. Only footprints that were deeply embedded into the snow that lead out into the woods. Shrugging, Ford began to close the door. A quiet coo of a baby reached Ford’s ear and he abruptly stopped moving. Peeking his head out of the door, his eyes trailed down to his porch and there laid a little baby wrapped in a thin cloth. His mouth hung open in shock. Who would leave a baby out in the middle of a snowstorm? Taking another look around the shack, he couldn’t find or see anyone near. Kneeling down to the floor, he pushed the door to open it a little more. He reached out for the baby slowly. He was so unsure of whatever was happening to him. What is going on? Where is the mother of this child? Who would dare to abandon a baby? Nonetheless, this deep into the woods!

❤︎ His grabs onto the baby and awkwardly shuffles them around his arms. For one last final time, he looks around to again find no one. Closing the door, he looked down to the baby that was cradled in his arms. The baby gave a toothless smile to Ford and his heart melted right then and there. Shaking his head, he told himself he wasn’t going to get attached to you. He had no time to take care of a child and with his line of work, it would be too dangerous as well.

❤︎ That night, he spent his time scanning a book that was filled with every resident’s of Gravity Falls phone number, dialing each number. He asked around, wondering if anyone was in search of a missing baby. Each call led him nowhere. Everyone either had no clue on what he was talking about or didn’t even bother to answer his call. He slammed the phone back down on the receiver, cursing under his breath. Taking care of a child, especially a baby is tough work and Ford wasn’t going to leave this baby on another person’s porch. Rubbing his temples with his thumbs, he could feel the starting aches of a headache brew inside his skull. This is going to stunt his research. Walking over to his room, he saw the baby sleeping peacefully on his bed. “Are babies even allowed to sleep on a bed like this?” He asks himself. Seeds of doubt and concern began to grow in his head and before he knew it, he was researching absolutely everything about taking care of a child.

❤︎ Ultimately, he made the decision to keep you. He trusted no one to take care of you and the only person who was suited to take care of you was your mother and she abandoned you on his doorstep, which practically left him no other choice but to take you in as his own. The first few months were extremely taxing on him. He thought he’d be able to leave and finally take his research outside of the shack once the winter bled into spring, but it was like you knew when he left, because the moment he stepped out of the shack; you were bursting into tears. Your heartbroken sobs could be heard all around the woods! And feeding you was another task, he didn’t know what foods to properly feed you since he had no baby food stocked up in his shelves. He would’ve gone out to get some if it wasn’t for the horrid snowstorm that encased him inside. He resorted to feeding you bland mash potatoes, which took you awhile to warm up to. There many times where you slapped away his hand, splattering potato goo all over the walls. But once the spoon entered your mouth, you were suddenly crazy about the potatoes. Even seeing Ford making the potatoes made you babble excitedly. That held you over and once the winter was over, he was able to go out and get you baby food. Although, he had to get a baby carrier and hoist you on his chest once he learned you hated being left alone.

❤︎ There’d be nights where he would lie awake in his bed, thoughtlessly staring up at the ceiling. The only noise that was heard in his room was the soft deep breaths you took in your sleep and the occasional creek of your crib that Ford rocked with his hand. He laid there, basking in the comforting feeling that blanketed his body. He’s never felt so much peace before. How could a baby change so much in his life in only a matter of a few months? His head turned over to you, eyes landing on you. He felt his heart clench in adoration for you, something he’d never thought he would feel in over a million of years. Kids were never in the equation for him, but the sudden addition of you in his life made the grueling journey of his a little more worthwhile.

❤︎ Teaching you how to speak was such a delightful experience for him. He’d start his lessons by sitting you up on his bed with a few pillows behind you to support you. Then, with a pile of flashcards he made himself, he would point at the object, fruit, ect and sound it out. At first, you’d cock your head to the side curiously, babbling about something before falling to your knees and crawling towards Ford. No matter how many times you’d look at him with a blank confused expression on your face, he would still laugh equally as hard as he did the first time. When you started catching on and attempting to sound the words out with him, Ford would beam so brightly and swoop you in his arms and babble on how you’re so smart.

❤︎ “Okay, kiddo. What does the cow say?” Ford asks. You clapped your chubby little hands together, mouth opening and closing as you stared at Ford with a smile. Ford laughs, motioning to the picture of a cow in hand. “Don’t look at me,” using his pointer finger, he moved your head toward the index card. “Look at the card.” He points at it. “What is that on the card, kiddo?” You look at the card. “C-Cow!” You said. Ford erupted in a gleeful cheer. “Yes! Good job.” He has such a proud dad smile on his face. “You’re such a smart kid, you know that?”

❤︎ He never thought he’d enjoy looking for baby clothes. The prospect of buying kids clothes sounded boring and mundane. He thought he would buy a few articles of clothing and call it a day, but it’s been over an hour since he entered the baby store and he’s been looking at cute clothes and throwing them in the cart. “What do you think, kid? You like the shoes?” He placed the baby shoes on top of your little feet. You mindlessly babbled in response and he took that as a yes. “Great! I like them too.” He put the shoes inside the growing cart full of clothes, shoes and accessories. He would stand in front of a mirror and hold out a onesie and put it in front of you, ask if you liked it and if you responded with incoherent babbles that was a yes, but if you just stared at him that was a no. So far, you’ve been saying yes to everything he showed you. Once the cart started to get overloaded with baby items, he decided to purchase his findings. While putting the clothes down for the worker to scan, they sprouted a conversation with Ford. “First time being a dad?” Ford froze in his tracks, the word Dad circling around his head. Was he a Dad? Does this make him a Dad? He looked down at you and you looked up at him with a smile. He looked over to the cashier. With a hesitant nod, he said, “Y-Yeah. I’m a first time Dad.” The cashier smiled at him. “Enjoy the baby phase while it lasts, they grow up too fast.”

❤︎ And grow up you did. You were no longer a baby who yelled random gibberish. You were now a well renowned 5 year old! Speeding down the halls and causing trouble wherever your child's heart chose to wreak havoc. Ford had to swoop in and take you away from whatever device you were messing with before you broke it. “What did I tell you about messing with things that aren’t yours?” He said, placing you down on the sofa where all your toys and crayons reside. “Not to touch,” You said, grumpily crossing your arms over your chest. “Right, so why do you keep doing the opposite of that?” He crossed his arms over his chest as well, raising a curious brow. “Because I want to be like you! I want to play with them.” You puffed out your cheeks, staring down your shoes with a glare. “But those aren’t toys, kiddo. They’re very dangerous.” He tells you, ruffling your hair. “When you’re older I’ll let you touch my devices,” He says. “And maybe…you can build one of your own?” That piqued your interest and your attitude melted away and turned into happiness. “Really?!” You looked at him with stars in your eyes. “Yes, really.”

❤︎ Adventures out in the forests are way more entertaining now that you’re older. Back then, all you did was sit in a strap on a baby carrier and ogle at the pretty little things. Now, you can comment on things and show off your findings to Ford. “Dad!” You called out, picking up a flower from the ground. “Look at this!” You run towards him, waving the flower up in the air. He smiles, kneeling down to your height. No matter how many times you say it, he could never get used to you calling him Dad. “What is it?” He has his book flipped open to a new page, pencil ready in hand to draw the new discovery and its properties. “It’s a flower that makes you sparkly, look!” You shook the flower over your arm and little twinkling specs of glitter floated down to your arm. “Forever glitter!” You cheered, spinning around in a glittery tornado. Ford laughed at your silly antics, drawing you in the mess of sparkly glitter in his book.

❤︎ There’s books filled with drawings of you and little entries of things you did that Ford thought was worthy to write down to remember. Various cute little photos were plastered on the pages and on nights where he’s busy in the lab, for a quick break, he’d open the books and revisit the memories and photos of baby you to ground himself.

