#art student fiddleford

[viviarts-c]

Part 3.5 of my Mystery Trio College AU!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 3.5 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9

Valentine's Day Special

[hithisismyrandomblog]

More doodles before bed (possibly these are scenes from the fanfic I'm writing, but shhhh)

[nxgfcx]

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[tinfoil-jones]

Jerk Ford AU: About

[Art by: @tearosepedall]

[Jerk Ford Not a jerk to his brother and only his brother The most hated Ford in the Multiverse]

[Doesn't need as much protecting Teen Jerk Ford: F#ck off Teen Stan: Ford! Don't do that!]

[Stan is a well liked guy Stan never ended up homeless, because Ford believed him]

Ford was the worst type of student because he's really good at everything that he does, just like any other version of himself. Like, the teachers were mad he was their best (academically speaking) student.

They'd prefer it if he was a delinquent who never did his homework and showed up late to class. But no, he not only did all of his assignments, but he also did extra credit that he didn't need, and showed up early to everything. Just like all of the other Fords.

He was the Chess, Spelling Bee, and Debate Team champion all four years he was in high school. He could have skipped several grades and only didn't because ya know, twin. And this continued while he was in college and got his 12 PHDs.

Stanley was his only supporter in all of that because everyone wanted him to fail. Some people (like their parents) even tried to pressure Stan into also hating his brother but one of the Universal Constants is that you can't make Stan hate his brother. People didn’t even bring up the fact that Stanley wasn’t the genius twin, people called him the ‘good twin’ because he wasn’t a jerk.

Stanley is just a regular guy in this AU. He was never a criminal or con artist. He went to Backupsmore University with Stanford and Fiddleford (Fiddleford would sometimes use Stan to pass messages along to Ford, because he did not want to talk to Ford if he didn't have to). He's a Chemistry Teacher who also helps out with Theatre.

[Bill: You tricked me!!! Jerk Ford: Skill Issue]

[Jerk Ford, to all other AU Fords: Wait! You all actually fell for that triangles flattery?! LOL]

He knew Bill Cipher was just f***ing with him with all of that talk of "I'm a muse" and "You're more special than everybody" (he already knew that he doesn't need a triangle to validate that). Ford just wanted to flip the script on him in the end in the most elaborate 1980s version of Jackass you've ever seen.

All of the other Fords hate him so much not just because he's a jerk (that's the majority of the reason though), but because of how weirdly competent and self-actualized he is comparatively speaking.

He didn't fall for Bill tricks. He's so sure of himself that he doesn't have the same hero (or villain, depending on the AU) complex. He doesn't want to take over the universe, or be the savior of it, or even be the one who kills Bill Cipher. He's just a jerk to everybody (except Stan) because he likes being a jerk.

Jerk Ford is one of the few Fords who maxed out his Charisma. He just uses that charisma to make people hate him instead of like him

Because charisma isn't just 'likability', it's your Presence and Force of Personality. His presence is so strong all he has to do is walk into a room, and you know he's an a**hole.

If you were to sum up what Jerk Ford is like around other Fords, it's like this:

"Every Stanford Pines in the multiverse reviles and despises that man."

Jerk Ford: You all want to be me so bad.

"NO WE DON'T YOU A**HOLE"

[Mabel: He's not actually THAT big of a jerk right?" Dipper: *wants to strangle him* Jerk Ford: Stanley who are these twerps?]

[Stan: Oh! They are family poindexter, Shermies grandkids! Jerk Ford: I see *doesn't care*]

If I were to give Jerk Ford a unique design to set him apart from Fords of other AUs, his turtleneck and muddied boots are swapped with these:

The hoodie is the usual red colour, the font is probably the same gold colour as his zodiac symbol. The puffed croc boots are also probably the same colour as canon Fords.

He doesn't have any embarrassing tattoos because the tattoo artists of Gravity Falls would never service Ford. Because he's not just banned from every establishment in Gravity Falls, but if he enters any business you are legally allowed to and encouraged to shoot him.

In fact Bill gave up possessing Ford to ruin his reputation with the townsfolk early on because nothing he did was worse than anything Ford did by himself.

You know how Ford drew himself coming out of the portal with aura in Journal Three?

Most of the other Fords try to look cool, and you just have this dude over here who doesn't give a s*** because he already believed his own hype. He doesn't feel the need to be ✨Extra✨ unless if he's being mean or generally unpleasant to somebody.

[Previous]

[senipsenipsenip]

I’m a little obsessed with the idea of Ford making himself the most involved support network he can for Dipper and Mabel when they go off to college. Like weekly phone calls even if it’s just for five minutes to say “hey how are you you’re not alone I love you”. He knows what it feels like to be isolated, adrift in a new environment. He knows it can be hard to reach out, so he wants to make sure his niblings know he’s always reaching out already should they ever need him.

