#especially when writing about stanford pines of all people

[gin-juice-tonic]

"Have you considered the doyalist stance"

My doyalist stance is when you choose to write a book written by Bill Cipher as opposed to showing things from a 3rd person omniscent perspective you're inherently dousing everything with a healthy dose of "There's a good chance he's lying"

[mills-73]

Don’t Stop

After 30 years in another dimension, Stanford is quite inexperienced in the women department, although he does know how to pleasure you quite well.

TAGS: 18+, smut; dude is touch-starved, do you see where this is going? mild humiliation (you tease him and he gets horny), p in v, cunningligous

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

You never knew Stan had a twin brother up until recently.

You came into work, seeing double, thinking you had some serious brain damage, before Stan explained the situation to you. His name was Stanford—which confused you until that was also explained—and he’d been trapped in another dimension for thirty years. Heaven knows that alone threw you for a loop.

Dimension? Portals? Total baloney. But hey, it’s Gravity Falls, so it’s 99% likely to be true. And with one look at Ford, you believed it instantly.

He truly looked like he was out of place here, like he spent so long somewhere else that he didn’t know how to fit in anymore. He was paranoid and definitely had a loose screw or something with the way he tore apart the Mystery Shack “just in case he’s here.” You had no idea who this “he” person could be, but you didn’t question it.

Stan finally, after months of being here and begging him to let you in on the secrets of the Mystery Shack, finally spilled the beans to you. You soaked up every word with a smile on your face.

When Ford actually noticed that you were in the room with them, he stopped dead in his tracks and just kind of stared at you, a small tint of coral flowing over the bridge of his nose. You could barely see it because of his glasses, but then his cheeks puffed a little and you knew he was embarrassed about what you just witnessed him doing.

You introduced yourself to him, attempting to shake his six-fingered hand. He politely refused. You and Stan shared a look of unease but otherwise left Ford alone for the time being.

You went about your day, Stan leading a group of tourists through the museum as you sat at the counter and observed Ford looking at every object in the room. If there was anything yellow or triangle shaped he threw it away despite your protests.

He seemed a little weird, you thought. Handsome as fuck, but weird. Especially when he’d just stare at you when he thought you weren’t looking, almost as if he didn’t think you were real. You didn’t think it was creepy or anything, but almost cute, maybe. He seemed so interested in you, squinting his eyes, tilting his head, even going as far as to come up to you and poke your shoulder. You only raised an eyebrow at him when he did that and he rushed out an apology and quickly left. You didn’t see him for a few days after that.

When you did, he carried a worn, brown leather journal in his hands. He sat in the gift shop with you and wrote in it for the rest of the day, giving you the occasional glance over his glasses.

You wanted to know what his deal was with you, but you couldn’t really outright ask him. He probably just felt weird being around people he didn’t really know all that well. Although, even if that was the case, why would he actively sit in a room with them? You decided not to think too much about it or your head was going to explode.

What you were really curious about was what he was writing. Stan had told you yesterday that he wrote three journals documenting the paranormal creatures and anomalies he’s found throughout his time in Gravity Falls. It sounded interesting enough, and you wanted to ask him about everything he knew. But he had just come back from being in another dimension, so you thought it’d be best to give him some space before you bombard him with question upon question.

For the remainder of the day, he didn’t talk to you. And he wouldn’t for a few weeks. But he was always keeping an eye out.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

Your interest is piqued at very best when it comes to the mind of Stanford Pines. Him and that damn journal he keeps on him at all times now has you tracking his every movement when he’s around, trying your damnedest to get a peek at what he’s writing. But whenever you get close enough he snaps it shut and immediately pretends he's finished with whatever he was doing.

Now you’re even more curious.

How can you make him leave that journal behind for just a few moments so you can take a peek inside? You figure he’s not stupid enough to leave it behind if he goes somewhere, so you ask Stan to swipe it for you while he’s sleeping.

“You owe me twenty bucks, kid.”

The next day, Stan slips you the journal, holding his hand out for the money you owe him. You sigh and slap it in his hand.

“Tell no one.”

You roll your eyes and sneak off to the roof to read it. You feel a little bad about invading his privacy like this, but you have to know what he’s writing about all the damn time. It’s like a plague that can only be cured by reading the journal's contents.

You open it to the first page and your lips part in a gasp.

There’s multiple doodles of what looks like you scattered around, your name repeated over and over and then crossed out. You flip the page. It’s a journal only dedicated to you, your behavior, drawings of your face. There’s one page in particular that looks as if Ford went on a deep dive off the dark end.

Ford seems fascinated with you. You trace the ink lines of his pen with your finger, your eyes flickering over each word. He mentions at one point that he doesn’t think you’re real, going as far as to say you’re a succubus sent to make him lose his mind. Which is a little far out, but it makes you laugh. A sex demon? Really?

The other things he says about you is a little…weird to say the least.

“Could this be another one of Bill’s tricks? Is he trying to control me by using her? I need to check her eyes.”

The phrase “look at her eyes” is repeated over and over again across countless pages. More drawings here and there and comments about how he can’t stop thinking about you. He expresses he understands what’s happening to him so he’s writing all of it down, watching you for the better part of his day just to see if he can figure you out.

It’s kind of cute.

You assume that because he’s been gone for so long he doesn’t know how to approach you to actually try and talk to you. Or maybe he just likes observing from a distance.

Whatever the case, you snap the journal closed and stare off into the forest.

You have an opportunity to tease him for the stuff you’ve found, but is that too cruel? He’d blush so beautifully if you ever told him what you found out.

You think for a minute.

It’s not that cruel.

With a smirk, you climb back down the latter to the gift shop, spotting Ford turning over everything in sight. You know what he’s looking for, so you just stand there and smile.

“Looking for this?” You wave the journal around, watching his back stiffen and his eyes widen.

“H-How did you get that?”

You shrug your shoulders, flipping it open. Ford rushes for you and snatches it out of your hands, holding it close to his chest. His face is pink and his eyes look fearful.

“Very interesting topics you chose to write about. Is that your latest research?” You tease, stepping closer to him.

Ford swallows thickly. “You—You weren’t supposed to see that. How did you even—?” He blush deepens, a hand reaching to scratch at the back of his neck.

You feign innocence and smile sweetly at him. “I’m very curious to know about this succubus. I thought they were just myth?” He looks around as if he’s hoping someone will come in and save him from his embarrassment. “It’s cute you thought I was one. I’m very honored you see me like that, Ford.”

“It’s not what it looks like! I promise,” he raises his voice. “

“Then what is it like, Ford? Hm?” You reach your hand out, running your fingers down the side of his face. You delight in his shiver. “Because it seems to me that you like me.”

Ford stutters over his words, his eyes flickering to your lips. “I don’t know what you mean.”

You shrug. “If you say so.”

You begin to walk around him, ending the conversation, but he grabs you by the arm and stops you, whispering a soft “Wait.”

Your eyes meet and you smile. “Yes?”

“What…What didn’t think of it?”

“Of the journal?” He nods. You smile. “It was interesting.”

He’s silent, looking at your lips as his tongue darts out and wets his own. You lean in, whispering against the shell of his ear. “Do you like me, Ford?”

His gulp is audible. “I’d say I’m…I’mintrigued by you.”

“Only intrigued?” Your fingers run down his arm to his hand, your thumb running over his knuckles. His intake of breath makes you smirk. “I think you’re a bit more than that, handsome.”

After a few moments he admits "I find you stimulating."

You giggle at him. You turn you head so your lips are inches apart, loving how he eyes your mouth with ferocious need. "How stimulating?"

Without a seconds thought, he crashes his lips against yours, dropping his journal to the ground so he can grip your hips in his hands. You gasp in surprise but simmer into the kiss.

He's a little sloppy with it but you don't mind all that much, kissing him back with enough fervor that has him moaning into your mouth.

Ford pushes you up against the wall of the Shack, whimpering breathlessly as he bites at your bottom lip. Your hands come up to wrap around his neck, your fingers deftly running over the ends of his hair. He moans and begins to pepper kisses down your jaw and to your neck.

"Ford," you moan, trying to get his attention. "Ford, wait. We can't do this here."

He murmurs something under his breath before dragging you by your hands to another room of the shack. It's his bedroom.

You look at him, noting the need planted all over his face. You never really thought of him like this before, but seeing him actually want you like a crazed mad-man has your heart stuttering in your chest.

Before you know it, he’s on you again, pushing you towards the bed and climbing on top of you. His hips rut against yours as he licks into your mouth, his hands slipping underneath the hem of your shirt. He seems so desperate for you, and you guess spending thirty years without someone to fuck time to time would have its effects on someone. Hell, you don’t even know if you could go thirty years without sex.

The feel of his fingers on your skin sends a jolt of fire to your core, your heart rate picking up as you realize how far he wants to go with this. His erection is pressing against your thigh, so unbelievably hard that you understand his neediness.

“Your skins so soft,” he whispers against your lips, giving you one last chaste peck before sitting up, admiring you from above. “Do you want to do this with me? Because I really…” he gazes down your body. “I swear you put a spell on me or something.”

You laugh at his remark, sitting up on your elbows. “I want this.”

At your consent, he kisses you again, his hands roaming over every inch your body. You arch into his touch, sighing into his mouth when his thumbs run across your nipples.

“Is this okay?” He whispers, a little unsure. He tweaks at each bud, a shiver in running down your spine.

“Yes,” you breathe. “It’s perfect, Ford.”

He slips your shirt over your head, tossing it to the side, leaving your bra. His lips trail down your neck to the top of your breasts, your fingerings burying themselves in his hair as he kisses each one. He pulls the pads of your bra down, the cool air making your nipples pepper in response.

Ford’s mouth latches on to your right tit, his tongue lapping around. A moan drags itself from the back of your throat, sitting up slightly to unclasp the fabric from your body. His other hand comes up to give attention to your other boob, pinching and tweaking at your nipple.

He praises your breasts with his mouth before moving downwards, quickly ridding your body of the rest of your clothes, leaving you bare and vulnerable for him.

“It’s—” he chuckles nervously. “—It’s been a while since I’ve done this, if I’m being honest.” He licks his lips and leans down between your thighs, kissing the skin tenderly. You shutter. “Let me know if I’m doing things right.”

You nod and he kisses you again, trailing up to the spot between your thighs, the stipple of his beard scratching you in ways that make you tremble.

Slowly, teasingly, he begins to lap at your folds, tasting your essence. He hums softly, seemingly lost in the sensation as the pleasure builds higher and higher. Your fingers find their way to his hair, pulling gingerly at the grey strands.

"Oh, fuck," you cry as he sucks at your clit. "You're doing so fucking good. Oh my god!"

At your praise, he seems to go harder, the vulgar sounds of your own wetness and his tongue echoing off the walls. You feel one of his fingers slip inside you, his tongue never stopping it's ministrations against you clit.

You cry out as he begins to finger you slowly. Pressure begins to form low in your gut, wrapping around the bottom of your spine. He adds another finger after a moment, scissoring them inside of you.

His other arm comes up to wrap around your hips, holding you in place as he curls his fingers, making you gasp. Your orgasm is fast approaching and you don't know if you can hold it off for too much longer.