❤︎ The fridge is stamped with many drawings you've scribbled down on a paper with crayons. Even though they're not the best, in his eyes they are masterpieces. Especially the crudely drawn version of you and him holding hands with the words 'Happy Father's Day' messily written on top. He finds your messy writing so cute and he has a small little debate with himself whether he should help you practice your handwriting or keep it the way as it is.

❤︎ Since you were homeschooled, you didn’t have friends really. At first, Ford wanted to build you little robot friends. He was seriously on board with the whole idea but what stopped him was the idea of you going out one day, for whatever reason and being incapable of talking to humans because you were so used to talking to robots. That sent an uneasy chill down his spine. So whenever he’d have the time, he would take you and him out to parks where you were able to socialize with kids. Ford feared you’d be bullied like how he was for being so shy and quiet, but you were carefree and talking to so many kids Ford couldn’t believe it. At the end of it, you made a few friends that stuck around for a quiet long time.

❤︎ "Dad, what is that?" You point to the gnome that stood perfectly still on top of the table. Ford jumps in surprise. He was so wrapped up in his drawing of the gnome, he failed to realize you were creeping up to him. "Hey, sweetie." He greets. "Do you want a closer look?" He looks over to you, jerking his head to the gnome. "Yes!" You cheered. Setting his book and pencil aside, he picks you up and sits you down on the table. "This is a gnome." He tells you. "His name is Schmebulock." You reach your hand out towards gnome. "Can we keep it?!" You eagerly ask, grabbing the gnomes hat. "No can do, kiddo." He flicks your hand away from the gnome. "And be gentle." He softly scolds you. "Can he talk?" You poke the gnome. "Can you talk gnome!" The gnome turns over to you and blurts out. "Schmebulock!" Your head jolts back in shock. "Is he supposed to say that?"

❤︎ Ford never knew when exactly you were born so he decided to celebrate your birthday one the day you appeared on his doorstep. You knew that Ford wasn’t biologically your Dad, but you didn’t have to be related to him by blood to be called your father. Your birthday’s were spent doing whatever you wanted. He’d wake you up in the morning with your favorite breakfast and blast one of your favorite songs. While scarfing down your breakfast, he would ask you what you wanted to do for your birthday and whatever you replied back with was what you and he did. An adventure in the woods? Done! Spending the day rotting away watching TV together? Done! Anything you wanted, he’d grant you. He never truly took account of what that cashier said all those years ago until you turned 17. He would never admit it to you, but he cried a lot more than he’d like to say. In a flurry of tears, he wrote in his journal on how heartbroken he was. The page was stained with a bunch of tears. But who could blame him? His baby was all grown up! If only he cherished those days a little more.

❤︎ Trips to the mall was a frequent outing you an him partook on days off. "What am I spending all my money on today?" Ford may act like he dreads the times where you strip him dry of all his money, but in actuality, he loves surprising you with the things he told you no to. "Dad, can I get this?" And it's a cute little plushie you found while venturing into the store. Ford does his best to play up a very stern Dad act. Pursing his lips into a thin line, he shakes his head no. Defeated and ultimately disappointed you walk back to the shelf with your head hung low. It's not when you come back that you see the very exact same plush in his hands. "Oh!" He feigns shock. "How did that get here?"

❤︎ Another thing he'll never admit is that he doesn't like when you go off with your friends for hours. Up until you reached your mid teenage years, you and him were glued to the hip. Partners in crime if you asked him! And being alone in the shack is so reality shifting that he can't bring himself to do anything but lock himself in the lab until you come back. Anything reminds him of you and all he could do is stare somberly at them before burying his head in a book of his. "Dad?" You enter the shack, closing the door behind you. It's quiet, too quiet. Heading down the shack you found him asleep on a book. You couldn't see much since his head was laying on it, obscuring most of the text but what you were able to see was a drawing of baby you wearing his glasses. "Oh, Dad..." Your hand lays on his back and his body visibly relaxes. Since that day, you vowed to yourself to never stay out for long with your friends.

❤︎ “Being your father has been one of the best things that has happened to me.” Ford randomly admits on one summer evening. “You’re so sappy.” You reply, stretching yourself on the couch you’ve conquered as your own since this morning. Ford grabs you by the ankles and lifts them up, allowing himself to sit down on the couch. “Hey! Who said we were sharing.” You jokingly protested. He gets himself comfortable on the couch and rests your legs on his lap. “I said,” He looks over to you, just like how he always did when you were a baby and were sleeping soundly in your crib. Only this time you were no longer a sleeping baby. “But I mean it, kiddo. You’re one of my greatest achievements.” He says, patting your legs. A wobbly smile pulls to your face. You never truly say it out loud, but everyday you thank whatever force that pulled him to take you in.  “Now what’s on TV?” He asks himself, turning his attention to the TV. “Where did you put the remote?” Before he could begin fully searching for the remote, he gets attacked by a hug. “I love you, Dad.” You whisper, hugging him tightly. “I love you more, kiddo.”

[temmtamm]

Hello! Could you do yandere Pines family x female reader. (Mostly targeted to stanford pines) Can you do it where the reader (the reader is in her mid-20s) was traveling through gravity falls. But her car broke down, so the reader managed to stop at a motel (if gravity falls have one). The reader looks around gravity falls while she was there. And went to the mystery shack, and that's when standford meets the reader. He was love struck. So obviously, he started to stalk her, etc. Till he finally talks to the reader. After a while, the pines family has been noticing his strange behaviors (more than normal), so they went to investigate (mostly dipper and Mabel), and they realized they too really liked her. And started to see her as a graunty. Stanley comes in to see what's up and realize he also likes her too (as a little sister) and all of them try to get the reader to date/relationship with stanford. But the reader finally mentioned she was leaving soon. And that just...broke them. You can come up with the last part, okay?

Hii ^^ friendly reminder that I do not do gender specific asks, but I will gladly do this concept using gender neutral pronouns!!

Yandere Ford (+ twins) Headcanons

Okay, so I don’t think Ford would be a hard guy to impress, mostly because he had been away from human society for three decades and hence, grew accustomed to other dimensions customs, including their appearances.

That is both to say that you are something very new and exciting for him, both in the ways of fashion and what-not as you don’t exactly look like what people did in the 70’s-80’s, and you’re the first human he’s seen that was a romance-able option.

Things to note about Ford is that he is awkward, not all that socially aware, and he has no conversation skills to save his life…but, another thing to note that he is self obsessed. Ford is narcissistic as all his life he had been praised for his intellect. So, he is convinced he can use his intellect to woo you over, he just needs to study you.

He doesn’t like to call it stalking, only bad people stalk. He’s not bad, he’s just…collecting data. He’s not stealing, he’s just collecting samples, you get the point.

At nights, he lies awake thinking of you, over analyzing your twos relationship. He worries he is turning into a freak of nature, an obsessive monster that will end up destroying you and everyone else he loves. He’s afraid he’ll end up like Bill.

But…when he talks to you, when he watches the wrinkles form in the crows feet of your eyes from how much you laugh at his jokes, how well you take care of the twins, all his worries melt away.

He will never end up like Bill. He’ll make sure of it. He doesn’t want to destroy, he wants to protect. It’s the intent that matters, right?

Well…Stan doesn’t exactly think so. He gets worried seeing Ford hover so closely around you, always analyzing, always watching. He doesn’t want to lose his brother. It might be a bit selfish, but he just got Ford back, he doesn’t want you taking Ford away to god-knows-where once your car gets patched up.

So, he starts asking around, asking to see if Mabel and Dipper noticed Ford’s new attitude.