He makes sure he’s keeping up with what Wendy, Soos, Fiddleford, and the townsfolk are up to so that he can relay it to Dipper and Mabel, which has the (unexpected for Ford but unsurprising to anyone else) side effect of Ford gaining his own network of companions. If the kids are having trouble with their homework he does his best to help, but if it’s some subject he’s not versed in he’s quick to go to his college yearbook and find the name of someone he knew who majored in that field and tells Dipper and Mabel to look them up on the internet because “I hear you can do that now. You can find anyone but Stanley and D.B. Cooper. That’s because your uncle is technically dead and last I saw D.B. Cooper was in the Alibi Dimension.” Dipper reaches out to the alumni sometimes. He becomes sort of pen pals with this old guy who got his film degree at Backupsmore in his forties. The guy’s older than Ford, still works as a professor, and is thrilled to talk with a young, excitable student like Dipper. Mabel reaches out to ANYONE with fashion, dance, music, or any other liberal arts degree. She’s got about 400 LinkedIn connections and a lot of invitations to some family potlucks.

Sometimes even if Ford knows the answers, he still asks Fiddleford to help. It makes Ford happy to visit his friend and hear him proudly explain something that he helped Dipper solve over the phone. Ford tries so hard not to think of a world where this conversation is different, where Fiddleford has clearer eyes and is telling him all about how proud he is watching his Tate grow up.

“No use dwellin’” Fiddleford would say. “Not while we got years ahead.”

And Ford would say “Alright.” And after catching up with his old friend he would excuse himself because it was Friday and the kids would each be expecting a call. He would walk back home and scroll through his phone looking for the kids’ numbers, marveling at how long his contact list has become. How odd, to have lived in a town so long and only now be discovering the people. Oh well. No use dwellin’. Besides, Gravity Falls was full of odd things.

Odd, and often wonderful.

[42ap]

One morning, in the Oregon shack, Stanford, Stanley, and Fiddleford were having breakfast together. Fiddleford brought up a paper he’d recently read, The Evolution of Social Attitudes Towards Homosexual Relationships in 20th-Century America: A Historical Analysis, and shared some of the views it mentioned. For example, gay men might tend to pursue fashionable and personalized styles of clothing and have a higher appreciation for pop music, dance music, and the arts. Additionally, they might show a distinctive social behavior pattern with more frequent and intimate interactions within their social circles.

Stanley: Ha, I always thought men who liked theater were kind of sissy.

Stanford: I think the article oversimplifies things. Just because someone likes art doesn’t mean they’re necessarily gay.

Fiddleford: That’s true, just like being gay doesn’t necessarily mean you enjoy theater. I don’t believe that a gay man’s social behavior can be summarized; there are always exceptions. And those who haven’t acknowledged their orientation haven’t been observed either. They probably just seem like regular people, like you and me.

Fiddleford: Haha, but a guy like Stanley probably wouldn’t be mistaken, right?

Stanley: Oh, no, I’ve been with a guy before. But you can’t tell, right?

Fiddleford: Hold on.

Fiddleford: Raccoons doing the jitterbug! You’ve been with a guy??

Stanley: Yeah, it was a long time ago. We were in high school, and we broke up ages ago.

Fiddleford: Wow… that’s… unexpected, in every way. I thought you were into women; I even saw you flirting with Susan at the diner. Don’t you like women?

Stanley: I’ve only been with that one guy. But I guess gender doesn’t mean much to me—I’m open either way. Sex is just sex; as long as there’s chemistry, it’s fine.

Fiddleford: So, back in high school, it was just about sex? Then I’m not sure that would classify as a gay relationship since straight men do that kind of thing too—sorry if that’s too blunt.

Stanley: No problem, I don’t mind. We’re just chatting. We did go on dates a lot, so I guess we were pretty serious back then.

Fiddleford: So it was a relationship? You must have faced a lot of pressure back then.

Stanley: Yeah, some.

Fiddleford: Who confessed first?

Stanley thinking: I don’t think… anyone confessed. We just ended up together.

Fiddleford: You didn’t talk about it? How does that even happen?

Stanford: It happened naturally, just going with feelings.

Stanley: Lust, that’s what it was.

Fiddleford: Wait, uh, Ford, you knew about this?

Stanford: I did.

Fiddleford: Well, that makes sense; you’re twins, after all. I guess secrets are hard to keep. So, when did you two break up?

Stanley: Right around graduation. He was a good student and wanted to go to college in another city. I didn’t care for school and wanted to work right away. We couldn’t agree, so we just split up.

Fiddleford: You didn’t try long-distance?

Stanley: You know that never works. Thinking that letters and calls can keep a relationship going—that’s a lie told by cowards who don’t have the courage to break up. Right, Ford?

Stanford: True enough.

Fiddleford: Makes sense. Sounds like you’ve thought about this for a long time. So, were you the one who broke it off?

Stanley: No, it wasn’t me.

Fiddleford: Oh… I’m sorry. That must have been hard on you. My first breakup had me crying with my banjo in my room for three days. How long did you cry?

Stanley: I didn’t cry.

Fiddleford: Really?

Stanley: It’s been a long time. Everyone goes through breakups; I don’t care anymore.