Another nip to your clit and a particularly rough thrust inside, you shatter. Your thighs shake graciously as he helps you through your orgasm, quickly becoming almost overstimulating that you have to beg him to have mercy on you.

He smiles up at you from between your legs, his lips glistening with your slick. "Was that okay?"

Still breathless, you nod. "You did so good, handsome." His glasses are foggy and a little crooked and you reach out and fix them. "Did you want to do more?"

He groans. "Yes, please. I need more."

"Then take what you need, honey," you tease, spreading you leg further.

Ford is quick to remove his clothes, his cock hard and the tip an angry shade of red. "Don't laugh if I don't last very long," he murmurs, sliding back between your legs, dragging the tip along your folds.

You bite your lip at the feeling, bucking your hips to invite him to push inside. As he does, you gasp. He's not entirely huge, but he's thick, and he streaches you out perfectly.

He feels fucking amazing.

When he bottoms out, he falls over you, holding himself up by his arms. He shutters, his eyes closing as he looses himself inside of you. Ford pulls out, shallowing thrusting inside of you. You purr at the feeling, meeting his movements, soft moans slipping past your lips.

He picks up the speed, pulling out completely and slamming back inside of you, hitting your sweet spot just right, causing you to throw your head back in a silent scream.

Ford fucks you slow and hard, the sound of skin meeting skin and vulgar yet breathy moans filling the room. He whimpers above you, his cock twitching inside you.

"Fuck, Ford. You're fucking me so well," you cry, wrapping your legs around his waist. "Please. Go faster."

"I-I don't think I can, darlin'," he gasps.

"Then let me ride you."

He groans at your words, slipping out of you after a few seconds. You flip the two of you over, settling on top. You guide the head of his cock inside, lowering yourself down until he fills you up perfectly.

Ford stares up at you, lips parted in awe. You start to grind down on him, moving your hips in a circular motion.

"Fuck," he whines, "you're amazing."

You start to bounce up and down, holding yourself up by your hands on his chest, your nails grazing over his skin. He flexs his hips upwards to meet your hips, not being able to hold his moans of pleasure back.

"Please," he begs. "Don't stop."

You weren't planning on it, riding him like your life depends on it. The stimulation to your clit and the tip of his cock hitting you just right has you falling over the edge not even a minute later, your legs spasming as a second orgasm washes over you.

His own moans become more strained and whiney, and you know he's close as he begins to pump inside of you, matching your rhythm.

"Cum for me, Ford," You say, breathless and desperate for him to fill you up.

He throws his head back, mouth drooped open as his hands come up to your hips. He grips them roughly, fucking up into you roughly, making you scream out in pleasure. He's whimpering and groaning and you feel him spill inside of you seconds later, fucking you through his orgasm.

Your breaths fill the air around, your body slumping onto of his.

"You were great," you mumble into his neck.

You feel him turn away, hiding his face into his shoulder. "I, uh...t-thanks."

You giggle. "Don't be getting all shy on me now."

Slowly, you roll off of him, Ford hissing at the stimulation. He pushes his foggy glasses up on his face, not daring to meet your eyes.

"Was it okay?" he mumbles. "It's been a little while and--"

"It was more than okay, Ford." You smile. "I hope we can do it more often."

He looks over at you, a blush on his cheeks. "I'd...I'd be okay with that."

You smirk, giving him a kiss. "Good."

~

ARTWORK BY @pumafysketch

ty for reading! i honestly hate this but it's wtv. i’ll probably write more but anyway

tags: @loslox @emgrth

[pix-writes]

Do you think Stan and Ford care for appearances? And do you think they have a certain type or is something they don't think much? Love your writing btw 🥹

A/N: thank you! I'm glad you like it 😊

Well, thinking about the pines twins they have certainly had rough lives and been thrust into environments/situations where taking care of themselves and their appearances aren't top priority, so I think especially at their current age, they're not likely to be judgemental on appearances when it comes to a prospective partner (plus ford and stan canonically have tattoos/scars they're embarrassed or insecure about!)

Stanford I think especially so, in the sense that appearance to him is less of an issue to him than the contents of your brain, any quirks of yours filed away as fascinating eccentricities of a person of remark. He knows full well what it's like for people to judge you based on the surface, since many will freak out over his six fingers and whilst curious about you, will also be sensitive to insecurities you may have 🥹

I think Ford would want someone who is at least a little orderly like he is, his environment can be quite scattered with papers and experiments, sure, but he has had to take care of himself and his appearance jumping dimensions, so he believes you can do it if he does :) (says the man who lights his face on fire instead of shaving cause it's 'faster' 😅 and eats nutrition pills instead of lunch - you can teach him a thing or two as well!)

Stanley on the other hand does often jokes around about lots of things to do with general appearances, including ribbing dipper and mabel, though he's very quick to notice when someone is feeling upset/insecure or potentially angry to not take it as a joke or might find it cutting (it's just that most of the people he does this to are people he wants to anger on purpose lol 😂 thinking of the dunk tank). But you're not a person to scam, so I feel he'd be sensitive to that, underneath the exterior he's fairly sensitive himself and as we've seen with dipper, he wants him to be tough, not just physically but to have a thick skin when it comes to being judged by others, you can't stop doing things in life just cause others wanna bring you down! That's why he does tease sometimes and it can seem mean from the outside, but he simply wants you to be stronger than you already are.

Stanley has some pretty 'trashy' tastes we could say, but takes care of his appearance as mr mystery, so I think he'd enjoy being with someone who also likes to dress up a bit to go out, but if you stay at home all day and don't put on a pair of pants, it'd be incredibly hypocritical for him to judge. And you can be gross together which is way better than being gross alone (questionable).

I hc that they'd both be interested in someone curvy/plus sized cause I like that idea in particular 1) bc I'm fat 2) bc in the eras they grew up in 'skinny' was all the rage, so I like to think of them of going against the grain and liking a more classic figure/not caring about toxic beauty standards. But I also think that they truly have no particular preference! Both of the twins like vintage styles, having grown up in the 50/60s and young adults in the 70/80s.

But yes, in summary TL;DR, the pines twins don't give many fucks to appearances, as long as you're taking care of yourself to the best of your ability, it's actions and personality that attract them more 💕

[browniefox]

I asked for fic recs so it only makes sense that I provide some.

The Invisible Stan by The Last Speecher (HeidiMelone)

Simple, short, but elegant. You know how hanahaki disease is a trope? I feel like this should be a trope, but idk what you'd call it - Ninny disease sounds bad, but like it's clearly based off of Ninny from the Moomins. Anyway, great fic <3

An Outreached Hand by WDW

Ghost trick au! Love a good ghost trick au! I reread this recently and it still holds up so well, still so good even if unfinished. Haven't played ghost trick since, some of the twists make a hair more sense - especially the twist in the last chapter posted and being like 'OH IT'S *THE* GHOST TRICK'. Shoutout to undead creepiness and cute kitties :3

Retrograde by scrawling_stardumb

Kissing this one on the mouth. Only one chapter and unfinished, but it's a long chapter and really makes you go 'whoa'. It's interesting because the summary *technically* gives you more info than the chapter itself, but it's that kind of dramatic irony that fits the writing so well. A good solid McGucket POV too, which there really isn't enough of. Tbh, it stands okay almost as a one shot? I wish this became a whole popular au like all the others, bc it kicks ass as a concept.

Finding the Right Frequency by impish_nature

A pretty cute one! Ford trying to figure out how to deal with Bill, and Stan having found a stable job, and someow their two worlds intersect. Cute moments between the two, and some good Stans getting to reconnect.

Things You Can't Take Back by thesnadger

Classic by the Snadger! I always appreciate people who take Stan's memory less and make it more complicated, or at least have there be aftershocks to have your whole life erased :D So well written.

like they were a perfect fit by hapful

Stanford Pines and the photo he never looses. A beautiful story about Ford throughout the ages and his opnions on family, specifically Stan.

putting the dog to sleep by parsnipit

Old Yeller is such a sad story, and also some of this made me think of Mice and Men, and ugh just Stan and Ford and beign willing to kill something you love - sometimes because you love it - and it's such a perfect analogy to them I could die.

none of those phds is an md, you dumb idiot by untrustworthyglitch

I always love a fic that acknowledges language barriers. It reminds me of a really old fic where I did something similar, but like, being away from Earth would lead to you forgetting a lot of things, including language.

Too Late, Too Soon, Not Enough by IncomingAlbatross

Ah, gotta love a good fic that shows the missing scene of Ford and Stan switching places. Who came up with the idea? Who needed to be convinced? What swears do they get to use while off camera? Stan I love you so much, and Ford I lov eyou for beig nso complicated.

Raising Stakes by MaryPSue

Mwah! A Classic if I've ever seen one! While I'm partial to werewolf!Stan, Vampire!Stan does have so much potential and MaryPSue puts it to use so well! A great look into what Gravity Falls was like back in taht time period, and I love when people utilize Susan in fics that take place pre-portal <3 Also, Carla! I miss you so much Carla <3 It's drama, it's action, it's everything!

Lost and Found by PengyChan

Tate & Fiddleford have a lot of untapped potential, and while I think going the angst route makes a lot of sense, this one is almost more fluff and catharsis, I guess? I love it, near and dear to me.

Off-Season by anistarrose

Time Travel fic, but not a timestuck au? More likely than you think! A cute oneshot with particular focus on Stan, Mabel, and Dipper. Just a fluffy little thing with a couple strangers helping Stan out through a difficult winter.

Persist and Dwell by fencesit

A bit of Soos's trust in Grunkle Stan, and a mystery that isn't so much mystery as it is simply just not explicitly said. One of the final scenes has still stuck with me, and this is defo a concept I'd love to see explored more.

flee from your ghosts (burn your house down) by thepolysyndetonaddictsupportgroup

While typically OTGW x Gravity Falls crossovers are, like, Pinescone, I'm partial to this version where Wirt is their dad. There'a few details that didn' sit well with me, but over all so incredible and well written. Some of the metaphors are just so evocative I could eat them. The descriptions are to die for. And I love the depiction of a dad struggling to get his kids to open up to him that feels like it's part dads struggle with teens and part those pines twins just won't tell the truth.

If you have any Gravity Falls fic recs, feel free to comment them!

[creativity-deficient]

So, in defense of Stanford Pines

As the gravity falls fan in me has awakened once again per the release of the Book of Bill, I wanted to write a quick character analysis/essay on one of my two favorite characters in the series, Stanford Pines.

Now it’s important to note that Ford is in fact, a very flawed character, and this essay is in NO means meant to downplay that. He’s absolutely an egotistical asshole who was way too in his own head and focused on the end goal to fully appreciate the people and things he has around him, which ultimately ended up playing a huge part in his downfall.

However I do want to talk a little bit more about his side of things, as this is something I feel like isn’t quite done enough justice in the series, making it easy to just see him as a jerk or take Stan’s side in the fight between them, and has always been something I’ve really appreciated about both Journal 3 and now, the book of bill, both providing a new perspective on his character and exactly WHY he turned out the way he did.

I want to start from the beginning, by delving a bit into Ford’s childhood.