You see, another thing to note is that Mabel and Dipper don’t have a good home life. It’s not out of reach to assume that they had gotten sent to the Mystery Shack during summer while their parents got divorced, and in such a troubling time with a collapsing home life, they latched onto the closest thing to a family they had, which was you and Ford.

Ford had been Dipper’s ideal for a long, long time, before Dipper even really knew who Ford was, and hence, he’d be estatic to have him as a father figure. And Mabel?? Well, she has this unique ability to bond with almost everyone she meets, but especially you. You don’t chastise or make fun of her for being boy crazy, or liking pink, or being the ‘dumber’ sibling. You just let her be a kid and have her fun.

So, the two cover for Ford.

What do you mean he’s going out late?? He must just be getting used to his new life back home.

What do you mean he has a collection of your clothes? He’s keeping it for you…to wash.

He bought a perfume/cologne with your exact scent?? Obviously, it’s an early birthday present.

Hell, the two might even try to convince Soos to stall the fixes on your car, with Mabel in particular winning him over, saying it’s for ‘love’.

They, along with Ford, aren’t that willing to part with you. Won’t you just stay a little longer?? They barely got to know you.

C’mon, just stay…

At least let them pretend they have a happy family, at least for a little.

[sugarcoated-murder]

Classic songs for Gravity Falls

I keep listening to 70's and 80's classic rock and my Gravity Falls obsession has come back so I'm combining them (I've connected them) (I haven't connected shit)

Bill Cipher:

Starman by David Bowie

Stanley Pines:

Money by Pink Floyd

Stanford Pines:

Paranoid by Black Sabbath

Mabel Pines:

Mr. Blue Sky by Electric Light Orchestra

Dipper Pines: (besides ABBA's Dancing Queen)

Psycho Killer by Talking Heads

Thank you for coming to my TAD Talk

[rat-rambles]

Billford AU time doomed soulmates with a twist.

The rest is context / short fic thing.

“Hi Bill, please take a seat.” 

Bill politely went to the couch. 

“What’s up doc?”

“Cute, now do you have anything you'd like to talk about today?”

Bill scoffed,

“Yeah, how about how this is a complete waste of time!”

“It's not a waste, don't you want to get out of here?”

“Yeah as myself not as some insect or insignificant pest. Tell me doc, why would I have spent countless lifetimes getting myself to the 4th dimension only to go back willingly?”

“Technically we can’t be sure where you'd end up, your soul would travel to where it feels it's needed.” 

“And how does that end in a mayfly?”

“Well normally such small lives are stepping stones on a healing journey; you'd make it back to sentient life in time. You know I'm not supposed to share all this with patients but,... oh that's interesting.” 

The doc looked surprised at their notes.

“what? What is it if you tell me I'm gonna be a Dorito I'll-!” 

“ I didn't know you had a soul mate.”

That stopped Bill in his tracks.  

“What.. what do you mean I have a soulmate .. soulmates aren't real?”

“Well not everyone has them and they don't meet in every lifetime but in the primordial nebulas your soul had bonded with another. It's like 2 atoms drawn together even if across the universe. You would have been together by now for sure if you had lived our your expected life span.”

“What do you mean been together? Who is it?” 

“They now go by, oh yes, Stanford Pines, yes you've mentioned him.” 

“Stanford can NOT be my soulmate, you're just trying to pry some feelings out of me with these, these dirty tricks! You think you can manipulate me really?”

“No tricks, look, see there's your soul, his is the blue one.”

Doc handed Bill a photo of them as 2 glowing orbs hovering in the ether. Bill held the photo and he felt his very soul thumb at the photo in recognition. There was no denying the truth of course, only there was.

“This is bull! He's met me, he hates me! It only works out with us if I break out of here and finish what I started!”

“Now I'm not supposed to share about alternate timelines with patients but I think this might actually help you.” 

They pulled out a clip board. 

“I found this one looking for something to help you.” 

Bill took the clipboard. His eye landed on the image of a young adult human with long blonde hair and a big smile. 

“What is this”

“You, well your soul, if it had gone through it's cycles of reincarnation as intended.” 

Bill read the paper. It talked about a boy named Bill. An odd dreamer born in Wyoming but moved to New Jersey. This Bill met Ford before college and they went to the same one. He was never as smart as Ford but Fordsy called him the visionary. It read that together they worked on inventions to see the stars and worlds beyond.

“You want me to believe this is me?”

“If you never became immortal, yes.” 

“Well then it's not me. I would have never survived if I didn't! I mean you don't understand what it was like you can't have.”

“Lots of people have bad childhoods Bill” 

“LOTS of people are roaches who can't do anything to fix their reality! I can, I did, and this fake Bill didn't!” 

“Fake Bill is happy”

“Oh, is fake Bill happy? This photo is what, in the 80’s? Please. I've seen the way Ford treated his brother and Fiddleford, Ford isn't the kind to just settle down and be happy.” 

“Well he actually has a great number of happy endings.” 

“And let me guess they all don't involve me? At least like this, because I HAVE to change”

“You DO have to change Bill but that's not a bad thing, change is beautiful, change is life!” 

“No, your change is death, my change will be life.” 

Doc sighed. 

“Well that's all the time we have for today.”

Bill clutched the clipboard uncontrollably. 

“You can keep that but don't tell the others.” 

Back in Bill's room he flipped through the pages again and again. He had nothing else to do but memorize the details of his other life. He wondered if the reason they weren't allowed to tell patients these things was because it's torture. Knowing that you could have had a better life but didn't. He looked for reasons to dismiss it, to think it's a pitiful stupid existence to think that they were simply lesser beings on a lower plane. 

[reggiejworkshop]

"Bill"

"Come on you nerd! Just let go! Let go!" Stanley Pines

In an alternate universe, Stanford Pines and Stanley Pines reconciled their differences several years earlier, and with Fiddleford MacGucket, they uncover paranormal activity within Gravity Falls in Disney's first  animated PG sci fi film from 1982. 

This had been an idea I had been musing in my head for a while. Yes, I am aware 'Stanuary' is officially over now, but I still wanted to go ahead and finish this. I wanted to do another piece that was meant to parody the look of 80's movie posters, similar to the Action Claus piece I did a year or two ago. But this time I used Tron as my base of inspiration for this one. This one was a bit more experimental for me as I had to use a lot of different tools to create the background than I normally would.

The hardest was probably creating the custom text for the title. I wasn't able to get the text to look like the one from the original Tron movie poster, but I still managed to give it a retro 80's feel. Sure, it probably would have been easier to find a text generator website to do that for me, but I wanted to try it for myself anyway.

I love how well this turned out!

[selfshipgushing]

Oh yeah I mentioned doing a poly ship with two of my mains which I did do it's just a silly little AU where my s/i is dating both egon spengler and stanford pines (even tho I'm married to egon and engaged to ford) spacifically young ford because ford disappeared into the portal around the late 80s I think? (I can't remember/not entirely sure when the whole portal thing happened) and the first ghostbusters movie came in 84 so it makes sense timeline wise and shit

-🌌🐮

interesting!!

[frootbyethefoot]

getting the hang of drawing these dorks its over for everyone

[ID: two digital doodles of fiddleford mcgucket and stanford pines from gravity falls. the first sketch shows fiddleford mcgucket in his lab coat 80′s attire. he is standing in front of the inter dimensional portal and looks sad. the text reads, “i’m not going to lie i did not like that but thank you for sharing regardless” the next doodle shows fiddleford mcgucket and stanford pines drawn from the chest up. fiddleford is wearing a button up shirt, a tie, and a blazer. he looks neutral/disappointed. ford is wearing a large coat, a button up, and a tie, and looks surprised.]

[gobblewanker]

Author Stan meet Stanley Pines (oc)

Asau!Stanford meet Stanford Pines(oc)

Oh boy that meeting could go so many ways depending on which era's Stan and Ford they meet.