Fiddleford: But it was your first love, and you broke up over something like that. It’s a shame. Have you kept in touch since?

Stanley: Yeah, we have.

Fiddleford: And now that you’re both working, you haven’t tried to—

Stanley: —Oh, no. No way. Getting back with an ex is just plain stupid.

Fiddleford: But you were happy together, weren’t you? Honestly, distance isn’t an insurmountable problem, and you didn’t break up because of a loss of love. If it were me, I’d at least try to see if it could work.

Stanley: You’ve got the wrong idea. We broke up pretty badly. But yeah, I still have some good memories.

Fiddleford: Oh?

Stanley: We used to go to the beach a lot. We didn’t do much, just talked. Well, and other things. The beach was right by our town. It was beautiful when there weren’t people around, so we’d skip class and go there in the afternoons. A few years back, when I passed through our hometown, I went to see it. Now it’s a tourist spot, packed with people.

Fiddleford: Skipping class? Didn’t you say he was a good student? Why would he skip class?

Stanley: Yeah, why indeed?

Fiddleford: Right? I mean, with all the homework, studying, and essays, I was constantly busy back then. How did he manage it?

Stanley: Huh, I never thought about that.

Stanley: Ford, how did you manage it back then?

Stanforddrizzling maple syrup on pancakes: Stayed up late doing homework.

Stanley: Ah, so that’s it—stayed up late doing homework.

Fiddleford: Oh.

Fiddleford: Wait, hold on.

[lesbianfiddleford]

HI HELLO i'm lucy and this is my gravity falls sideblog. huge fan of fiddleford mcgucket ❤️ i post art sometimes. my main blog is here!

-> she/her, 19yo, illustration student -> i use this blog to post and reblog fanart, but i'm not always very active on here! -> incest shipper weirdos get blocked

[alicec-666]

"Roommates"

It appeared mainly as an idea, but now... It's this :')

Idk why, but I kinda like it

And, tbh, those guys kinda give me the same vibes. Almost. I can't explain it, but they do

Without text:

[katsrnerstories]

BillDip SlowBurn FanFic Chap. 1

Bill had destroyed Dipper's mind.

It has been a few years since weirdmageddon. Since Dipper and Mabel defeated demons from hellish planes of existence and saved the world and their friends from soul and mind crushing madness.  

Dippers a freshman in college now. It was a moment that he had wished for for years. Highschool had been…

Well it wasn't the worst it could have been. Dipper hit a major glow up around the beginning of junior year (with Mabel's help of course) and life was a little easier. He was asked out on dates, went to a few parties here and there that people dragged him to, had some typical highschool fun in the city...

Until around that same time he started getting replies from colleges his senior year, he started to see Bill again. Every once in a while his mind would wander back to that summer, but it was always the good things or nightmares of the horrors they saw.

It started with just a little glimpse here and there. An eye in the back corner of his periphery, some yellow glimpse in a dark room. 

A ghostly hand on his shoulder.

But these things were nothing to the first time Dipper realized something was wrong.

Dipper saw Bill in his dreams. And those dreams were beyond nightmares.

He had had nightmares before. Nightmares of weirdmageddon were common for both dipper and Mabel. But these… these were real; as much as a dream could be.

Because of Gravity Falls, Dipper really wasn't afraid of a lot of things that would have scared him. The unknown was comforting to him. Maybe because it wasn't too unknown to him and Mabel.

But bill. During those nightmares, brought everything he feared to the frontlines. 

It had been a while since Mabel and him shared a room, so Mabel really didn't know about the fear Dipper experienced those nights. 

She was more focused on getting to LA.

She wants to be a criminal psychoanalyst. To look at the minds of people and figure how they tick. Criminals especially. 

Dipper could swear that Bill had done something to her to make her go down such a dark career path, but he couldn't say anything; he neither had a psychology degree nor was untouched by Bill himself.

Who really knows, it could have been anything else that happened to her in those hellish four years of highschool. 

She had moved away quickly after highschool ended to learn in LA. Of course they facetime and text all the time, but the separation was still felt by both of them.

Everyone missed her presence. Her positivity, her unique personality. 

That had transformed into something much darker come junior and senior year. She found out after a few failed boyfriends that she was not only Asexual, but that guys and even girls, can’t seem to give that part of a relationship up. Some even found it offensive that she felt that way.

Dipper went back to oregon. Of course he was in the city, but on weekends he would visit the Mystery Shack and Gravity Falls. 

Soos was happy to give him one of the rooms in the basement. Sometimes even Grunkle Stan or Grunkle Ford would visit. 

They decided shortly after Dipper and Mabel left that they would travel. Of course Ford's labs still sit under the mystery shack, but when Mabel and Dipper visited Soos the summer of their junior year Ford gave them full control of the labs (as long as Dipper kept everyone safe. Which he did too much annoyance of Mabel)

Soos and his wife at that time had just had a little baby boy, and now have a comfortable four kids, two boys and two girls (three of them were triplets) and run the shack not to much better than Stan did, with the same soul in the campy attractions and overpriced merchandise. 