It’s a common misconception in the fandom that Ford had a good relationship with his father. He was the loved child, while Stanley was the unloved child. Now there’s no denying that Stan’s relationship with his father was…considerably worse, but with how deep Ford’s own insecurities and his obsession to “be the best” lie, I find it very hard to believe that his own relationship with his father was a healthy one either.

Filbrick was considered a VERY strict man, who was not easily impressed, making it very likely that Ford was either groomed into thinking, or at least at some point convinced himself that his smarts were the only worthwhile thing about him, especially since he pretty much already felt like a freak because of his fingers.

It’s even mentioned in the book of bill that his father wouldn’t want him returning home without millions. I mean, does that SOUND like a loving father to you?

And that brings me to his falling out with Stan. Yeah, EXTREMELY dick move to let your father kick out your teenage twin brother over some dumb mistake, however, it’s always felt a bit weird to me, like there was much more going on then just “you destroyed my project I’m throwing out our entire brotherly bond we spent the last 17-18 years building fuck you” because let’s face it, huh??? Kicking your own TWIN BROTHER, who you have been best friends with all your life, to the curb for some dumb school you literally learned about DAYS ago was something that never made sense to me, and I always struggled to understand why and how it even had to come to that.

But, let’s look it at this way. To Ford, Stan was the only person he had. They were the only people each other had, the only people that truly got each other. Ford considered Stan the only person he could trust at that point in time, this only person who wouldn’t treat him differently than others. And what does that person do? Completely betray that trust and destroy his project. Yes, we know that it was an accident, but Ford didn’t. Was he wrong to automatically assume that Stan did it on purpose instead of just, you know, talking it out? Oh absolutely, but we already established that he clearly doesn’t have healthy coping mechanisms, and all things considered, I don’t think Stan really helped his case when it came to proving his innocence, as both before and even after the confrontation, all he can seemingly think about is their boat. All things considered, I can’t completely blame Ford for thinking it was an act of betrayal. Does that completely justify his response? Oh absolutely not. But I DO think the situation goes a bit deeper than people assume.

Then we have his time in gravity falls. It’s hinted at a bunch throughout the series, journal 3, and the book of bill that Ford, despite his anger, truly missed his brother, and regretted his actions towards him (the swingset and stan o war in his dreamscape, holding on to that photo of him and Stan as kids all those years, not being able to think back on his childhood at glass shard beach without growing sad, etc).

“Well, why didn’t he just contact him then???”

Well, to be fair, he kind of had a lot going on, and by a lot, of course, I mean Bill.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that the relationship between Ford and Bill was EXTREMELY toxic. Bill, doing what Bill does best, leeched onto Ford’s already deeply set insecurities to led him into a false sense of security, one where bill and ONLY bill truly understood him, and that everyone else was out to get him and couldn’t see his true potential, effectively isolating him from his friends, family, and even society.

Ford went through HELL in this period of time. He was left alone by bill for long periods of time until he was desperate and dependent enough to lash out. He was gaslit and manipulated into pushing the people he cared about away. When he decided he wasn’t going to do bill’s bidding, he was literally TORMENTED for it. In all fairness, I don’t really think he was in the right mindset for ANYTHING during that time, losing himself in BOTH his own stubbornness and this endless cycle of abuse.

Despite this though, despite ALL of this, all the manipulation, their falling out, etc, Stan was still the first and ONLY person Ford thought of to take the Journals, the only person he considered to be trustworthy. Yes it was petty of him to bring up the project yet AGAIN (let it go my dude), but I do think it is important to acknowledge that he still thought of Stan pretty highly at the time, or else that wouldn’t have been the case.

“Oh but Alex he told Stan to get away from him yadayada!!!” Uh, no he didn’t. He just told him to hide the journals, not that he couldn’t come back afterwards, that was just Stan assuming the worst.

On that note, I do think it’s important to also acknowledge that while Stan is definitely, in the eyes of a lot of people as well as myself, the more sympathetic of the two, he’s definitely made his fair share of mistakes as well. I don’t think there’s really truly a right or a wrong in this argument, I think instead both of them are two very complex characters who had both been through a lot at that point, and both have made their mistakes (even if Stan’s were a bit more justified in most cases)

Then of course, he gets pushed through the portal, and spends the next 30 years between dimensions.

Now for anyone who hasn’t read journal 3 (spoilers ig? The book is pretty old atp but I figured I’d give one anyways) Ford is basically told by an oracle that he “has the face of someone who is destined to defeat bill” (a lot of people call him egotistical for assuming the oracle was talking about him and not his brother, but I digress. If an oracle looked YOU deep into your eyes and told you you had the face of someone destined to save the universe, be honest, would YOU think they were talking about your sibling??) Ford then proceeds to spend the next 30 years building a weapon to effectively defeat bill, and just as he’s about to finally use it, he’s sucked (not literally) back into gravity falls, not ONLY effectively erasing all of his hard work and progress, but risking weirdmaggedon in the first place. On TOP of it all, he also learns that Stan has been using his name all these years, and that he now has a pretty extensive criminal record.

Yes, Stan did it all in his best interest, and Ford could’ve absolutely shown more appreciation, but all things considered, I’d be pretty pissed off too.

But, all things considered, at the end of it all Ford still has those he hold close to his heart. He missed Stan all those years, considered Fiddleford a true friend and was super appreciative to have him there while they worked on the project together, he’s joyous to find out he has a niece and nephew, etc, and when he realizes he’s hurt these people, namely his brother and former lab partner, he feels immense guilt, and does everything he can to atone to it.

I truly think Stanford’s character development is one of the best in the series, as he finally learns to appreciate what he has instead of trying to chase down an unachievable end goal, and it’s definitely something that I feel goes unnoticed in the grand scheme of things when it comes to his character.

Now, what was the point of this 1 am ramble?? The point was the highlight the wonderful complexity of Stanford Pines’s character. Yes he was an extremely flawed man. Someone who pushed away those he loved him pursuit of greater things, and let his own pride be the fall of him. However, at the same time, he’s also a man who bears a lot of scars, both metaphorical and literal, and an extremely complex character who deserves a lot more than to be characterized as this “cold, uncaring asshole” something I’ve seen WAY too much of. I feel like it’s important to acknowledge that he’s made mistakes while also recognizing the complexity of a lot of it too, as well as acknowledging that he did indeed, learn from those mistakes.

[prpfz]

⚠️Gravity Falls fans, do you feel that? Just in time for spooky season! Hello everyone. I too have been hit by that Gravity Falls itch and am absolutely craving content. I'm gonna hop straight into what you wanna know. I'm only looking for canon x canon, MxM, MxF, and FxF. I don't double, I'm looking for partners who share the same interests as me. I'm multi-para to novella, with replies exploding in length the more we have going on and the more invested I am. I don't mirror, nor do I require it, I prefer we write what's needed and what makes sense. I'm personally a long-term roleplay partner, but I have no problem with people who ghost or lose interest. And finally, what I know you're all looking for, I will not write with strict bottoms. Switches and tops only. Most of my muses skew toward being dominant and aren't interested in meek uncertainty. Make of that what you will. Please be ready to tell me about yourself as a roleplayer, and have writing samples when I reach out(They can be for anyone, just show me your best!)! On to the ships!

Ford x Bill - I'm willing to write as either of these characters and I'm not looking to include fluff between them. I'm interested in their toxicity and desire to contain or destroy one another. Please be comfortable with dubcon(at the very least) from both parties if you're interested in writing this ship with me. I'm more than open to including noncon as well. I have a few plots in mind and am open to hearing other ideas.

Bill x Dipper - I'm willing to write as either of these characters with a very slight lean towards Bill. A lot of the same stuff as before, I'm looking for a lot of toxicity, they hate each other and want to win, yadda yadda. I will be incredibly picky if 🍪 is included. I'm not against it, I'm just selective about how it's written. I only have one or two plots in mind and am very open to hearing other ideas.

Dipper x Pacifica - I'm only interested in writing as Pacifica for this ship. Enemies to lovers, at least half of that hatred is just UST. I'm really looking for two strong personalities to come head-to-head here. (Would anyone be interested in MtF Pacifica? Totally okay if it's not your thing and this is in no way a requirement. Bonus points if pegging is a thing but it's also totally not required.) Again, I'm picky about 🍪 being included. For once, I'm looking for less toxicity and more snarky banter. I have a multitude of strong plots in mind for these two.

Mabel x Pacifica - I'm only interested in writing as Pacifica for this ship. A lot of the same stuff above, just more so with Mabel's infectious charm and good spirit. I'm really not looking to write against a deeply insecure or easily upset Mabel, especially knowing Pacifica's harshness and constant criticism. Picky about 🍪. And I have a few ideas for them but nothing super solid.

Honorable mention: Stanford Pines x Rick Sanchez. I have absolutely no experience or ideas in mind for these two but I'd love for an opportunity to write Rick. Hell, I'd write him against either of the twins, really.

give a like and anon will get back to you

[astriiformes]

Fighting at least some of the “I’m annoying about my interests and should shut up about fandom things” brain angst by finally digging up and filling out an old fic writer’s meme that I was tagged in by @raemanzu​ way back in the laptopless wilderness days (and thus never got around to at the time), so uh, here goes?

How many works do you have on Ao3?

31, although if I can battle some brains by the end of the weekend, it might jump up to 32.... 👀

What’s your total Ao3 word count?

221,102 as of typing this, although again, I actually have two chapters of two different things that? Might? Get posted in the next 24-48 hours, so it may jump a little extremely imminently, even.

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

16 by Ao3′s count, but seeing as half of those are just different variations on Doctor Who, Star Wars, or LotR, the actual, like, diverse list is: Gravity Falls, Critical Role, Doctor Who, Star Wars, Pacific Rim, High Rollers, Hilda, Lord of the Rings, and The Owl House

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Gravity Calls (542)

To No Set Gauge they Make Us (510)

In Search of Antidotes (502)

Cups of Human Kindness (390)

Owl Whumptober 2021 (318)

Not wildly surprised that almost all of them are Gravity Falls fics; it’s one of the bigger fandoms I’ve written for. I’m actually not the proudest of most of the ones  that chart here, in part because they’re almost all 4-5 years old at this point and I’m a much better writer now, but I’ve been writing less and for smaller fandoms since then. I am actually extremely happy/proud of the fact that my collection of Owl House Whumptober prompt fills made this list -- for a random set of mostly-unconnected oneshots in a much more mid-sized fandom, that’s pretty decent. Makes me hope that if I can manage to actually write some bigger/more real TOH stories, they could get some attention, too. :0

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I’ve been getting back into the habit and it’s good! When people leave really short ones (”I love this!” “Great!”) I tend not to know what to say, because I feel weird just repeating “Thank you!” but when people make even slightly more specific ones and I have more of an idea how to respond it can be really neat to dig into meta thoughts or chat about characters (or even just general fandom talk). I was having a lot of fun in the comments of my Whumptober fills, in part because I had some pretty awesome commenters. It provided a lot of motivation to keep filling prompts while I could!

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Not counting works that are just unfinished, probably “Dream-Land” which was peak mid-S2 Stanford Pines melancholy. I generally go hard on my whumpy fics being hurt/comfort proper, so most of the endings aren���t as angsty as the rest of them, but that fic was more like..... philosophical/existential hurt than physical, and is very much the kind of thing you write mid-season when you’re expecting the show to do the resolving for you. Angsty character study nonsense.