If they meet the 80's versions (hobo Stan and paranoid researcher Ford) it would probably not turn out great. AS!Ford would probably get really pissed at Ford for being 'naive' and trusting Bill and being a jerk to his Stan. AS!Stan would probably at first openly resent Stan out of jealousy because at least his Ford isn't dead. But once he finds out about the portal I have a feeling sympathy might win out over jealousy and he'd offer to help fix the portal so this version of them won't have to be separated too.

Meetings would go very differently if they met the old versions of themselves, or the pre-Bill ones. 🤔

[kittykat-creations]

Fiddauthor Week 4: Day 1

Something silly

@fiddauthor-week-four

I wrote this at 1 in the morning and I’m trying out the queue post thing for the first time, so if it doesn’t post in the morning and is instead posted at 2 in the afternoon, I apologize.

Warning: There is likely some swearing because of who I and my OC are as people.

An edit after I finished writing: There is very very minor swearing.

-----

“Fiddleford, what are you wearing?”

“What?” Fiddleford looked down at his latest fashion accessory. “They’re called leg warmers, Ford.”

“They look ridiculous,” Ford scoffed, looking back down at his blueprints for the portal.

“They’re better than this trenchcoat fiasco ya got goin’ on over here,” Fiddleford argued playfully, sitting down across the table and motioning to his boyfriend. “Do ya even have a fashion sense, Stanferd?”

“Scientists have no need for fashion,” Ford rolled his eyes.

“Yer jus’ like Bella, ain’t ya?” Fiddleford asked, his eyes scanning carefully over another set of blueprints. “Just ‘cause ya don’ need to doesn’ mean ya shouldn’t.”

“I don’ need to what?” Bella grinned, appearing in the doorway.

“Ah, right on time,” Ford teased, waving a hand at the woman. “I figured you would show up quick enough.”

“Ah, my muse is bein’ dumb,” Bella shrugged, sitting down at the third chair and glancing over the paper scattered across the table. “So what’s the topic of conversation that... I’ve been mentioned in?”

“Ford thinks mah leg warmers look silly,” Fiddleford began, “but he don’ even have a sense’a fashion.”

He showed his leg warmers to Bella, who stared at them for a few seconds.

“Fiddleford, that’s the dumbest shit I’ve ever seen.”

“Ha! See?” Ford grinned triumphantly.

“Oh, you don’ have a fashion sense neither,” Fiddleford argued, huffing in fake anger but grinning nonetheless. “You’ll throw on sweatpants an’ a t-shirt an’ call it fashion.”

“Hey, I ain’t ragging on ya fer... wearin’ what ya want,” Bella said. “You do you, I just think it looks dumb.”

“Well, that’s two to one,” Ford chuckled.

“Hey, Ah’ll have ya know that leg warmers are the latest fashion trend,” Fiddleford pointed a finger and the two others, who were both snickering to each other. “So technically, they’re cool righ’ now.”

“Suuuurrrreeee,” Bella said, rolling her eyes around to look the other way. “’Cool’.”

“Uh-oh, finger quotations,” Ford grinned jokingly. “She means business.”

“Just ‘cause ya put quotations ‘round somethin’ doesn’t mean it ain’t true,” Fiddleford argued.

“Pfft, sure it does,” Bella scoffed. “It means yer sayin’ it sarcastically. Ck, duh.”

“She’s got a point,” Ford nodded in agreement.

“Alrigh’, Ah see that Ah’m the bad guy here,” Fiddleford rolled his eyes and smiled, looking down at the blueprints again. The smile slowly slid from his face after a moment, only to be replaced with a look of concern.

“Hey, darlin’? Can Ah ask ya somethin’ about these here blueprints?”

[crashdevlin]

Jump The Shark

Author’s Note: This is part nineteen of The Best Laid Plans series

Summary: When John gets a call from the youngest son he never got to meet, Y/n goes with him to find out what happened to the one-night stand John had back in 1990.

Pairing: Alpha!John x Omega!Reader

Word count: 3597

Story Warnings: angst...A/B/O dynamics, canon divergence, angst, mentions of physical violence, mentions of mindfuckery, mentions of ferality, pining, did I mention angst?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You hadn't said anything. Not from the moment you and John found the truck. You climbed up into the cab and changed into jeans, a black and green plaid flannel and a pair of hiking boots. You dropped your suit skirt and blouse out the window going 80 down the interstate, and then you closed your eyes and listened to the Rolling Stones.

You had to open your eyes when your memories started attacking you.

Dean had been so sure that you were the one he wanted, the one he was looking for...but that was Dean Smith and Y/n Colt. That was a Stanford MBA and a former Miss Teen USA runner-up. The idea that he wanted to mark you was particularly hurtful and you were kinda glad you made him wait because you weren't sure if it would have reset like the first mark Sam gave you and the last thing you wanted was for Dean to be tethered to you when he could barely stand to be around you.

He only wanted you because he was someone else. He was someone else, but his soul was still stuck on you. You both felt that pull because you were connected but he didn't want you. Smith liked Colt, but Winchester would never love Y/l/n.

John just drove. It was obvious he had no destination in mind, he just pointed the truck West and drove. Part of you wished that he would go back to Mississippi but you knew that your semi-normal was gone...and it was better. You were a hunter and so were your alphas. No normal for you.

"It hit her hard, Sammy," you heard John whispering as he drove when you woke up a few hours into Missouri. "She hasn’t been that close with your brother in years and the fact that it was all fake is killing her."

A pang of sadness hit you as your brain called forth what John was talking about. The haze of sleep had taken the memory, but now it was clear why your heart felt like so many broken pieces shoved into a box in your chest.

"Yeah, we know that but he won't say it and she probably wouldn't be able to hear it now anyway." John sighed as Sam spoke through the phone. "Son, I don't know what we can do other than what we always do. If you need help, just call, but she definitely doesn't need to be around your brother for a while. All right. Keep me updated," John said before setting his phone on the dashboard. "I know you’re awake, 'mega. Can't fool me."

"Wasn't trying to fool you. Just letting you finish your conversation," you responded, sitting up and stretching as best as you could in the truck cab. "What'd Sam want?"

"Tell me that the whole deal in Cincinnati was the Angels fucking with us. Specifically fucking with Dean. They wanted to prove to him that he was always supposed to be a Hunter or something."

"And we just got pulled along for the ride? That was nice of them." You rolled your eyes and reached down for your purse, pulling out a travel mouthwash. "So, what, everything's dandy now?" you asked as you took a drink of the mint liquid, swished it around in your mouth and swallowed.

"You know, you're supposed to spit that out, right?"

"Only quitters spit," you said automatically. You ran your hand across your face as you dropped the bottle to the floorboard. Dirty jokes Dean told you as a teen were not what you needed to get out of your funk. “I’ve put worse things in my body.”

“Girl, we...we’ll get through this.”

“Not like we have a lot of options, right?” You licked your lips and shook your head. “I’m fine, John. I slept. I’m better. I’m fine.”

“When are you gonna learn that it’s useless to lie to me?” John asked.

“I’m sure it’ll sink in eventually,” you responded, chuckling. “I promise...I’m going to be fine.”

“I know you will,” John said, reaching over to pat your knee.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A few weeks passed and you were getting better at putting it behind you. The might’ve-beens dragged up by the Angels in Cincinnati were slowly being pushed back into the recesses of your mind and you were feeling better. Sam emailed John to tell him about some jerk in Ohio writing books about the boys’ lives, someone Castiel revealed to be a Prophet of the Lord who was writing The Winchester Gospels. There were books about the boys’ lives, their actions, their innermost thoughts, just hanging out on bookshelves around the world. You wondered if you were in any of the stories, the gospels.