Wendy is in her senior year at a community college in Oregon city, right around the same place Dipper decided to go to school. They hang out pretty regularly, just around weekly.

Robby left gravity falls as soon as he got his GED. Went for New York, looking for a punk career. He sends Wendy emails every once in a while about his music and where he's at. 

Shockingly, Pacifica stayed in Oregon, going to the same college Dipper goes to. They see each other, and after leaving her family, she found a lot out about herself and became a much better person. 

She found she loved a good smoke and art. Apparently, something she hid from the world was that she loved art. She was probably one of the best artists Dipper had seen. After she left the hell hole of her family, she became really chill. Calm. even nice. 

Her and Dipper have coffee pretty much every day. She was one of the only people who also knew what he had gone through.

And she was the only person who noticed as Dipper got worse and worse for wear. 

Bill had been particularly evil the past few weeks, taking much more joy in Dippers struggle. Long ago Dipper had just sort of given up on screaming for Bill to stop. But he always refused to make a deal with him to stop the fear. Not again. 

“Another nightmare again?” Pacifica asks, as Dipper requests 5 shots of caffeine in his already bitter caffeinated black coffee. 

“Yeah. it's getting harder and harder to say no every night. And honestly the empty dorm isn't helping.” 

“Why don't you just move in with me? I've got an extra room that's got your name written on the door if you want it.” 

Dipper almost accepted, but decided against it. It was kind of weird, no matter how good of friends they were, to live with the ex that made you realized you were gay.

It wasn't her fault, it was just…

He liked a different kind of ass, as Mabel had said when he came out.

No, the daily overpriced coffee meetup was enough. 

“Have you talked about it to Ford? Hes got to know something about it if he went through the same thing?” 

“I don't want to bother them with it. They thought they got rid of Bill that summer, we all did. Bills my problem now.”

Pacifica gives him a knowing look. She knew that he was breaking, but couldn't figure out how to help him. 

“Hows journalism?” Pacifica takes her coffee as she changes the subject.

“As boring as it ever is. Graphic design?”

“As confusing as ever.” Dipper takes a big sip from his steaming coffee. It's a briskly cold morning, enough he brought out his knit set Mabel had made for him on their 18th birthday. He had no shame in wearing it, and it in fact felt comforting today, to know that she was still with him in heart at least.

She never grew out of her sweater thing. She still makes sweaters, using it to get her to the next rent payment sometimes. Everyone can count on a big box with sweaters from her every Christmas here in Oregon. 

With their coffees in hand, Dipper and Mabel head off to campus. And once they made it there they said their goodbyes with a hug and went their separate ways to start the day. 

Dipper wanders into the lecture hall for his advanced maths class. People filter in as he types away on his computer. 

The students around him wanted to be scientists, economists, etc. everyone found it weird that a creative writing major was not only taking advanced maths, this early in the morning, but was killing it. His grades spoke for themselves. 

The class starts and Dipper still types away on his computer. He had been bored the night before as he was staving off sleeping and had read a chapter ahead in their textbook. He taught himself the three hour lesson that day in an hour. 

It was no doubt that Dipper took after his great uncle Stanford. Grunkle Ford told him at one point that Dipper reminded him of a young Dr. Fiddleford. Dipper didn't really like being compared to the scientist that started a whole cult under Gravity Falls before going batshit crazy himself for a very long time.

He only hoped that he wouldn't end up like him. He didn't want to be some crazy man who roams the town. 

Dipper had a story that he needed to finish for his next class. He had started to wear away the stories of Gravity Falls with his creative writing classes that he now had to actually think about what story to write. Mabel helped him out with the premise of the story last night. So he spent that class writing a simple flash fiction of one roaming the backrooms. (an urban legend Mabel had read about in an article somewhere.)

He found comfort in knowing that one thing did not exist to him. That one thing did not sit in the pits of Gravity Falls waiting for Dipper or one of them to unearth it.

The story reminded Dipper of falling through the endless pit just outside the Mystery Shack. A hole where they reminisced on days of the summer as they spent the day, or who knows how long, falling. they were all lucky that it was not, truly, endless. 

And quickly the story was finished and the class closed early. 

Dipper went for an early lunch. He scrolls through his phone, seeing Mabels three new instagram posts and all the other people she introduced him to. 

After Mabel found out Dipper was gay, she went on a mission to hook him up with some LA guy. Oregons not terrible with their acceptance, but it's not something to be very open about. Plus Dipper wasn't the kind to walk pride without someone like Mabel hyping the both of them up. Because god knows that she needs just as much hyping up with who she is as Dipper.

When he walks into his empty apartment, anxiety wells up in Dippers chest. Quickly he turns on the TV, letting it run as white noise as he makes his lunch. The apartment had been empty since his recent relationship ended. Dipper is glad it ended, as the abuse just got too much; yet it was bad for Dipper to be left alone with his thoughts. Especially in an apartment that seemed to hold so much sadness and bad memories.