Do you write crossovers? If so, what’s the craziest one you’re written?

I used to; I haven’t actually written one in ages. Hilariously enough, while the fandom being crossed into (one Pacific Rim, two Gravity Falls) changed, the one constant is that they were all Doctor Who crossovers. It uh, lends itself to that.

The DW/Pacific Rim one was going to be pretty wild (bizarre alien speculative xenobiology nonsense my beloved, plus crossing over with the weird non-TV interim Doctor Who content with Eight instead of one of the modern Doctors) but alas ended up being one of my big unfinished regrets. Had some fun things planned though (as you do).

Have you ever received hate on a fic? 

I don’t think so; I get the occasional weirdly lukewarm comment I never know how to interpret, especially if they critique one thing or another even as they compliment it, but I’m pretty sure all or the vast majority of comments I’ve ever gotten have seemed very good-faith, which I appreciate (especially as I often write on some fairly personal topics).

Do you write smut? If so what kind?

Oh I am far too ace for that.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

No, and it’s wild to me that’s even like, a thing. Does it happen to anyone else frequently?? Unfathomable.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes, which is so cool! Rainy_Elliot translated both Probably 100% Actual Biology and Siren Song both into Russian!

I could have sworn there were a couple more, but I may just be remembering some of FF.net holdovers (I had a few over there translated too, into a couple other languages iirc, but could not tell you any other details after all these years, and we don’t talk about those stories...)

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Combustion, one of my Gravity Falls fics, was written with a then-tumblr mutual. Other than that I’ve mostly written my own things, although these days some of my stories go through a wildly interwoven beta process with @scribefindegil​ since we share a number of fandoms and I can usually just hand her my laptop from the other side of the couch! I owe her a lot of elements of their plots too, just because talking out my ideas at another person is exactly how I best develop them.

What’s your all-time favorite ship?

This is obviously sort of a weird one for me; I haven’t really written any ships into my work (it’s the aromanticism -- I don’t even hate the idea with certain couples, especially canon ones, but I feel like I’d be so bad at it!)

Anyways I have two answers maybe. If I’m allowed to fudge the lines a little, I really love the way I’ve been writing Legolas and Gimil’s relationship in my massive aro!Legolas fic, I Breathed a Song Into the Air -- as a deeply close, committed platonic relationship barreling towards something queerplatonic ship-shaped, although with the messy hiccup that Gimli is romantically interested in Legolas, even if it’s not (romantically) reciprocated. It’s not exactly a classic ship dynamic, but it’s probably the closest I’ve come to writing one, and I actually really adore playing around with the boundaries of committed companionship like that, so if that makes me a “shipper” by proxy, there you go!

That said, I still super don’t see that one as a romantic relationship, so if you want me to pick one of those.... technically the only time I’ve intentionally written romantic interest between two characters has been with some of my really recent TOH stuff, and frankly, that might be the one that finally gets me in the conventional sense. I am in the process of plotting out a pretty long Owl House fic that would, among other character relationships, involve some significant Raine/Eda, which also feels like a fair answer -- although it seems really funny calling something I haven’t exactly written yet my “all-time” favorite! I do love them though. I can’t believe a romantic relationship finally properly lured me in. After all these years.

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

Oh boy. Often it feels like all of them. But I do have some pretty significant motivation for a lot of the in-progress ones in my drafts that I’ve started in the last year or two, even if some have been slow going. (Someday, I Breathed a Song will update again, I swear...)

I think my answer has to be all 4 or 5 different multi-chapter stories on Ao3 there’s little chance of me finishing. I often feel pretty bad that I started things people got excited about and won’t get to see conclude. It put me off writing fic for a while, because I felt like it always happened when I tried to write long things -- and what I really want to write are long things! -- although these days I seem to be tapping into some much deeper wells of motivation, which is good, even if I’m still a slow writer.

What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue, for sure. It’s one of the main things I’ve always gotten compliments on, which makes me happy, because good dialogue is a hallmark of good fic, in my book. I think I also tend to be pretty good at plot, or at least the bones of it -- coming up with interesting directions for the story to go that are a little different than what everyone else writes, and and that tend to be really character-driven, and also at coming up with interesting symbolism/narrative metaphor and parallels like that. Together, that also makes me pretty good at foreshadowing, which is a LOT of fun when I can get it right and stick the landing.

What are your writing weaknesses? 

I write so slowly, and I’m such a perfectionist, so getting stuck on small things and agonizing over sections that are good enough already really hurts me. I tend to have weak spots with things like cohesion between scene transitions or pacing as a result -- I’ll either drag them out too long or rush them because I don’t know what else to write or how else to get past them. Plus, it also keeps me from getting things written at all :P

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I think it can be done well, definitely, and also that it often is not, but that the latter tends to scare people away from figuring out how to do the former.

There are different thoughts on what doing it well looks like, but for my part I like to try to scatter in small pieces for a larger impact that usually can be figured out from context clues, and add something else that can’t be accomplished just by stating the dialogue is in a certain language. I’ve messed around a little to that effect with Sindarin in Tolkien fic, although I’m still figuring out how best to use more than just a word or two.

That said. I do think it’s something you should always, always find a beta for. If you’re not fluent or confident in a translation yourself, finding another fan who is in order to make sure you’ve done it right/respectfully doesn’t feel like an optional step to me, even though people often treat it that way.

(For an example: my favorite messing around with language I’ve done recently was contrasting a “Dios mío” from Luz with an “Oh, Titan” from Hunter in an Owl House fic -- with the joke being that it was representative of their respective cultural backgrounds, even if one of them is decidedly fantasy and not an Earth “culture” at all!)

What was the first fandom you wrote for? 

Going to go with a graceful pass on this one, just because I find some of my earliest forays into fic a little too embarrassing to admit to in retrospect. The first fandom that crossed over from FF.net with me to Ao3 though -- and one of my earliest ones -- was Doctor Who.

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written? 

So far, it’s definitely I Breathed a Song Into the Air. It’s so personal, and has received such a phenomenal response -- and beyond that, it was my splash back into fic-writing that made me realize I still had it in me and that my skills had improved so much since I stepped away. I’ve also had the most fun planning it and giving it to Scribe to beta, and even just beyond that, I love writing the LotR characters and their relationships to begin with. I know it’s been a year since I updated it, which, oof, but I swear, I have a lot planned for it and it’s not tossed by the wayside. I hope people will still enjoy sticking with me for the journey with that one, because it means a lot to me.

[thatgrumpybxtch]

Can I have a matchup for twilight, mha, Gravity Falls and fnaf? This is what I look like

Age: 19

Pronouns: she/her

Sexuality: bisexual and poly

Personality:I don't talk to people I don't know usually and can seem shy but once I get to know them a can be talkative and a little bit loud. I don't really hate people unless they give me a reason too. I don't get annoyed or mad easily. I make dark jokes sometimes there directed to myself. I try to be supportive of my friends but if I know what they're doing is stupid than one will call them out on it. I'm really into the emo style. I do suffer from anxiety and depression, I also am touch starved. I do have anger issues but usually only if I don't get enough sleep.

Hobbies: reading, drawing, watching anime/tv shows, writing, painting, going on late night drives, and going on walks.

Likes: anime, art, music, nightmare before Christmas, harry potter, the colors black and purple also green alot, scented things, candles, Halloween, fall weather, animals, and fuzzy blankets.

Dislikes: spiders, super hot weather, liar's, blend food, and people who can't clean up after themselves.

Thank you!! ❤

For twilight, I match you wtih... Edward Cullen and Bella Cullen!

Edward is pretty much the same when it comes to getting to know other people, he is quite and reserved but tends to open up once getting to know you

Bella also understands that you need to get to know people before opening up, and she is more than happy to ramble and talk with you 24/7

Edward was actually glad to see you more talkative and louder once the three of you actually became became closer

Edward try to see the true reason why you make dark jokes about yourself, and hopefully get you to love yourself more and not do it as much

They'll reassure you anytime you make those jokes about yourself, because in their eyes your perfect <3

Sometimes Bella and Edward just need someone to be brutally honest and tell them what they are doing/how they are acting is dumb, they may get mad about it at first but calm down and realize your right

Edward will get you the best therapist if you're willing to go to the appointments, he doesn't want to force anything on you but he does want you to be happy and healthy both mentally and physically

They both fully support and adore all of your hobbies, they also love to accompany you on late night drives and your walks

You will be spoiled with merch from all your favorite shows and movies

For MHA, I match you with... Shoto Todoroki!

Shoto is quiet, reserved, and blunt even after people get to know him so your shyness doesn’t bother him 

though once you do open up to him he will point it out asking why you are acting different now that you’re closer. 

He is an excellent listener, so whenever you’re in those talkative moods he is more than willing to listen to whatever you want to talk about

Shoto can relate to the dark jokes you make about yourself, since he unintentionally does that himself 

He’s relieved to not be the only one who’s blunt and tells people how they are acting without a filter, especially when they are being dumb

Though sometimes you have to be the one to tell shoto what hes doing is stupid/reckless

Shoto is also quite touch starved but expresses it more when alone with you

That being said, he loves cuddling with you and holding hands <3

Would like to read with you or read your writing

He also buys you lots of scented candles and fuzzy warm blankets he thinks you’ll like

For Gravity Falls, I match you with... Stanford Pines!

Stanford always thought you were more of a quiet, shy person until he got to know you and your more talkative side

It surprised him but he wasn’t complaining, it was nice to see you more comfortable around him!

That caused him to open up more to you too, talking more and rambling about nerdy things

He brings you along on his adventures and creature hunts if you’re willing to go

It caught him so off guard the first time one of your dark jokes slipped out in front of him

Like he never knew someone as great as you would make jokes like that, it obviously meant you had gone through something and coped with humor to deal with it

He’s determined to help you cope in a better way :)

Stanford is reckless and sometimes needs someone to put him back in his place by telling him what he is doing is dumb and reckless, and luckily you’re there to do just that

Lots of dates with the two of you drawing, reading, writing, or just taking a nice walk in the woods

Please introduce this old man to modern tv shows, he barely knows how a tv works

For FNAF, I match you with... Roxanne Wolf!

Roxanne has major self esteem issues, that being said she is super understanding of the whole making dark jokes about yourself thing

But after hearing you say those things about yourself/what you’ve been through she’ll try to hype you up

Loves giving you compliments and completely melts if you praise her for literally anything

Racing dates happen pretty often, and Roxy even lets you win(sometimes)

She may act as if she doesn’t like or see the point in drawing or painting but she really likes to watch you paint, draw, or write

Roxy is also a fan of the emo style, but she prefers the rock star style she was designed with

Many compliments and praises from Roxanne if you dress in an emo or rock star style (Bonus points if you dress like her)

She likes to go on late night walks around the pizzaplex with you, thought you may have to dodge security unless you are a security guard

Roxy is fascinated by the anime you watch since her and the other animatronics don’t really get to watch tv

[cleverthylacine]

Found family, ace/aro rep, and ableist takes on the topic.