John’s secondary cell phone went off as you pulled the truck into the parking lot of a coffee shop and he frowned as he looked down at the screen before he answered, “Hello?” A beat of time as you parked the truck and turned to him. “He’s not available. Can I help you?” He had a severe look on his face and you shook your head at him, confused by his reaction to the call. “What’d you say your name was? Milligan...and, uh, what are you callin’ John for?”

He made a fist and hammered it into his forehead. “Right, well, uh, I hate to have to tell you this over the phone but John is dead. He died in 2001.” Your eyes went wide and John put a finger up to quiet you before you could even start to question. “If you need help, then I can meet with you, kid. I’m, uh, John Winchester’s son, Dean. Windom, Minnesota. Cousin Oliver Café. We’ll be there tomorrow at 8am. See ya then, kid.”

“What the fuck, John?!” you exclaimed when he ended the call.

“Fuck.” He scratches his fingernails across his forehead and sighs as he sets the phone on the dash. “I recognized the area code, knew it was Missouri, thought it might have something to do with...with this case I had around January 1990. Anybody I interacted with back then, they would’ve known me before I got hit with that hex. So, that’s why I answered the phone like that and I’m glad I did because...because the kid on the other end of the phone is…” He trailed off and you gave him a pointed look.

“The kid on the other end of the phone is what?”

“My youngest son, Adam.”

Your eyes went wide, confusion and anger filling your body. “Your what?”

“I told you...I told you that I had one dalliance before you after Mary died, remember? When I was on that ghoul hunt and I went into rut and I-I was almost feral and I had one night where I couldn’t fuckin’ control myself and-”

“You knocked her up with pups?” you whispered. For some reason, it hurt a lot more than it should, especially considering you were only seven years old at the time.

“Only one. Adam.” He shook his head at himself. “She never told me. I didn’t know anything about it until 2001...and by then…by the time Adam called the first time, I was a young man again. I couldn’t show up looking like a twenty-five year old and start a relationship with the boy. So I just never called him back, kinda put him on the back burner. I figured I’d go see him when we found the witch and fixed me but I never found the witch and-”

“So, why’s he calling again now?” you asked, trying to be understanding. It wasn’t John’s fault. He should have told you. He should have told his other sons, but he couldn’t do anything about it now.

“His mom, Kate, is missing.”

“And he called you because?” you asked.

“Because the cops aren’t worried and his mom told him to try to get a hold of me if anything weird ever happened. She knew about the hunting.”

“So, your plan is to...pretend to be your oldest son and go meet your youngest son for the first time and try to find his missing mother...who most probably is just normal-missing, not supernatural-missing?” you asked, cautious of your tone.

“I can drop you somewhere if you don’t wanna participate in this, girl,” he said, biting his bottom lip.

“No,” you responded vehemently. “You don’t get to leave me behind, Winchester. Not ever again, remember?”

“Okay, then I’m gonna need you to back me on this and you’re going to have to call me ‘Dean’.”

You nodded. “I can do that.” You weren’t sure you wanted to, but you’d do it for him.

“Thank you, darlin’.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

John was nervous. You could smell it in his scent. You leaned into his shoulder as you sat in the booth, trying to calm him with your own scent. You kept your head on his shoulder as he switched a glass of water out with a glass of holy water and set a trio of silverware on the opposite side of the table. “Just in case.”

“You really think-”

“I looked into him, ya know? Kid did real good without me in his life,” John said suddenly. “He’s real and he’s smart and he never had anything to do with this life. I’m scared it bled onto him anyway.”

You sighed and leaned up to press a kiss to his temple as the door opened and a tall, thin young man walked into the diner. He looked like a mix of Sam and Dean. “That’s him,” you whispered, recognizing him from the Facebook profile.

John, or rather ‘Dean’, stood and waved at the boy.

“Dean?” Adam asked, walking over. John nodded. The boy laughed. “Wow, you look just like the picture my mom had of-of John. You’re almost the spitting image of him.” He let out a scoff as he sat down, his eyes moving to you. “Who’s this?”

“My omega,” John said, a bit defensively.

“Y/n,” you said, offering your hand to him.

Adam took it with a smile. “Wow.”

You felt a cringe move through your body and you looked down. “What?”

“I just…” Adam cleared his throat. “There’s not a lot of omegas in Windom and none are as pretty as you.”

Another Winchester flirting with you was sending all sorts of bad signals through your body. You softly tugged your hand back and sat back down as Adam settled into the opposite side of the booth and picked up the water. You held your breath when he took a drink but the water went down easy so you relaxed a bit.

But not much.

He smelled wrong. John was lavender and orange and ylang ylang, Dean was lavender and honeysuckle and anise, Sam was vanilla and coffee and undercurrents of honeysuckle when he was in rut. Adam smelled like dirt.

Not grass and forest and mossy logs, dirt. Just dirt. He didn’t even have a secondary scent to him, no undercurrent or complementary smell. Just dirt.

There should have been some part of him that smelled like a Winchester, even if he wasn’t the same makeup of a Winchester as the ones you knew. He shouldn’t smell like that.

Adam didn’t seem to notice your musing or your deep breaths to try and find something else in his scent. He went off on a tangent as he ate his breakfast about how John and Kate met in the emergency room at the hospital room where she works and he went into rut after he got hurt and Adam tried to get a hold of John when he was a kid and John just never picked up the phone and he’s glad that ‘Dean’ answered the phone this time.

“At least I know why he didn’t answer when I was calling before. So, uh, what happened to John?”

“Heart attack,” John responded. “It was sudden.”

“Right, guess that makes sense. Heart disease is the number one killer of men his age in the US,” Adam said.

Your eyes focused on the silverware in the man’s fists. Not a shifter either then. But this was something. This was not a Winchester.

“Well, after we get done eating, why don’t you take us to the house and we’ll see if we can’t find something to tell us where your mom got to,” John offered.

“Thanks, Dean,” Adam said with a smile.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"He didn't react to silver or holy water," John argued as he followed Adam's car down the road.

"So? There's plenty of things that can alter people's perception of them that don't react to silver or holy water! Rakshasas, sirens, djinns, ghouls, do I need to go on?" you argued back. "He smells like dirt, John. That is not-"

"Maybe that's just-"

"What'd his mother smell like?" you interrupted.

"Passion fruit...and something else I can't remember."

"Not dirt. He shouldn't smell like that. He's not your son."

John sighed and scratched at his chin. "You might be right. He should smell more like one of us. He doesn't even smell like an alpha, honestly, but...if he's not Adam, then where the hell is Adam? And where's Kate? And why the fuck would whatever he is try to get me out here?"

"I don't know."

"Me either. For now, let's focus on finding Kate and we'll go from there." You held in a groan and focused out the windshield. "I know, 'mega. I'm just...I got this feeling...I lost my opportunity to be a part of this boy's life because of that witch."

"And that’s terrible, John...but you wouldn't have me if it wasn't for that witch so…"

“I’m not sayin’ I regret it, sweetheart, I just...wish I could have...met him once before I went after that bitch.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, biting your thumbnail. “Sometimes I wish things were different, too.”

“You wish I never came over when you were going into that first heat,” he guessed.

You swallowed, but you didn’t answer. The truth was, you had thought through a lot of different wishes and butterfly-effect ripples of how it would change everything. If John didn’t show up, you wouldn’t be a hunter. If Dean hadn’t pushed you to let Sam take you when those apple-pie assholes put you in heat, you would have just been Dean’s. If you never sold your soul for Dean, you might have been able to move on, find another alpha...a non-Winchester.

“I don't think I'd be myself if you hadn't shown up,” you answered eventually. “I'd have stayed stuck at Bobby's, never ended up with an alpha let alone two, and I would be dying from never getting a knot in a few years' time...it’s better you did.”