Mabel, after helping Dippers style, had made him a whole cookbook for him. It had all different kinds of foods, but the main dishes all were healthy. She had gone on a fitness rampage her sophomore year and had never truly grown out of it. It was from a bad place, but she turned it to a positive. As she always does. 

She had told him that it was the first thing other than sleep to keep alive longer. She had made him promise that he would try to stay alive. 

At this point it was the only thing keeping Dipper alive. 

Bill had taxed his mind so much it was rare to find him not paranoid. Bill made Dippers anxiety beyond chronic, and the lack of sleep did not help his depression. 

That had developed after Pacifica. It wasn't because of the break up, more at the fact that she had helped him so much. 

She had accepted him being gay. She had helped him gain friends during their relationship, and she even helped him when money wasn't the best. 

All this caused his anxiety to get to his head. 

What if they think I’m evil for breaking it off with her? What if she'll never want to see me again? What if, what if, what if…

His depression had just gotten  worse after the breakup and dealing with being alone again. It was the reason Dipper stayed with someone like that for so long. 

All of the depression and anxiety ended up crashing down at the same time Bill Cypher ended up crashing into the picture. 

At that point Bill only came to terrorise Dipper a few nights a month. It was easier to deal with.  Now it's every night.

Dipper finishes making his food, sitting down in front of the TV to watch a show on Netflix. 

He had been getting through the true crime shows. He swore that eventually he'd eventually either run a show like it with Mabel or be one of the cold cases lost to the world. 

Yet within only a few minutes Dipper not only found himself asleep, but stuck in the mindscape. 

“Been trying to avoid me, Pine Tree?”

Dipper no longer was shocked by Bill's voice. In fact the more and more he heard his voice, the more and more it began to sound almost human.

[rhodochrosite-love]

College Ford x shy! male! reader

Hi! Dedicating this to @lantern-light-and-starry-skies and @guilty-pleasures-abound for the great idea!  I hope my writing suffices, it’s a lil angsty ;n;

Title- Hopes for the Hopeless

Pairing- Ford x reader, Backupsmore Ford x reader

Characters- Stanford Pines, You, Fiddleford McGucket, unnamed professors, unnamed students

Summary- You live in your own little world, full of fantasy and surprises.  What happens when campus genius Ford Pines makes his way into your bubble?

Tags- Heartbreak, angst, sorry guys it’s sad, male!reader, though nothing’s specifically pointed to you being male, it’s fine, shy!reader, fluff, Ford x reader

Backupsmore University was a land of missed opportunities and disappointment.  If you were gifted, it didn’t matter.  You were in the deep, dark maw that was Backupsmore and there was almost nothing you could do about it once you were enrolled.

Almost.

If you partner up with the college’s 2+2 program, it got you out of there within two years with the credits necessary to take the next level of courses in your major somewhere else.  It was a win-win for both the college and the students, for obvious reasons.  

That’s why you were here.  You double majored in Art and Creative Writing, which always seemed to bore more than half of the people who asked (most being family).  You always assure them, however, that you are the best in class.  After all, you were told so by the one and only brainiac on campus; Stanford Pines.

When you first met him, he struck you as a bright-eyed, wildly curious geek.  Not to say that you weren’t a geek yourself-- the Tolkien books weighing down your book bag certainly proved that.  But the way he challenged the professor at least once every class period struck you as both odd and fascinating.  You had always wondered what it was like to be that enthusiastic and curious, like many were once.

So when Stanford had been urged to observe his classmates as per instruction (don’t just pursue yourself, compare yourself, Pines!), and had leaned in to glance at your work, you were surprised by how much interest he had taken into it.  “This linework is impeccable, how did you manage to get that consistency with that pen?!” or “Your shading style compliments the negative space of the page very well!”

It was safe to say that after that, you were smitten with him.

Your desires to transfer to another school were slowly being abandoned with the hopes that he would notice you, poor ol’ you, in any way possible.  You tried wearing something other than your jeans and sweatshirt for something a little catchier, but he didn’t seem to notice.  You tried casually flirting with him, which turned into you just blabbering on and on about naked mole rats, which was awkward for the both of you.  You even tried to read up on books that could potentially teach you how to ‘catch a man’, but anything like that was classified as cheesy romance novels that all the middle-aged professors and freshman girls were checking out from the library, so you were left in the dust.  To simply daydream in your own little world, what it would be like to hold his wonderfully weird hands, to see him smile just for you, to lean in for a kiss at the same time and feel the affection radiating off of him… 

“Y/N?  Are you with me?”  Your thoughts were interrupted by Ford, who was walking beside you up a short flight of stairs.  You flushed red, and quickly reassured him that you, in fact, were.  And totally not dozing off.  Not at all.  

The genius chuckled, “Well, I certainly hope not!  I wouldn’t want you passing out, especially on the stairs!  What an awful place to fall...”  You nodded, your cheeks a pretty pink now.  That’s right, you were going to Ford’s dorm.  Not for anything scandalous!  The two of you were studying for quite a while at your apartment just off campus.  And seeing as though you didn’t want him to stress about his term paper that ‘still needed reworking’, you wanted to drive him back. You’ve been there, totally stressful…. Although you couldn’t help but wonder what may have happened if he decided to stay the night?