Found family is an awesome trope, and ace people, aro people and aro-ace people are 100% valid, and that meme that says we don’t write enough about queer friendship even though we write a lot about queer romance and sex is not wrong.

But I am a shipper.  I don’t know about this whole “pro-ship” thing because I don’t get paid for it and I don’t “support” all ships; I just support the human right of people to have their imaginations and write whatever ships they want to write, because fictional characters can’t get hurt.

And as a shipper, I’ve seen a lot of people be really fucked up about insisting that a certain character is “canonically aro-ace” when that’s never been explicitly said in the source material, or that a certain relationship has to be “found family” and not a sexual/romantic relationship when that’s never been explicitly said in the source material.

And the fucked-up thing about it is that a lot of these purity-culture-fuelled arguments come with a whopping side order of unwanted ableism, because the characters involved have disabilities.

I am a Gravity Falls fan, and Stanford Pines is, canonically, kind of thirsty.  We know he’s dated a siren. We know his map of the human brain has some hints in it that he thinks about sex a lot. He acts very much like a lot of autistic people we know and love.  He is often claimed as ace/aro (and shipping him is claimed as ace/aro erasure) because he once said he didn’t understand how romance worked and because he’s known to have not had a whole lot of success in the romance department.

But here’s the thing. Everything he said about having trouble with making romance work and not getting the unwritten “rules” for it is stuff that I’ve said, and I’m not ace or aro.  I’m just...kinda autistic.

Yelling at people who relate to Ford for shipping him because you’re ace and you’re mad that not everyone sees him that way isn’t really okay, because some autistic people are really tired of being treated as though they are ace when they’re actually not. They want relationships; they just don’t know how to get one or what to do with it when they have it yet.

And when you start talking about how ‘pure’ such characters are, and claiming they’re ‘above’ that, you’re being sex-negative and ableist, because you’re infantilising neurodivergent people, and that’s not okay.

I am also a Ravage/Soundwave shipper.  (I’m going to just side-eye the whole “bestiality” argument against this ship because Ravage isn’t an animal. Ravage is a Transformer with the same spark every other Transformer has. Ravage being cold-constructed, someone else decided to put this spark in a cat-shaped body. But Ravage is 100% sapient, capable of deep philosophical conversation and emotional depth, shows attachment to Soundwave and Megatron, and loves them.  Ravage is not their pet cat.)

I sometimes get to hear a lot of arguments about how Ravage and Soundwave ought to be “found family” and how Ravage is really Soundwave’s parent, but they were adults when they met each other. Ravage and Soundwave are also both neuro-atypical. Soundwave is more extremely so than Ravage is, but they both have severe problems with focus and executive dysfunction and being overwhelmed by sensory stimuli.  It’s worse for Soundwave because he can read minds to the degree that he has a hard time telling who he is, and Ravage took him in and helped him figure that out.  But they are still two adults with synaesthesia, enhanced senses, sensory processing disorders who are coping with all this, plus poverty and oppression, when they meet each other.

That means that if they decide in someone’s fic to have an adult relationship, a romantic or sexual relationship, that is 100% okay, especially since the cassette/carrier power imbalance was forced upon them in at least one continuity and they did not start out in that situation.

And if you are going to write platonic or found family fic about them, stop using Ravage/Soundwave as your tag here and on AO3 and then getting mad when shippers who love this rarepair are unhappy.  The “Ravage & Soundwave” tag exists for a reason.

When people insist that this relationship can’t be romantic because there is at least one grown-ass adult in it who has disabilities related to being neuro-atypical, they are yet again infantilising neuro-atypical people and people with sensory processing disorders.  I’m in that group, so I resent this. Soundwave was an adult when he met Ravage and moved in with Ravage and the two of them put up with some really extraordinary bullshit in order to not be separated by a casteist society. “Friendship” is not the only explanation for people moving in together and refusing to be separated.

They don’t have to be lovers and they are never so described in canon, though I can find you canonical evidence that they could have been lovers and at least one person thought they might have been. But saying they cannot be lovers because letting someone else with a similar disability live with you and helping them deal with it makes you their parent?  That is not okay, dude. Don’t read my fic if you don’t like the idea, but also don’t @ me because I find it incredibly romantic that Soundwave could remember Ravage’s name when he was having trouble remembering his own.

Don’t get me started on DBH. Someone in that fandom flipped a table just because shippers liked their artwork. Again, the two male characters being shipped have an age gap and a life experience gap, but they’re not actually related to one another, so they don’t have to regard one another as out of bounds, as they are both functional adults.  It upset me, because I ship the characters based on RP interactions and wasn’t even aware that it wasn’t canon, so...maybe again, be nice to people who are new to your fandom.

Write people as ace or aro if you want to. Write them that way because you like the headcanon. Write people in platonic friendships and found family if that’s what you want to do.  Write whatever the hell you want about any character.

But for fuck’s sake, do not yell at people who see characters or relationships as potentially sexual or romantic because you don’t want these characters and relationships “debased” by sex and romance, despite there being no canonical evidence that such a relationship couldn’t exist.  That’s not okay.

(And don’t insist, as one galaxy-brained DW RPer I encountered did, that Ravage or Hank is “taking advantage” of Soundwave or Connor and being predatory if they’re attracted to someone more ND than they are.)

You cannot claim “ace/aro erasure” for characters who canonically date and want sexual/romantic relationships being written in sexual/romantic relationships. And you cannot claim that a relationship between unrelated adults who are often viewed as “found family” is actually incestuous.  Just don’t read shipfic for those characters and leave it alone, and stop being nasty to people who mention conversationally or in the tags of a post that they see those characters as lovers. And if you’re going to claim that a character’s awkwardness, neurodiversity or disability prevents them from having a sexual or romantic orientation, please shut up and don’t do that.

[astrognossienne]

scandalous beauty: athalia ponsell lindsley - an analysis

“Not that St. Augustine citizens went around killing people they didn’t like. But Athalia was not on a level playing field. Nobody liked her, so there was not a big hue and cry when she was killed.” - Sally Boyles, a neighbour of Lindsley’s

For someone so brash, loud, and ballsy, her life, especially her early life, was quite a mystery. Just like her controversial death. On January 23, 1974, former model, dancer, political activist and television personality Athalia Ponsell Lindsley was murdered with a machete by an unknown assailant on the front steps of her home in St. Augustine, Florida. Her murder is notorious more than four decades after it occurred. The only eyewitness said a man attacked Lindsley with a machete in broad daylight on the front steps of her white mansion. Gossip swirled that neighbour Frances Bemis knew who killed Lindsley and would notify authorities. Bemis was later murdered on her nightly walk. Police arrested only one suspect for Lindsley's murder, which remains unsolved to this day. For someone who was a Leo, I don't think Athalia was a very happy person. I think she tried to bring others down, with her based on her ill-concealed dissatisfaction with the way things were. Unfortunately for her, her demise happened in a town that didn’t care for her.

Athalia Ponsell Lindsley, according to astrotheme, was a Leo sun and Libra moon (the moon is speculative). She was born Mary Anne “Athalia” Fetter in Toledo, Ohio in 1917. Her parents were both wealthy New Yorkers; her father was a utilities magnate and her mother a socialite. Shortly after her birth, she and her family moved to Isle of Pines (now known as Isla de la Juventud), Cuba where she was raised until the age of 12. By the time the parents moved to Jacksonville, Florida and enrolled her in parochial school, she was winning beauty contests and pursuing an acting career. After high school, she moved to New York City, where it didn’t take her long to be employed as a fashion model for the celebrated fashion designer John Robert Powers, which helped her land work in some Broadway musicals and as a hostess on a TV game show. By 1949, she was the hottest model in NYC. She was just as hot off the runway as well; the list of Ponsell’s sexual conquests was long, including the likes of actor Tyrone Power and Joseph P. Kennedy, Jr. She was reported to have been married three times, one of  them to a man named Ponsell, but there is no information on him or her other two spouses. She had a scrapbook of all the celebrities and people she was acquainted. But success had quickly gone to the young model’s head, and by 1954, she’d burned all her bridges at her modeling agency, and her reputation as “the bitch of New York” was well-earned and kept her from earning any more work in the entertainment industry.

Out of work, over the hill, and her looks fading, Ponsell quit her 20-years of modeling and entertainment work and retired to a white stucco mansion in St. Augustine in 1972. By that time, the 55-year-old washed-up model became embittered. From the moment she arrived in St.Augustine, she did her best to position herself at the top of the city’s high society. But the sides of that pyramid were very steep, and to the city’s old-school cultural hardliners, she was an outsider, and an obnoxious one, at that. St. Augustine is known for being a rather cliquish town, and unless you have Spanish, Menorcan, or WASP roots, any newcomer is looked at as an outsider. She was known as a pain in the ass, criticizing everything she thought was wrong with the town and its citizens. Naturally the upper crust didn’t take too well to her. She may have annoyed them, but she did catch the eye of another important person, Mayor James Lindsley, a St. Augustine native who went by the nickname “Jinx”. Jinx was known around the city for his ability to work hard and drink even harder. He was of the generation where if he was wronged, or if there was a problem, he settled his differences with his fists. Despite his passionate love affairs with ass kicking and Jack Daniels, Athalia was drawn to Jinx’s good standing with St. Augustine’s old guard, Jinx was attracted to her still-good looks and fiery personality. The two courted hard and fast, and just a few months after they met, they married.

Their marriage was rocky from the start, providing the town with juicy gossip. In fact, just 3 months into the marriage, the two separated. They wound up living in separate homes, fighting back and forth about possessions and property. She may have treated her husband and the town like dirt, but she was very moved by animals and took in a lot of strays and accumulated a coterie of animals. This didn’t endear herself to the neighbours, and they complained of dogs barking and other noises coming from her makeshift “animal shelter”. One neighbour in particular that took exception to Athalia and her animals was a hot-headed county manager called Alan Stanford. Stanford lived next door to her on Marine Street, and the two clashed from day one. Stanford filed several noise complaints against Athalia and her pets, resulting in her arrest. In revenge, she made Stanford’s life as county manager a living hell. She became a fixture at City Hall, attending every county meeting she could and accuse Stanford of all sorts of improprieties, from the mismanagement of county funds to stealing equipment from the road department. Some of these accusations weren’t entirely unfounded, but it got to the point where her presence was dreaded. She was after his job and wanted him fired. Stanford, in turn, threatened her life. December of 1973, she found out that Stanford lacked the civil engineering degree required for all county managers, and went to the state to report him.

On January 23, 1974 she attended her last city hall meeting, armed with petitions of several citizens calling for Stanford to resign. She exposed the fact that Stanford forged documents and padded his experience and qualifications as county manager. Later that day, to celebrate, she met her estranged husband Jinx for lunch. The day went surprisingly well, going shopping in Jacksonville and running errands. At approximately 5:30 pm, they both went home to their respective houses. As Athalia walked her pet blue jay around in her front yard, an intruder emerged from her back yard, armed with a machete. Moments later, the police department received a call about a murder. The police arrived to the provided address and found Athalia sprawled across the front steps of her porch, nearly decapitated and hacked to death with a machete in broad daylight.