"I'm...glad I did, Y/n. I like the woman you are, the strong and beautiful omega you are.”

You smiled and your cheeks heated up at the praise. “Let’s just get this done, huh?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You weren’t exactly happy that you were the one who had to crawl through the vents but Adam said, and John fucking agreed, that you were smallest and therefor the best choice. When you found the blood and pieces of skull and blond hair, you were happy to be small enough to pull your phone out of your pocket and text the news to John so he could break the news before you crawled back out.

“Call the cops. We gotta get out of here, though,” John said as he offered you a hand to help you up out of the vent.

“Wait, but-” Adam started to argue.

“We don’t mix with cops,” you responded, before stomping away from them, roughly brushing dust off of your jeans and shirt. “Come on, J-Dean. Let’s get out of here.”

“You don’t mix with-” Adam started to argue, but you pushed past him and stomped out to John’s truck.

“There was no surprise in his scent. There was no anger or sadness. I’ve lost both parents, John, there should have been-”

“Maybe he’s numb or-”

“Maybe he’s made of dirt or something!” you snapped. “That is not-”

“He hasn’t done anything wrong yet, ‘mega.”

You shook your head. “Yeah. Yet. You know what, John? I’m gonna go ahead and look into things that could be pretending to be your illegitimate pup.”

You barely looked at him as you got out of the truck and headed inside to start researching. When Adam showed up to find out what was going on with his missing mother and you and ‘Dean’ leaving before the cops showed up and “what the hell?!” John decided to explain about hunting as simply as he could. He didn’t explain who he really was, though. And then John decided to take Adam to explore other options of finding Kate.

It was a couple hours later that you came across a mention in an online lore forum that said ghouls, while normally scavengers who feast on dead flesh, could actually eat living specimens and have been shown to greatly enjoy fresh human meat and blood...and just like feasting on the dead, the ghoul can take the visage of their victim and their memories.

“Didn’t John say that’s what he was after when he was here before?” you whispered to yourself as you picked up your cell phone and dialed John’s number. It rang through until it went to voicemail. You called again. It went to voicemail again.

Panic fell over you. Your alpha was in trouble. Your alpha was in trouble and you had no idea where he was.

“Fuck!” You were almost shaking as you stood up and looked around aimlessly. What could you do? Another string of expletives fell from your mouth before you forced yourself to focus. You took a deep breath and closed your eyes. Your soul was connected to him. You needed to find him.

It only took a flash. A flash of the dining room at Kate’s house, John tied to the table had you grabbing the keys to John’s truck and rushing for your alpha. You pushed that truck as fast as it would go to get it to the house on the outskirts of Windom. The truck tires screeched as you slid to a stop in the front yard. You grabbed your shotgun from the rack in the truck bed and ran into the house.

John was tied to the table, ‘Adam’ and ‘Kate’ standing over him as he bled from his wrists. “Y/n,” he groaned. “They’re ghouls!”

“I know!” you snapped, aiming at Adam’s head and shooting. Parts of his head exploded onto the wall behind him and Kate shrieked before running at you. You moved to pump the shotgun for a second shot, but Kate grabbed you and tossed you into the wall like you were nothing.

“Y/n!”

“I’m fine, John!” you shouted, rolling onto your hands and knees.

“John?” Kate spat out, her tone dripping with poison.

“Forgot to mention before you started draining me,” John groaned. “I’m the one who killed your daddy, sweetheart.”

“Witches are better than plastic surgery, bitch,” you said, sweeping the woman’s leg with your foot. She fell to the floor and you jumped up, grabbing the shotgun and shooting her in the head, too. You licked your lips and panted as you limped over to the table and pulled out a knife, getting him loose from his binds. “You okay?” you asked, grabbing a rag and ripping it in half, wrapping each half around his wounds.

“Yeah. You...you got here in time.” He sat up, his legs hanging off the table as you secured the wraps around his wrists. “How’d you know?”

“I figured out ghouls could eat fresh and then I couldn’t get you on the phone and...I…” You licked your lips. “I knew where to find you.”

“How?” he pressed.

“How’d you know what motel room I was cutting Sam’s mark off of me?” you asked in answer.

“You felt it?” he asked and you nodded. He reached out, barely wincing at the pull on his wrist, and pulled you in for a soft, sad kiss. “They were siblings, kids of the ghoul I took down last time I was in Windom. They called to get revenge for me killing their dad.” He looked away. “Killed Kate and Adam to get revenge first. I was hoping I wasn’t right about my life bleeding on his.”

“It’s not your fault, John,” you whispered.

He shook his head. “I know. Shoulda stuck around to see if the thing left behind little monsters for me to kill, but...I went into rut...and then I had to get back to the boys.”

“John...it’s really not on you.”

“He’s dead because of me.”

“He was alive because of you,” you insisted. “He had nineteen years before these things...he had nineteen years because of you. Please, don’t let this get to you.” You chuckled, ruefully. “I’m the one that’s supposed to be barely floating in an ocean of shit. You’re supposed to be my life raft.”

He smiled and nodded. “I am. I am your life raft, darlin’. Just...a little blood-deprived right now. I’ll perk up after a glass of O.J. and some protein. Come on. Let’s get outta here.”

You nodded and wrapped his arm around your shoulders, helping him off of the table and walking him out to the truck.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[hellorebecca]

Back From the War

Some 80s era Stancest I wrote a while back. Inspired by some of @nekoaimy‘s posts on the subject.

*****************************************

"So, um, you okay?" Stan asked, his hands unsteady.

Ford nodded, and sipped from his mug of coffee. "I feel better, now."

"Okay," said Stan. He breathed out a sigh, ran a hand through his hair. "Okay."

It was almost surreal, remembering the events of the past hour: him and Stanley fighting over the journal in the portal room, him branding his brother's shoulder (and oh, was that going to leave a mark),  the shove, the panic that filled him as he floated above the room--

Then, the rope, the relief, as he was slowly pulled back to earth by his brother's strong arms.

Stanley cleared his throat, snapping Ford out of his reverie. "So, what's up?" he asked, a look of concern on his face. "You kinda spaced out for a second there."

Ford shook his head. "Just thinking over the day's events," he said softly. Then: "How's your shoulder?"

Stan looked ashamed, as if he had been the one who had burned his own brother. "I mean, it hurts, but... it's fine, really. I mean, I can still use it." He rotated his right arm for emphasis. Ford couldn't help noticing the wince that Stan made at moving it around.

“Let me take a look at that,” he said, setting his mug down and reaching his hand towards his brother’s wound.

Stan hesitated; then, he slowly took off his jacket and shirt, carefully avoiding touching the cloth to the brand. Ford drew in a deep breath as he took in Stanley’s bare back. His muscles were cushioned under a layer of fat, and there were scars scattered across his skin. There was one particularly nasty one, just above his waist, that Ford wished he could ask about, but he just didn’t have the time.

Right. The brand. “How badly does it hurt?” asked Ford, as he carefully inspected the still-blistering scar.

“Honestly, it’s not too bad,” Stan answered. “I mean, I’ve definitely had worse.”

“Hmm.” Ford gingerly touched the tips of his fingers to Stan’s brand; he couldn’t help his heart from sinking when Stan flinched away from that. “Well, first we need to clean it, of course.” He went to the cabinet and got out a rag and the first aid kit. He ran the faucet cold over the rag, and added a little dish soap for good measure. Gently, he washed the burn, taking care not to pop any of the blisters. He then fished out a tube of aloe vera from the first aid kit.

“Pull your hair back for me,” said Ford. “I don’t want this to get messy.”

Stanley did as he was told, and Ford carefully spread the lotion over his brother’s charred skin. As he did so, he thought of long, hot summer nights, when they would rub aloe vera into each others’ sunburned backs. It was a good memory, and Ford felt a pleasant shiver thinking about it. Stan let out a sigh of relief, apparently releasing some of the tension from what had happened that night.