“Glad ya’ could join me, Ford, at…”  A southern voice sounded from the darkness of the room, “... 1:47 in th’morinin’.  Where’ve you been all darn night, huh?”  “Certainly not at any jug-band concerts, I’ll have you know.”  Ford responded hastily, turning to set up the table in the corner to continue his term paper.  

You turned to Ford’s roommate, offering a small wave of hello.  He perked up at the sight of a guest, and smiled fondly.  “You’re Y/N I presume?”  You’re cheeks went pink again, and asked the man how he knew you.  He laughed, “Ford talks about ya’ sometimes!  Y’seem like a real nice fella’, is all.”  He reaches out a long-fingered hand for you to shake, “Fiddleford McGucket.  Pleased t’meetcha!”  You nod in agreement, a few moments later finding yourself looking around on Ford’s side of the dorm before quickly saying goodnight to the both of them and exiting.

You had become more embarrassed by yourself than you ever had before.  You had imagined all sorts of both innocent and lewd situations with the brainiac and yourself there in his dorm… They were all so vivid that you could almost reach out and make them all reality.

You came to a logical conclusion.

You were gonna get a haircut.  

It wasn’t all that intense, really.  Before, your hair ended at about shoulder-length and was often unkempt, but now it widened out, exposing your ears and brushing your bangs off to the side ever so carefully.  You looked in the mirror that afternoon and finally decided on what to do… You were going to tell him how you feel.  

The following day, when 9:30 rolled around for Drawing and Painting class, you wore your best duds-- high waisted slacks with a button up shirt with two, no THREE, buttons undone from the top, and the sleeves rolled up to your elbows.  All complete with sleek, dark shoes and a casual belt with a silver buckle, you felt like you could do anything you wanted!  It had to go positive when you looked this good, right?

“I’m sorry… I’m afraid I don’t feel the same.”

You leaned away from Ford.  What did he say?

“I… I don’t feel the same, Y/N.”

Shit, you said that out loud?  Fuck.  Why did this happen?  Why does this always have to happen…

You always get your hopes up with a guy, don’t you?  You always end up being disappointed by what you can’t have-- Correction, by what you’ve never even had in the first place.  You really thought it could be possible to love someone, even after your last breakup?  Stanford was different, but apparently not, according to the situation at hand.  Fuck, how could you be so stupid?!

“Hey.. Hey, please don’t-- Don’t cry.  I’m sorry, I really am!  I’m not looking for a relationship right now… I thought you knew that, please don’t cry.”

You both stood there now, outside the classroom, 3 feet apart from where you were; your hand was on his arm, the other hand close to your chest.  Now they were both clenched against each other, trying to find some way to escape your body as hot tears flew from your eyes like someone turned on a sprinkler.

You hadn’t even realized you were crying until he pointed it out to you, to which you turned away from his gaze and avoided it.  You apologized, too, mostly on instinct, and promised that you’d never bother him again, quickly turning to leave.

Ford suddenly grabbed your arm after a single moment of hesitation, “Y/N, wait!”  You turned to look at him-- your eyes beginning to puff up and turn a shade of pink, letting your tears drip down off your chin, you waited for him to say something (anything!) before shaking him off and running to your car.

After throwing yourself in the driver’s seat, you started up the engine, both hands clenched on the wheel.  After holding in everything from the previous moment to the wheel, you finally let go.  Wailing and weeping, similar to a child.  However, you would think that would be associated with selfishness or with tantrum.

No, you cried like a child who’s dreams were crushed.  Who’s hopes were burnt like the cheapest wood in the forest.

You wondered how long the heartbreak would last this time.

If you made it to here, I thank you!  This certainly isn’t my first time writing but it was fun to do!  Leave a comment or a like and I’d love to talk to anyone about our favorite boy!

[viviarts-c]

Part three of my Mystery Trio College AU!

Stanley is just asking Fidds for calc tips-- it's not really a date yet.

Stanley doesn't want Ford to meet Fidds so soon because...he's worried that Fidds will like Ford more because he's smarter and leave Stanley behind :')

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 3.5 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9

Valentine's Day Special

[bridgingdimensions]

hello fiddleford!!! i dont know how much of the blog you've read, but just in case itd propawbly be good to introduce myself. im marley, (hehim or theythem pronouns in a lesbian way), im a college student, i like mostly the arts but the sciences are supurr cool too and i have two pet rats! im from the midwest usa too. how are you?

Hewwowdy, Marley. I’m doing alright. Went through a couple of small little alarms, just hearing about the pandemic and the zodiac killer and whatnot. Really sorry about some of all that for y’all, by the way.

I’m sure you probably figured this enough by the pronouns Ford used for me, but he and him are what works for me and I’m bi myself.

[nxgfcx]

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[tinfoil-jones]

Jerk Ford AU: And This is Jack*ss

Their high school science teacher said "A perpetual motion machine is only hypothetical, because it is impossible, since its existence would violate the first and second laws of thermodynamics."