The scene was chaotic, with neighbours trampling all over the grass trying to get a look, contaminating evidence. In their great police work, the cops never thought to rope off the crime scene. When her husband Jinx was notified of his wife’s murder, he took his time getting to her house, making a pit stop to his attorney’s office along the way. A few hours later, the cops find a machete in his pickup truck. But an open-and-shut case this was not. In February of 1974, the rumour was that Jinx killed her in a drunken rage. Even though Jinx had a violent temper and smacked his wife around, in the eyes of local investigators, he was “unarrestable”; they had no real evidence against the mayor and he even passed a lie-detector test. A tip from one of Athalia’s neighbours came in: it seems the neighbour’s 19 year-old son claimed to have witnessed her old nemesis Alan Stanford kill her. There was a trail of blood that led from Athalia’s front porch directly into Allen Stanford’s back yard. More than a few weren’t concerned with Athalia being killed because she was such a bitch that they feel that she deserved what she got.

In March of 1974, there was a blood-stained machete, a watch, and blood-soaked trousers found in a bag in a swamp; the blood on the clothes matched Athalia’s, and the clothes belonged to Stanford. On February 22, 1974, Alan Stanford was arrested and charged with murder. On January 1975, the murder trial commenced. The prosecution had a strong case and a guilty verdict seemed almost certain. Just before closing arguments, Stanford’s defense team called the 19-year old witness to the stand. Despite previously identifying Stanford as the killer, the young man was now unsure of the identity, having never actually seen the assailant’s face. On the day following the killing, a young nurse rode her bicycle as she always did. The police stopped her and questioned her about the murder. The nurse picked out a third suspect, deputy sheriff Dewey Lee, as the killer, further muddling the waters. The jury found Alan Stanford not guilty, despite the mountain of evidence against him. Local authorities were so upset by the verdict that they refused to re-open the case. Even though Stanford was acquitted of the murder, Athalia wound up getting the last laugh in the end, they local county board voted 4 to 1 to fire Stanford due to his lying about his credentials. He wound up leaving town shortly afterward. Today, St. Augustine is different; most who lived on Marine Street during the 1960s and 1970s have either moved away or passed away. Athalia’s house, now a historical landmark, still stands today, a grim reminder of how local resentment can go too far.

the murder of frances bemis

Frances Bemis was a socialite and neighbour of Athalia Ponsell Lindsley who happened to be a close friend of hers. Shortly after Lindsley’s murder, Frances started gathering information in order to write a book about the murder, claiming that she had information on what really happened. On November 3, 1974, she went for an evening walk and disappeared. Her body was found near her house, her skull crushed by a cement block. Her murder has never been solved.

This was the next analysis that I planned to do after the Robert Mitchum one, so I decided to just get this one out of the way.

Stats

birthdate: July 25, 1917*

*note*: due to the absence of a birth time, this analysis will be even more speculative.

major planets:

Sun: Leo

Moon: Libra

Rising: unknown

Mercury: Leo

Venus: Leo

Mars: Gemini

Midheaven: unknown

Jupiter: Gemini

Saturn: Leo

Uranus: Aquarius

Neptune: Leo

Pluto: Cancer

Overall personality snapshot: She had a prestigious, compelling presence, even when she was just clowning around, and a natural ability to command both respect and affection from her friends and colleagues. In the nicest possible way she assumed the position of the leader because she had a strong independent streak and believed in her lofty, worthy ideals, but she also gravitated towards collaboration and an impartial examination of the facts. She could be bossy and yet her bossiness was so diplomatic that it was convincing, even impressive. Although she wanted esteem and tended to identify with honourable goals and people, she could work alongside others she respected and she really wanted the best for everyone. She had style, and she instinctively knew that ‘manners maketh man’ and that, if for some reason they didn’t, they went a long way in making life worth living. When she came into her own, she developed a strongly aesthetic approach to life and are naturally creative. She needed a very positive, active medium through which to express herself, such as drama, teaching or running her own business.

Anything to do with beauty and harmony interested her, such as decorating, design and painting. Her interest in social equality took her into politics or the law. She had a strong sense of herself and stubbornly followed her own personal code of ethics, yet she also enjoyed being part of a group that had a common purpose or bond. She cherished ideals of liberty and equality, but if there were some distasteful tasks to perform she moved very smoothly into the role of delegating – well, she thought, someone has to give the orders around here or we would have no harmony at all. Although she seemed to enjoy an easy, breezy approach to life, there was quite a serious side to her personality, and she could be surprisingly controversial and provocative. She was willing to stand up and be counted, and perhaps make it look easy. She had a natural appreciation and enjoyment of the good things of life; she assumed that they should be hers by birthright. And through cunning charm, calculated boldness, and intelligent maneuver she managed to have plenty.

She was ambitious, sound at giving orders, carried responsibility well and was a good teacher, especially able to bring out the best in children. She believed in herself and generally knew the right thing to say at the right time, although she could show a stubborn and dogmatic side. She had a high opinion of her mental powers, and it was certainly true to say that he had plenty of mental energy. She was a mentally restless person, both versatile and broad-minded. She experienced personal growth through analysis and using her intellect, although the collection and communication of facts may have been an end within itself. She was a reliable and loyal person. Her will and sense of honour were strong and she was a great organizer. On the downside, her self-assuredness could become dogmatism and imperiousness. Conservatism may have affected her creativity, artistic values and love affairs. This expressed itself as self-imposed restrictions or as selfishness. She often felt inadequate, which created an insidious form of oppression over all her forms of expression. She could also take herself so seriously, that people think that she was older than her years.

She belonged to a generation that could be unpredictable in that it liked to instigate change simply for the sake of shaking things up and providing stimulation. Humanitarian ideals became extremely important, as well as the belief in absolute freedom for every individual. She came up with radical new ideas which she stubbornly followed. As a member of this generation, she may have felt deep spiritual convictions, although she may not have seen herself as religious in the traditional sense of the word. She was part of a very artistically talented and creative generation that wanted to escape from the demands of the world around them into a world of excitement and glamour. Members of this generation loved the theater and the cinema, in fact, any sort of creative self-expression. They also believed in the rights of any individual to express themselves. This generation was both idealistic and romantic, selfish and individualistic. Lindsley embodied all of these Leo Neptunian ideals. Also, as a member of the Leo Neptune generation, she experienced and fully embraced changes in sexual mores and attitudes, changing the way people approach the whole issue of romantic relationships. Changes were also experienced in the relationships between parents and children, with the ties becoming looser. She was part of a generation known for its devastating social upheavals concerning home and family. The whole general pattern of family life experiences enormous changes and upheavals; as a Cancer Plutonian, this aspect is highlighted with Lindsley’s father dying relatively young and her having to care for her mother until she died.

Love/sex life: There is never any question as to the ground rules of her erotic universe: what best served her ego, best served her libido. She had a marvelous capacity for enjoying sex but her pride and self-possession always came first. Some people might have found the egotism of this position offensive but many others hardly noticed. After all, a lover as lively, generous and exciting as she had good reason to be proud. There was always a distinctively theatrical quality about her love making. She wanted sex to be a big event, full of drama and intellectual significance. This grandiose approach to sex can certainly be entertaining but it often made her romantic moments seem less than spontaneous. More importantly, real life sex rarely met her cinematic standards. This is one reason why she often found the idea of love much more appealing than its physical manifestations.The sex in her head was never common or clumsy, and she could always count on great reviews.

minor asteroids and points:

North Node: Capricorn

Lilith: Virgo

Her North Node in Capricorn dictated that she needed to develop the more caring and compassionate side to her personality and try to place less emphasis on the materialistic aspects of her life. Her Lilith in Virgo ensured that she exhibited a Madonna-whore complex; she made her way through the world with her sensational wits and she had no time for constricting judgments. She confronted the grittier facts of life, especially sex. She was good at sex but not as a form of sappy emotional expression.

elemental dominance:

fire

air

She was dynamic and passionate, with strong leadership ability. She generated enormous warmth and vibrancy. She was exciting to be around, because she was genuinely enthusiastic and usually friendly. However, she could either be harnessed into helpful energy or flame up and cause destruction. Ultimately, she chose the latter. Confident and opinionated, she was fond of declarative statements such as “I will do this” or “It’s this way.” When out of control—usually because she was bored, or hadn’t been acknowledged—she was be bossy, demanding, and even tyrannical. But at her best, her confidence and vision inspired others to conquer new territory in the world, in society, and in themselves. She was communicative, quick and mentally agile, and she liked to stir things up. She was likely a havoc-seeker on some level. She was oriented more toward thinking than feeling. She carried information and the seeds of ideas. Out of balance, she lived in her head and could be insensitive to the feelings of others. But at her best, she helped others form connections in all spheres of their daily lives.

modality dominance:

fixed

She wasn’t particularly interested in spearheading new ventures or dealing with the day-to-day challenges of organization and management. She excelled at performing tasks and producing outcomes. She was flexible and liked to finish things. Was also likely undependable, lacking in initiative, and disorganized. Had an itchy restlessness and an unwillingness to buckle down to the task at hand. Probably had a chronic inability to commit—to a job, a relationship, or even to a set of values.

planet dominants:

Sun

Mars

Pluto

She had vitality and creativity, as well as a strong ego and was authoritarian and powerful. She likely had strong leadership qualities, she definitely knew who she was, and she had tremendous will. She met challenges and believed in expanding her life. She was aggressive, individualistic and had a high sexual drive. She believed in action and took action. Her survival instinct was strong. She wanted to take herself to the limit—and then surpass that limit, which she often did. She ultimately refused to compromise her integrity by following another’s agenda. She likely didn’t compare herself to other people and didn’t want to dominate or be dominated. She simply wanted to be free to follow her own path, whatever it was. She brought about complete and profound transformations in her life, good or bad (and it was often bad). She felt the need to let go of what was familiar to her and accept new and different ways of being and doing things. There were areas in her life where she had to accept regeneration, which involved the destruction of the old and the creation of the new.

sign dominants:

Leo

Gemini

Cancer

She loved being the center of attention and often surrounded herself with admirers. She had an innate dramatic sense, and life was definitely his stage. Her flamboyance and personal magnetism extended to every facet of her life. She wanted to succeed and make an impact in every situation. At her best, she was optimistic, honorable, loyal, and ambitious. She ventured out to see what else was there and seized upon new ideas that will expand their communities. Her innate curiosity kept her on the move. She used her rational, intellectual mind to explore and understand her personal world. She needed to answer the single burning question in her mind: why? This applied to most facets of her life, from the personal to the impersonal. This need to know sent her off to foreign countries, where her need to explore other cultures and traditions ranked high. She was changeable and often moody. This meant that she was often at odds with herself—the mind demanding one thing, the heart demanding the opposite. To someone else, this internal conflict often manifested as two very different people. At first meeting, she seemed enigmatic, elusive. She needed roots, a place or even a state of mind that he could call her own. She needed a safe harbor, a refuge in which to retreat for solitude. She was generally gentle and kind, unless he was hurt. Then she could become vindictive and sharp-spoken. She was affectionate, passionate, and even possessive at times. She was intuitive and was perhaps even psychic. Experience flowed through her emotionally. She was often moody and always changeable; her interests and social circles shifted constantly. She was emotion distilled into its purest form.