“Good, good,” said Ford, as he checked his handiwork. “Now I just need to cover it with a bandage.”

“You’re not gonna kiss it better?” asked Stan.

“No,” said Ford, suppressing a laugh. “It just wouldn’t be sanitary.”

“Ah,” Stan replied, and if Ford didn’t know any better, he’d almost say Stan sounded… disappointed. “Well, alright.”

Ford took out the gauze and the medical tape from the first aid kit and said, “Um, I can kiss you, though.”

“What?”

“If you want me to,” Ford added. “Not… not on the lips, of course, but I can kiss you. Just—just say where.”

“Um.” Stan craned his neck towards Ford. “Are you serious?”

Ford grew oddly hot. “I mean, ah, touch has been known to lower the body’s stress levels, which can help with, with the healing process—That’s... why I suggested it.”

“Ah,” said Stan, turning his head away from Ford again. “So you’re just being a weirdo.”

Ford swallowed. “Stanley, I...”

Stan waved him off. “It’s fine. Just… bandage me up, man.”

There was no point in disobeying that, so Ford carefully positioned the gauze on Stan’s burn wound, then applied the tape to make it stick. “We’ll need to reapply the bandage every day until the burn fully heals,” he said when he was done.

“‘We,’” Stan repeated. He turned around to face Ford. “Does that mean I’m staying?”

It was strange, how shocking Ford found the question. “I guess so,” he answered, considering his words carefully. “At least, for now. But—Stanley, it’s not… safe, here.”

“Because of the portal.”

Ford nodded. “Not just that, but yes.”

Stan groaned and ran a hand through his hair. “So, when do I need to leave?”

Ford held up a hand. “Stanley...”

“No, no, it’s...” Stan starting pacing around the kitchen, gesturing wildly. “I mean, I know you don’t—well...”

Ford caught Stan by the chin. “Stanley, please, just—listen to me.”

“C’mon, Stanford, it’s fine,” said Stan, who still resisted meeting Ford’s eyes. He sounded like he was going to cry. “If you don’t want me around...”

That definitely wasn’t true, so Ford needed to prove it false. If he was any less sleep-deprived, he might have done something else. As it was, his brother’s chin still in his hands, he laid a kiss upon Stanley’s lips.

Stanley tasted of cheap cigarettes and stale coffee, but Ford didn’t mind, far more interested in the way Stan warmed up to the kiss,  tense at first but soon kissing back, running his hands through Ford’s hair. It was the culmination of everything they had been dancing around for a long, long time.

“Thought you said you weren’t gonna do that,” Stan gasped out, once they broke away.

Ah, right. The offer he made from earlier. “Guess I lied,” Ford panted.

They drew in for another kiss, deeper, more passionate. It left them so breathless and panting that it took a while before either of them spoke again.

“So, why can’t I stay, for real?” asked Stan. “Because I know there’s something there.”

Damn. Stanley knew Ford all too well. “There’s… an entity, that takes control of my mind when I sleep. I don’t want it to harm you,” Ford admitted, as much as he was willing to admit.

“Is that why you’re so strung out?”

Ford nodded. “Mostly, yes.”

Stan grunted and lifted himself about the counter, sitting on the countertop. It would annoy Ford were he not so charmed at the moment. “Okay, so, is there like, a way we can get that—thing out of your head?”

“There is one way I know of.” Ford scrubbed his face and frowned. “But it involves dealing with creatures that I’ve found to be—quite frustrating, in the past.”

Stan looked at Ford expectantly. “Well?” he asked.

“You’re going to laugh,” Ford replied glumly.

“C’mon, just tell me!”

“Unicorns,” Ford answered.

Stan let out a loud guffaw, and for a moment Ford truly hated him. “What, ain’t they really fond of virgins?”

“Actually, no,” said Ford stiffly. “Though the requirements for dealing with them seem just as strict as in legend. And by the way, I’m not a virgin.”

Stan grinned. “Sure you’re n--”

“Would a virgin kiss you as well as I just did?” Ford replied smugly. He took a certain amount of pleasure in the shock on Stan’s face.

“Man, you really have changed,” said Stan. “Gone a long way since your ‘kissing machine’ days.”

Ford groaned. “Please don’t mention the kissing machine, Stanley.” He took the journal off the kitchen table and started flipping through the entries. “Anyway, if you’re really serious about this--”

“Of course I’m serious,” Stan retorted.

“I’ll warn you again, unicorns are not easy to deal with,” said Ford. He found the entry on unicorns in the journal and handed it to Stan. “Their standards for good behavior are very exacting. I doubt you’d be able to live up to them.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Stan grumbled. He seemed upset by Ford’s assertion. He always had carried a chip on his shoulder on being the lesser of the two Pines twins. “I’ll just kill one of them, so what?”

“Stanley...” Ford started.

“What, they need to be alive?”

“No, you’ll just need the hair from their manes,” answered Ford. “But killing a horse—or horse-like creature—can be harder than it looks.”

“Eh.” Stan shrugged. “I mean, I killed a llama once.”

Ford raised an eyebrow. “Lama-with-one-L or llama-with-two-Ls?” he asked.

“Llama as in the weird animal with the long hair,” Stan said with an eyeroll. “Cripes, you’re a nerd.”

“Technically, that could describe both--” Ford got a poke in the ribs. “Oof. But seriously, are you sure you want to do this?”

“I mean, if it’ll keep you safe,” said Stan. He looked down at his bare chest. “Though, uh, I’m gonna need some clothes that haven’t been singed.”

Ford looked Stanley over. He was still naked from the waist up, and though that was fine for an evening of making out, it was less than ideal for a night in the cold and snow.

“Hang on,” said Ford. “There are some sweaters in my room.” He dashed over there as quick as he could, unable to suppress the irrational worry that Stan would be gone by the time he got back. He fished through his drawers and found a bright and cheery Christmas sweater, a gift from Fiddleford when they were still in college. (Ford didn’t have the heart to tell him that he was Jewish and had never celebrated. It was good at its main purpose, at least, which was keeping warm.)

Back in the hallway, he was struck by the sudden realization that this was real, that he had really kissed his brother and his brother kissed him back. It was funny, how repressed they both had been about it, and how open they were now. He supposed it made a certain amount of sense—incest was a Rubicon that neither of them were prepared to cross, even as odd a pair as they had been, but once they set their mind on something, there was no doubt, if it were in any way possible, they would get it.

Once they put their mind on something, there was no doubt they would get it. Ford smiled at the thought, and hurried back to the kitchen. He found Stan sitting on a chair, a far more reasonable position than the counter. “Here,” he said, and handed Stan the gaudy sweater.

“Bit late to be wearing this,” said Stan, looking it over.

Ford shrugged. “If it keeps you warm.” He grabbed his coat from his chair. “Here, wear this, too. Do you still have your gloves and hat?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Stan grumbled. “I’m not gonna freeze to death, Ford.” He grunted as he struggled to put on the sweater.

“Careful,” said Ford. He helped pull the sweater down. “You still need to look out for that shoulder.” He gave his brother a quick peck on the cheek.

“Heh heh.” Ford enjoyed the way Stan blushed. Stan cleared his throat. “Alright, so they live in this glade, right?” Stan said, as he put on the coat. “Shouldn’t take too long. I’ll be back in a jif.”

“Stay safe, Stanley.” Ford squeezed his brother’s hand. “Remember to come home in one piece.”

“I will,” Stan replied softly. He pat Ford on the shoulder, then pulled him into a brief kiss. “Take care of yourself while I’m gone, knucklehead.”

“Okay, okay,” Ford said with a soft laugh. He watched Stanley go out of the house and into the unknown, once again the brave hero of their youth. For the first time in a long while, he felt a deep, sustaining hope, one that would last him the rest of their lives.