And Jerk Ford in response said "Hold my beer."

[Art by: @tearosepedall]

While he was building that (and the school was investigating whether or not Ford was actually drinking underaged), Stan had another set of worries.

At this point the twins had both already talked about applying to Backupsmore together, and while Stan was still worried about a potential separation, this time it wasn't because he was afraid of being left behind.

This time he was freaking out because if he went to Backupsmore while his brother went to West Coast Tech, who was going to keep Ford reigned in??

If Stan wasn't there to minimize the damage, who's to say his fellow students and college administration wouldn't chase him out of the whole state with pitchforks and torches or something?!

Stan wasn't protective over Ford in this AU because he didn't need to be protected from anything except maybe himself. If anything, everything else needed to be protected from him.

---

In a random dimension at an undetermined time between the 1980s and 2012, Jerk Ford and one of the many variations of Rick Sanchez pass each other on the street.

"What a d**k." They both think at the same time, but say nothing.

---

This is the same man who, despite also being aromantic, spent an entire year pretending to court an all-seeing, two-dimensional, demon triangle.

Jerk Ford had romantic speeches, lovey-dovey praises, drew detailed, flattering sketches, and built a functioning interdimensional portal that he wasn't intending to use.

Just to say that he catfished a God.

The limit to his jackassery remains to be seen.

---

Most interactions with other people on an informal level (and also formal) are handled by Stan on Fords behalf, otherwise nothing would ever get done.

Stanley had to actually beg Fiddleford to help Stanford with the portal project. Fiddleford and Ford are friends, but Fiddleford can only handle Ford for so long before he's absolutely done.

As for the construction of the cabin... a paid job is a paid job, but anything that required direct interaction was solely taken care of by Stan, or Ford as long as Stan was close by to mediate. Because the one time Boyish Dan tried discussing plans with Ford alone, it ended with Boyish Dan agreeing with construction plans only if Ford agreed to take the farthest available plot of land.

---

Yes, I am familiar with Nine Lives Lee selling his own hate merch. But no, Jerk Ford does not make, distribute, or sell his own hate merch. He was never an enterprising spirit.

However, he does steal his own hate merch. He's done it the times he snuck into their club meetings. The shirt he wears under his hoodie is actually a Ford Hate Club shirt; it's a long sleeved black shirt with this logo on the front:

That is The (Jerk) Ford Hate Club official logo, because they don't hate all Stanford Pines across that multiverse, just that guy in particular.

---

Jerk Ford's antics are often compared to skits from the tv and film series "Jackass", in fact the name of his dimension "PJC311" is derived from the host Johnny Knoxville, whose real name is Philip John Clapp, and whose birthday is 1971/03/11.

The funny, ironic thing, is that this is what older Knoxville looks like:

Considering that Jerk Ford is thin compared to Canon Ford...

Yeah, that's Jerk Ford guys.

[kittykat-creations]

Edibles

Based off this which was created with help from @radioactivedelorean and @primepulse. Also Prime has some great art for it too that everyone should look at and adore.

And here’s where I put the disclaimer that I’ve never been high, or else I fear that I’ll be made fun of for writing it wrong or something. All I have is a bit of research and the knowledge that apparently it’s not the same for everyone.

For autistic people (AKA Ford (although he doesn’t know he’s autistic here) and Bella), I’ve read, it can either seriously help or seriously hinder. For Ford, it hinders him. Semi/nonverbal, increased sensory issues, constant meltdown state, ect.

“Brownies’re done, Bella.”

“Yip yip!” Bella cheered, bouncing up from Fiddleford’s bed and over to the small kitchen area. 

“Just gotta frost ‘em,” Fiddleford told her. “Can ya pour out two cups’a milk?”

“Ah’m on it,” Bella nodded, pulling a half gallon of milk out of the fridge and pouring it into two cups.

“An’ Stanford shouldn’ be back ‘til late; when is he ever not?” Fiddleford chuckled.

“An’ the movie starts in three hours,” Bella added. “Meanin’ we should leave in two hours if we wanna get there early on public transportation.”

“Good point,” Fiddleford nodded. He took two of the brownies and set them on a plate, which he then put on the table. Bella broke a piece of hers off with a fork and ate it.

“Mm! Fidds, yer brownies are the best,” she grinned. “Pot or not. Hehe. Pot or not. that rhymes.”

“Thank ya, Bella,” Fiddleford smiled and took a bite of his own brownie.

“Fiddleford, I’m back,” Ford announced as he entered the dorm, only to be met with nothing. He switched on the light and looked around the empty room. “Oh, right, they’re at the movies.”

He set his bag down on his bed and several books spilled out. He looked at the time on his watch, doing some quick math in his head.

“I should probably eat,” he mused. “I only had some cereal this morning.” He spotted a plate of brownies on the counter, wrapped in plastic wrap. “Fiddleford must have made brownies. ...I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if I had one.”