Read more about her under the cut.

Athalia Ponsell Lindsley was a former model, Broadway performer, actress, dancer and television personality who died in a savage late-afternoon attack at her home on Jan. 23, 1974. Wife of the once mayor of St. Augustine, James "Jinx" Lindsley, who died a few years after her death. Mrs. Athalia Lindsley was very active politically.

She also took in many animals, such as dogs, cats and even two goats. At the time of her murder, she was outside trying to rehabilitate one of her rescue birds, a blue jay named Clementine which had an injured wing. She had rescued the little bird from neighborhood cats.

Athalia Ponsell Lindsley was a very devoted daughter who took care of her mother full time until her mother passed away.

She was 58 years old when her life was brutally cut short.

A neighbor and local politician was the only person ever arrested and tried for her murder, after a very dramatic trial, a jury found the defendant not guilty, and he was acquitted

(x)

[percywinchester27]

A lot like ‘Us’ (Part-12)

Word count: 5.4K

Pairing: Sam X Reader AU

Warnings: Feels, pining, fluff ;)

Series Summary: Y/N Y/L/N is eager and honestly, still in awe that she managed to get herself an acceptance from Stanford Law School. On the face of it, her life seems as put together, mysterious and independent as one might hope for. On the insides, she carries the burden of past that haunts her till date. Seemingly, she’d left it all behind; that is until she sets foot in the class of the Law School’s youngest, most promising professor.

A/N: I am so excited to see what you think of this chapter! I haven’t made a secret of the fact that this is one of my absolute favorite chapters. I had a lot of fun writing it <3

The story employs two different timelines. The present timeline for the story takes place in 2014. Please let me know what you guys think :)

Beta: @deanssweetheart23​​. You are a goddess. I love you <3

A lot like ‘Us’ masterlist

Sam regretted it the moment he stepped into the bar. The lights were dim, the music was hip and it was too full of people. What was more, a lot of those faces seemed familiar. Maybe he had seen them around the campus?

Sam found a corner booth, away from the bar counter and the pool table. It was isolated and about as quiet as any table was going to get. He drew out his phone and texted Jody.

“I’m here. Where are you?”

Sighing, he locked the screen on his phone. Sam was beyond exhausted. He had stayed up the night, driven for close to twelve hours in total to and fro from LA, and went cut to cut with one of the fiercest attorneys he had ever met. At least, James was out for good. The look on his face at the sight of Sam had been worth everything. Sam had been so scared that he wouldn’t be able to get the kid out. Now that he had, all he wanted to do was fall in bed and not wake up till Sunday. 

Even as that thought took shape, he knew he was lying to himself. More than anything, he wanted to find Y/N and thank her for her help last night, let her know how the hearing went. If someone at Acton Gris had helped him, he would have taken them along for the hearing because the effort deserved it. A part of him had wanted to ask Y/N. She would be allowed, since she was a law student accompanying the attorney, but Sam didn’t think he could handle being in her presence for so long. Besides, she’d had classes in the morning. Either way, she deserved to know the verdict. He had contemplated emailing her, then thought better of it. Maybe he would drop by at the library to see if it was her shift. It was only 12. The library would be open for at least two more hours.

He banished the thought as quickly as it appeared, though, physically shaking his head. He needed to factor in the consideration that she probably didn’t want to keep running into him all the time.

His phone pinged. It was Jody letting him know that Alex was yet to get home from some party of her own and that she would be late, if she came at all. 

Fantastic. Simply fantastic.

He should have just gone to bed. Being in bars at midnight? He was too old for this. It had been Jody’s idea to begin with! She was the one who had made plans for the weekend and was standing him up now.

“Professor Winchester?”

Sam groaned internally before seeing who had called him. It was a glimmeringly clad freshman from his class. 

Could the evening get any worse? He had to run into his students.

“Ohmygosh! I can’t believe you’re here,” gushed the girl. Sam vaguely remembered that her name was Staten.

The other girl whose name Sam didn’t know at all nodded vigorously. “You’re so cool!”

Both of them were bright eyed and obviously tipsy. That was a combination for trouble if Sam had ever seen one. 

He got up. “Nice to see you ladies,” he said sliding out of the booth. “I’m going to step out for just a second. Y’all have fun.”

“Mr. Winchester,” one of them called, but Sam was out the back door. Few years of teaching had taught him enough in that department. During his early days, years ago, when he first started as a visiting faculty, he would insist that the class call him by his first name. He had been ignorant about how it came across and only after a couple of students had made a pass at him had he grown wary and stuck to being addressed by his last name. It never got less weird, having people address him as ‘Mr. Winchester,’ but he was used to it now.

Stepping outside, Sam breathed in the cold air, wondering again what the hell he was doing here.

He pulled out his phone and dialed Jody.

She picked up on the second ring. “I’m so sorry, Sam!” She apologised profusely. “Alex’s tyre gave out and she’s stranded a couple miles out.”

“Shit. Do you want me to pick her up?”

“No, it’s alright,” she reassured. “She’ll feel awful about you driving out to get her. I’m heading out now. Please just wait a little longer. I feel horrible about keeping you waiting, especially since it was my idea.”

He looked at the watch. It was quarter past twelve. “Jody…” he sighed.

“Okay, wait for just fifteen more minutes,” she bargained. “If I’m not there by then, you can go home and I’ll owe you drinks for the rest of the year.”

“Rest of your life, and we have a deal,” Sam smiled despite himself. “Okay. Fifteen minutes.”

“You drive a hard bargain,” She said, clearly amused. “That’s how you become a good lawyer. Okay, Fine.”

Sam laughed.

“You know I love you, Winchester.”

“I know you do!”

Sam put the phone back in his pocket. He wouldn’t have known what to do with his life if Jody hadn’t stepped in and taught him how to look after another person who was solely dependent on him. She was the best friend and mentor he could have asked for.

He slid back inside the bar, determined to avoid any and each student he saw. Especially the drunk ones. Luck was on his side. The whole freshman gang had moved to the pool table, removed from the main area. This late he would have expected the crowd to thin out, but hoards of people were on the dance floor moving their bodies to the rhythm of the song. Taking advantage of the crowd, Sam went over to the bar counter.

“Jack. Neat!” He asked the woman behind the counter. She had long dark hair and a mischievous smile.

“Coming right up, handsome!” She winked.

Sam smiled awkwardly as she slid the glass.

“Hey, Mister! Repeat this one!”

Sam’s head snapped in the direction of the voice. It was loud and bossy and Y/N’s.

“Y/N?” The bartender in front of him squinted at the girl two benches from him, clearly surprised.

Sam would have moved sooner, but he was awestruck at the sight of her. Y/N was wearing a silky, satiny top that was cut low and clung to her body like a second skin over tight jeans and heeled boots. Her hair cascaded over her bare shoulders like a nymph’s. Sam’s throat went dry.

The bartender rushed over to her. “Christ, Y/N!” she said. “What’re you doing here?”

Y/N looked at her with wide, surprised eyes. “Pam! OH MY GOD, PAM! It’s you! 

“Yes, I work here,” the bartender, whose name was apparently Pam, said. “Rob, how much has she had to drink?”

The guy shrugged. “One vodka, three tequillas. I don’t know about before.”

“Y/N?” Pam patted Y/N’s face. “Are you by yourself?”

“Kinda!” Y/N giggled, tossing her hair back in a smooth flip. Sam’s heartbeat spiked at the sight. He absolutely couldn’t wrench his eyes away.

Y/N bent over the counter, then jerked her thumb at the freshman gang and whispered conspiratorially. “I’m with those guys over there, but I don’t think they care if I wander off. Can I tell you a secret? Most of them are douchebags anyway.”

“Rob!” Pam barked. “Do we have a standby? Rinny? Or just anyone else?”

“It’s just us tonight.”

“Well, fuck!” Pam swore.

“Y/N, honey,” she tried to get Y/N to listen to her, but Y/N was already trying to sit up on the bar, blowing kisses at Pam. “You’re the best, Pam. Just the absolute best and I love how much you love my cookies.”

“Everyone loves your cookies, honey, but you need to get down.”

“Okay… Okay,” Y/N winked. She slipped as she tried to get down from the counter. Reflexively Sam moved, catching her before she crashed to the ground.

“I got you, don’t worry,” he said in a low voice only to her and she looked up at him with wide confused eyes. 

“Hey, get your hands off of her, Mister.” Pam hissed, looking scarily angry. “I said, let go of her. Right now.”

Sam did so immediately, but Y/N didn’t let go of his shirt. “I know her,” he tried to explain to Pam, who looked like she was on the verge of calling the bouncers.

“Yeah, that’s right, you know her,” Pam grimaced. “Very believable.”

“I swear, I know her,” Sam said, wildly trying to explain. “Her name’s Y/N Y/L/N. She’s a law student at the university. First year, hails from Kansas and feels insanely cold.” Sam started spewing random facts he could think of. “Her favourite book is To kill a mockingbird. She bakes amazing muffins-”

She likes her coffee with very little milk, is scared of ducks and has a birthmark in the middle of her lower back. She likes listening to classical music and waking up early…

Meanwhile, Y/N was still looking at him in wonderment, shushing herself.

“How do you know all that about her?” Pam looked at him with suspicion and mingled curiosity.

“I’m her-” it hurt to say- “ her friend.”

She still didn’t look completely convinced.

“Y/N?” Pam asked the girl in Sam’s arms. “You know this man?”

Don’t be that far gone, Sam prayed internally. Please don’t be that far gone.

“Pfftt,” Y/N scoffed, with such force that she lost her footing again. “It’s Sam! I’d sooner forget myself than not know him! What sort of dumb question is this?”

Sam.

She had said his name. It had caressed her lips. Was it even possible to be jealous of your own name?

Pam  raised her eyebrows.

“Look,” she said, “I can’t leave my shift to drop her home and no one I can call will be up this late. Y/N clearly knows you. Do you think you can drop her home?”

“I-I don’t know where she stays!”

Pam quickly wrote down an address. “It’s just a couple blocks away. I’m going to call her cell in a while, so you better not try anything funny.”

Sam wanted to roll his eyes, but he was too terrified at the prospect of being left alone with Y/N. He glanced around to see a couple of looks coming their way.

“Yeah, I’ll take her,” he said finally. “The hangover will hit her hard in a while, it’s better that she’s home then. Trust me, I know.”

Pam took one look from his face to Y/N wrapped around his torso. “Thanks, man.”

He nodded and then slowly guided Y/N out. “C’mon. Let’s get you home.”

“You know where I live?” She asked, tilting her head to one side.

“I do now.” Fortunately or unfortunately it was right next to Sam’s street. 

He adjusted her so that she was tucked under his side. Her fingers were still boldly clutching at his undershirt, sending shocks of sensation throughout his body. 

“This way, c’mon,” He guided her forward.

“Stop pushing me. I. Can’t. Walk. Any. Faster!” She whined. “These shoes suck.”

“Okay, let’s just sit for a while.” He slowly steered her to a bench on the street. It wasn’t right outside the bar, hence, out of clear view. Sam lowered her onto the bench and she promptly pulled her feet up, trying to slide the zipper on her shoes. They honestly looked like a death trap of sorts. The zipper stuck out adamantly as she yanked at it with all her might.