[lunathekahuna]

RACHANA DUBOIS-PINES

Nicknames:Rach(the town/Stan twins), Sugar shack(Stanley), Mrs.Mystery, Mrs.Pines (the town), Graunt/Grauntie Ray/Rach(the pines twins)

Age:55 Born:May 31,1957; New York,The Bronx Gender:Female

Ethnic/Race:Hispanic/French/American

Parents:Flora Mendez (House Wife/Undercover Policewoman) & Marshall Pierre Dubois (Radio/Music Director)

Facts:-She and her parents moved to Glass Shard Beach,New Jersey, When her Dad got a new Job as Music/Radio Director

-She met the Pines twins when she was 7,She kept her gift (sixth sense) as a secret from the twins. She was the voice of reason but had her own idea of fun, She would skip one/two grades in elementary/middle school.

-She has taken a crush towards Ford since her freshman year while Ford tried to tell her he liked her, She wore glasses sometimes when she's studying or have confidence to wear them but had to keep braces til Senior year.

-70's-She helped Stan get to his feet and staying out of trouble when they kicked him out without Letting Ford know, Later he went off on his own.

80's-She went to College in West Virginia so she can practice her ability, Studying Wildlife and parapsychology while She and Ford dated long distanced with phone calls and letters, She also kept contact with Stanley,She then discovered the Icelandic pop music sensation,BABBA.

Ford invited Rach to stay in GF and Take part as his partner with McGucket while She adored the creatures but Got weirded out by Ford acting differently.

then Ford proposed and notifies his and her family, well She told Stanley,They celebrated by having a them-day.

Rach helped adding more infomartion in Ford's first two journals but When Ford was acting paranoid,he would hide all three from her. While She was out of the house,Ford hid the two journals in different locations. He told her that Stan would stop by. She was hoping they were gonna make up.

-When Ford got Sucked in the portal,She was beyond mad at Stan but was sad and understanding, She helped Stanley to get him back and build the mystery shack,Rach later found out she was pregnant

-She married "Stanford" aka Stanley,but Knew she really married to the real Stanford since Stanley used Ford's name.

She then gave birth to a baby boy named Sherwood, 4 yrs later, a girl named Monna l.

-She took jobs around Gravity falls year round as A high school teacher,Greasy's Diner Waitress and Hike tour guide for the Mystery Shack.

-30 years passed,Sherwood,29, took a job as Football coach at the high school but a handyman and Assistant manager of the mystery Shack. Monna,25,took a job as Motorcycle paint artist/a regular Singer in Greasy's Diner & a mom of 2 yr old twins.

Abilities: Sixth sense, martial arts,KicKboxing

Flaws:tries to fix things, overprotective,Paranoid

Family:Stanely(Fake husband/Brother-in-law),Stanford(Husband) (Kids)-Sherwood,Monna (Grandkids)-Gwen,Forest (Grandniece/nephew)-Mabel/Mason(Dipper) Pines

Please do Ask if you like to know more about Rach, I'll even try to Draw her answering your questions.

[ston-rampler]

okay hear me out.... Gravity Falls/ TMA crossover where it's Stanford Pines visiting the Institute in the 80's

[sixfingersixtails]

Tagged by: @misfxts

Tagging: @neoneidolon, @white-fire-the-dragon

Name: Stanford “Sixer” Pines

Name meaning: Stanford -- “Stony ford.” Sixer -- a nickname, referring to his six fingers.

Age: 600-ish

Gender: Cis Male, Asexual

Ethnicity: Jewish

Nationality: American, specifically from New Jersey

What time do they usually get up in the morning?: Mid-morning, give or take an hour. If he went to bed the night before, that is. Otherwise there’s a chance he could fall asleep in the middle of working on something and sleep until afternoon the following day.

What is their morning routine?: Cup of coffee (or two. Or five). Change of clothes, maybe a shower. Set his face on fire to shave. Brush out his tails to make sure his fur isn’t going to turn itself into knots.

How long does it take them to get ready in the morning?: Depending on how much he has to do in the morning? Either very little or a long time. Those tails are the source of a great deal of tedious work in the morning.

What time to do they usually go to bed?: Assuming he ever goes to bed, sometime after midnight. 

Do they fall asleep easily? Do they stay asleep easily?: Depends. Nightmares can cause trouble and leave him awake more of the night than recommended, but if he can get a full night’s sleep, he sleeps very deeply.

What position do they sleep in?: On his side -- his tails make it uncomfortable to sleep on his back. He may also sleep on his stomach, but that’s rare.

What is their handwriting like?: Just like his canon counterpart -- a flowing cursive script.

Do they prefer typing or writing things?: He’s much more used to writing by hand rather than using a computer, but he knows how to use one.

What form of art (i.e. sculpture, embroidery, painting, etc) do they like?: Drawings and paintings, usually. There’s...something about tapestries and statues that unnerves him greatly.

Are they an artist themselves? What kind of art do they do?: Sixer would consider himself more of a scientist than an artist, but he can draw very well. His journals are filled with sketches.

What are some of their favorite books?: Fantasy -- think LoTR -- and a great deal of magical non-fiction, as odd as that combination of words is. You'd be surprised at just how much of it there exists in a world that -- for the most part -- considers magic to be a myth.

What genres of movies do they like?: He isn’t all that picky, but he’s seen enough chaotic body horror to last several lifetimes, so horror is right out.

What music genres do they enjoy?: Orchestral is something that’s a safe zone for him, but he’s been introduced to some modern groups that have songs that don’t set off alarm bells in his head. Folk music, songs that have similar sounds to what he heard as a kid but not quite the same lyrics, some old classics -- that sort of thing.

What are some of their favorite musical acts?: He doesn’t currently have a favorite, but that could change.

Do they prefer their music to sound a certain way?: He’s not a fan of heavy bass. 

Are they a musician themselves?: He wouldn’t consider himself a musician.

Do they enjoy music from certain decades? If so, which decades?: His music taste is all over the place -- some 60′s-80′s rock, some more modern tunes. It’s hard to pin down a specific decade because he hasn’t exactly been in tune with time in a while.

What are some of their favorite pieces of clothing/outfits in their wardrobe? If not applicable, what do you think would be some of their favorite pieces of clothing/outfits?: Turtleneck sweaters, pants, combat boots. He used to wear trench coats, but not so much anymore -- they sit over his tails a funny way and can rub the fur the wrong way.

How much are they willing to spend on clothes?: Not that much. Sixer doesn’t see a point in keeping up with fashion, and he isn’t about to change something about himself that he is currently quite comfortable with.

What colors and patterns are prominent in their wardrobe? What colors and patterns do they wear the most often?: Various shades of red, but there are also some other colors that pop up now and again -- never yellow, though, and you won’t catch him dead wearing all black. He doesn’t usually wear anything that has patterns.

What kind of clothes do they like?: As mentioned above, turtleneck sweaters,  pants -- not jeans -- and combat boots that can give you a real kick in the rear as needed. If people want to gift him anything new, he’d usually request another sweater.

Do they wear makeup? What type do they wear?: Sixer’s not a makeup sort of guy.

Do they wear/do you associate them with clothes from a certain decade? If so, which?: Other fans of Gravity Falls say he looks like he got his style Carl Sagan, and I agree completely. So...I think that was from the 1950s era?

What font/fonts do you associate with them?: I don’t know if the published Journal 3 has an official font, but that is what I associate.

What colors do you associate with them?: Red and gray.

What natural elements (geographical features like mountains, animals, seasons, locations, plants, etc.) do you associate with them: fire, foxes, the smell of an old library, forests of evergreen, hidden quiet places, ruins in daylight, mid-summer.