Ford smiled and uncovered the plate of brownies, taking one and biting into it. He hummed happily, finishing the brownie as he tidied up some of his work.

“Wow, Fiddleford is a great cook,” Ford said to himself. He side-eyed the plate of brownies thoughtfully. “...I’m sure one more wouldn’t hurt.”

Fiddleford hummed as he entered his dorm, stumbling slightly. The movie (Fiddleford couldn’t even remember what it was about) had gone quicker than it should have. Not that Fiddleford wasn’t used to the skewed time perception. It happened quite a lot when he was high.

He looked around the dark dorm, spotting Ford curled up at the foot of his bed. Ford was mumbling something Fiddleford couldn’t hear, while clutching at his hair and rocking slightly.

“Stanford?” Fiddleford spoke, approaching him. Ford jumped and looked up at him. His eyes were red. “...Ford, are you high?”

Ford mumbled quietly- Fiddleford thought he heard various elements from the Periodic Table- and nodded, although seemingly in confusion. Fiddleford sighed, looking towards the kitchen area and seeing that the plate of pot brownies was uncovered and half of them were missing.

“Good Lord. Stanferd, how many’a these things did ya have?!” Fiddleford’s eyes widened.

“Uhhhhhh...”

That was the first sound Fiddleford had heard from Ford that wasn’t jumbled nonsense. Fiddleford pinched the bridge of his nose, which, in hindsight, was probably a bad idea, as it made everything a bit more swirly. He slowly kneeled down in front of Ford, who was still mumbling and rocking.

“Ok, Ford-” Fiddleford gently set his hands on Ford’s shoulders, but Ford jumped away from him and the mumbling became more agitated. “Ok, Ah won’ touch ya.” 

Fiddleford held his hands up next to his sides. Ford’s eyes darted between them and his mumbled calmed a little, and Fiddleford was able to make out a few more elements.

“Ford, Ah’m pretty sure yer experiencin’ a marijuana overdose, which ain’t unexpected considerin’ the amount of edibles you’ve consumed,” Fiddleford explained quietly.

“Overdose...” Ford muttered, glancing at Fiddleford’s eyes for a second. “Overdose, overdose, overdose, overdose, overdose...”

Ford repeated the word over and over under his breath. It reminded Fiddleford of Bella when she had a sensory overload. At least Fiddleford knew he was a bit aware of his surroundings.

“Alright, um... Ah don’ exactly know what ta due in case of an overdose,” Fiddleford said. He frowned slightly, standing up and pacing back and forth across the room. “Ah can’ call an ambulance, no way. We’d get arrested. Is there anyway ta get someone off’a a high? Arg, Ah can’t think!”

Fiddleford squeezed his eyes shut and clutched the sides of his head. Colors swirled behind his eyelids. They were kind of pretty. And his hair felt really soft...

“No, Fiddleford, focus,” he muttered. “Focus. Um...”

“Ffffiddleford.”

The older man spun towards Ford, wobbling slightly. Ford was looking up at him, still rocking and clutching his hair, but looking at him.

“Fiddleford. Fiddleford, Fiddleford, Fiddleford...”

Fiddleford chuckled slightly, taking a deep breath and letting it out. Ford’s rocking slowed a bit as Fiddleford sat down in front of him. He repeated his name for another moment, causing Fiddleford to smile.

“Calm.”

At that, Fiddleford burst out laughing, and he couldn’t stop. In his defense, he was still high. Ford began laughing as well, and soon both students were sprawled across the floor, laughing as loud as their vocal cords would allow them. Fiddleford was pretty sure he heard someone yell at them to keep it down, but he wasn’t listening completely.

The laughter slowly died down, leaving Ford and Fiddleford on the floor next to each other. Ford grinned, his eyes darting around Fiddleford’s face. Fiddleford’s eyes did the same, bouncing more between Ford’s eyes and his lips. Fiddleford slowly reached out and took Ford’s hand.

“Ya feelin’ better?” He asked quietly, afraid he’d shatter this seemingly-fragile moment if he spoke above a whisper.

“Better,” Ford replied in a whisper. 

“Good.”

After another minutes, Fiddleford rolled over a bit and pulled the fluffy blanket Bella had given him from his bed, covering him and Ford. Ford smiled, feeling the blanket between his fingers as Fiddleford cuddled up to him, breathing out and closing his eyes. Ford felt oddly comforted by Fiddleford’s body against his, and laid there with him for a long while.

“...hungry,” he whispered suddenly, drawing a sleepy chuckle from Fiddleford, who was nearly asleep.

“Yeah, weed’ll do that.”

[thelastspeecher]

oh yeah that ficlet I posted last week, with spy AU Stangie?  Angie’s day job is like, a professor at WCT.  

when Stan and Ford first meet Angie outside the context of being spies, it’s fuckin whiplash, bc Fiddleford described his younger sister as a sweet teacher whose students love her.  Stan and Ford were expecting this mysterious McGucket to be some elementary school art teacher or something

but nope, it’s the woman that they saw kneecap a guy last Wednesday.