Hands trembling, he caught hold of hers. “Wait. Let me.”

Slowly, with a steadier hand, Sam dragged down the zippers on both her shoes- carefully, to not touch her skin- freeing her feet. She drew into herself, massaging the reddened skin on the arch and the back of her heel. 

“Stupid Meg,” she muttered. “Shouldn’t have let her put me in these.” 

She massaged her toes. “It hurts.”

“Will you let me take a look at it?” He asked hesitantly. Y/N twisted her body and put both her feet straight into his lap. 

“Here! Look all you want.”

Her hair was fluttering lightly in the wind and despite the chill, she wasn’t reaching for the leather jacket. Looking at her was like looking at the sun. He wanted to, but couldn’t, because it hurt at the same time. The satin of her blouse was kissing her soft skin in all the right places.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Y/N teased collusively. She scooted closer, almost sitting completely in his lap now. “Can I tell you a secret? I think about it, too.”

Sam pushed her away lightly and God it hurt to do it, but she wasn’t in her senses right now. Sober, she wouldn’t have wanted any of this.

“We should get you home!” He said in a tight voice.

“No!” She was adamant. “Why are you in such a hurry to get away from me?”

Oh the irony. “You were the one who left me, Y/N.” 

Y/N not having heard a word of it was scooting closer to him again. She laid her head on his shoulder, and snaked her arms around his waist. Sam stilled, not even daring to breathe.

“Let’s just stay here forever. You and me.” She laughed all of a sudden. “This is literally the best dream I’ve ever had. I can actually feel you.” She hugged him tighter to prove her point. “See?”

“Is this what your dreams are made up of?” 

“The good ones, yeah,” she sighed tiredly. “But mostly they’re just bad and I’m cold and there’s so much water, Sam. There was so much water.”

Suddenly she started shivering and Sam pulled the jacket over her shoulders.

She looked up with tears in her eyes. “Sam, the water! And there’s so much glass. It hurts.”

A deep pain and grief that he hadn’t felt in years threatened to swallow Sam whole. “Oh, baby,” he said, at last throwing his arms around her. “It’s not real. It happened a long time ago.”

“I can’t breathe. There’s too much water.” Her words were slow and slurred. Despite that, the picture she painted was horrifying.

The memories all flashed before his eyes like it had happened yesterday. But he refused to go under. Not now.

Sam allowed himself to comfort her and be comforted by her. In this one thing, they were together. He held her as close as he had dreamed for years, yet not truly believing that this was actually happening. She smelled just the same, and the way her body curved into his hadn’t changed at all.

Sam held her like that for an immeasurable time. It felt both like an eternity and mere seconds all at once. A crazed traveller wouldn’t be more desperate for an Oasis than Sam felt for her touch. And knowing that this would end soon, that these were stolen moments made it heaven and hell at the same time.

“Y/N,” he tried again. “We need to get you home.” I need to get you home.

She didn’t reply.

“Are you asleep?”

“Yes!” She muttered and in spite everything Sam had to stifle a laugh. 

She had no footwear on, after getting herself out of those insane shoes. Sam removed his flip flops and slid them under her feet. They were way too big, but it was better than nothing. 

“Up you come.” He hoisted her slowly to her feet.

“Whoa!” She said, “everything is spinning so fast.”

“Just hold on to me. The spinning will go away.” He guided her slowly. “This way now.”

Her grasp on his shoulder slipped, pulling his shirt down with him.

“Oooohhh fancy,” she snickered, trying to touch the thin chain around his neck.

Sam fixed his shirt with the other hand so it wasn’t visible. She didn’t need to know.

It must look absurd, the two of them walking down the street. Sam, barefoot, carrying a pair of her heels in one hand and holding her by the waist with the other. Meanwhile, Y/N was humming lightly to herself, giggling at silly things, slipping and sliding in his flip flops.

At long last, they reached the address that Pam had given. Sam knew the building, he walked past it everyday to get home. The building had a solid, high compound wall, covered in vines. Keeping a tight hold on Y/N, he pushed the wrought iron gate. It creaked as it opened, leaving Sam staring at a beautiful front yard. There was curving shrubbery around the small circular garden and a mermaid shaped fountain flowing water in a circular basin with seating around it.

“Hahahaaa Judgy Judy isn’t too pleased with us,” Y/N told him sagely. “She hates people who drink even more than people who turn up late.”

“Why did you drink anyway?” He asked. “You don’t even like doing it.”

Y/N broke off, stumbling into the path. She glared at him. “Oh, so it’s okay for you to go out on dates with other people but it’s not okay for me to drink?”

That’s what she thought? That he had been in the bar for a date? Was that why she had drank?

Sam’s mind was reeling. If what she was saying was true, it meant that it mattered to her what Sam did or didn’t do with his life. Unless she still cared.

“You really think I would do that?” Abruptly, he was angry. If she cared enough to be mad with him, why had she left him to begin with?

Y/N had already moved on from the conversation. She was staring up at the mermaid’s face.

“Sam? You remember that time we went to the fair and rode the ferris wheel?”

He did remember. “You fainted immediately after.”

“Yeah, this feels exactly like that…” Y/N staggered on the spot and Sam rushed to catch her. The minute his hands found her arm, she threw up spectacularly on the front of his shirt, retching till there wasn’t anything left. Then, she promptly passed out in his arms.

He stood there for a second, looking about him, but no help was going to arrive at 2 in the night.

This was bad, very very bad. He had hoped to drop her home and then go back to his own place to wallow about how unfair the world was. What was he supposed to do now?

He had no clue if she stayed by herself. He couldn’t just leave her by herself when she was sick.

Slowly, he led her to the seating around the fountain. She laid down on it, groaning lightly.  

Sam removed his shirt, bundled it up and using some of the water from the fountain, wiped the puke from his jeans and Y/N’s feet along with his flip flops. Then he bent down and swooped her in his arms, carrying her inside the building. Getting into the lift and to her apartment was easy enough. Wrestling the key out of the purse and then unlocking the door all the while supporting her wasn’t so much.

It was pretty clear to Sam that there was no one else in the apartment when he entered. All that noise would have brought someone out by now. He barely looked at the living room, before laying Y/N down on the sofa there. There was a kitchenette to the right side. Sam poured a glass of water, added a spoon of sugar and a pinch of salt after looking through the jars. He walked back to where Y/N was curled up on the sofa and coaxed her to drink it.

She made a face, refusing to take a sip.

“Trust me, you’ll thank me tomorrow.”

“No.”

She was so stubborn sometimes. “Please? For me?”

“For you?” Her expression was guileless, it was almost his undoing, but Sam pushed on. “Yes, for me.”

She took the glass from him and downed it in one go, distaste clear on her expression.

The phone started ringing right when she put the glass down. Sam had to fish it from her purse. The caller ID read ‘Pamela Barnes.’

“Here,” Sam handed the phone to Y/N. “It’s for you.”

“Hello!” She sang. “Yeah, yeah… I’m home…”

Sam didn’t hang around for the rest of the conversation. He returned the glass to the kitchen and made more of the Sugar-salt solution in a bottle.

Y/N was idly playing with a lock of her hair.

“Can we go to bed now? Please?” She mumbled drowsily.

“You,” Sam stressed “are going to bed. Which one is your room?”

Sleepily, she pointed towards the door next to the kitchenette. He lifted her once more in his arm, thinking how bizarre all of this was as he walked towards the room. It felt nothing short of euphoric to hold her like this, like he was on some sort of wild once in a lifetime adventure, even if touching her like this used to be normal for him once upon a time. He gently laid her down on the bed. She stretched out on the sheets immediately, a smile on her lips.

He could have stared and stared. Sam decided to take one long look at her, memorising the exact color of her hair, the fullness of her lips and the rhythm of her breaths. Just as he turned to leave, Y/N’s hand shot out to grab the hem of his T-shirt.

“Why? Why did it happen to us?” She said, her face drawn in lines of anguish. “We were good people. You still are. Then, why?”

Sam took a deep breath. “Because life isn’t fair. You of all people should know that by this point. And I’ve hardly been a good person since.” 

“Shhhhh….” She put a finger to her lip. “You’re the best, Sam. You always have been.”

“Then why did you leave me? Why couldn’t you trust me enough to stay? Have enough faith in me to know that I could make it okay for us? I loved you more than anything, Y/N. And you left me anyway.” He knew full well that she wouldn’t remember a thing in the morning, she was barely even listening now. So how did it matter what he said?

“Don’t go,” she moaned. 

“Y/N… you know I can’t stay.”

“Please… Nothing’s right when you’re not here.”

In an odd twisted way, it was the truth. Nothing was right when she wasn’t with him.

“Please, Sam,” she sighed. “Don’t leave me. Promise me.”

He gave in. How could he not? “I promise,” he said finally. “I’ll stay tonight.” 

She smiled contentedly and her breathing evened out soon after.

Slowly, Sam disentangled his t-shirt from his grip.

In the bathroom, he washed his bundled up shirt, cleaning it completely, then used it to wash off whatever was left on his jeans and t-shirt. Thankfully, Y/N’s clothes hadn’t been spoilt and didn’t need any cleaning. The apartment had a beautiful balcony that overlooked the garden below. He hung his shirt on the railing to dry it in the breeze. 

Sam checked on Y/N once more under the guise of placing the water bottle next to her bed. She was splayed wildly now. The straps of her blouse had slid further down her arm, revealing the tops of her breasts. He looked away. As lightly as he could, Sam freed the covers from beneath her and drew them over her, tucking her comfortably underneath them. Then he made his way to the living room sofa, closing Y/N’s bedroom door after her. 

The sofa was much too small to accommodate him, but Sam managed to lie on his back, legs folded and body wedged between the two armrests. After a while of twisting and turning, he rested his head on one armrest and threw his legs over the other, staring at the apartment walls and decorations. Most of it was too delicate, like the filigree on the curtains and the carved screens dividing part of the kitchenette from the rest of the living room. That certainly wasn’t Y/N’s taste. Either it came with the apartment or her room mate had put it there. There were some things, however, that were distinctly Y/N- the flowers and plants in the balcony, the solid wood coffee stand and the classy oven. The little China decorating the kitchen bar must’ve been her grandmothers. Nothing… absolutely nothing in the house proved that he had ever played a part in her life. Sam decidedly curbed the disappointment and bitterness he felt.

So, she had moved on from him. Hadn’t the past month taught him as much? 

A month ago he wouldn’t have believed that he’d end up a room away from a very drunk Y/N. So close, yet so far. He closed his eyes, recalling how it felt to have her arms around his waist, feel the press of her body against his as he lifted her in his arms. He could live out the rest of his life holding onto those memories, even if it never happened again, even if she never remembered it…

“Who the fuck are you?”

Sam’s eyes snapped open. A girl was standing over him with a ferocious expression.

He sat up groggily, disoriented about his surroundings. Who was this girl?

“I asked who the fuck are you and what are you doing in my apartment?”

Sam groaned, blinking his eyes in the still dark room. “I’m Sam. I helped Y/N home last night.”

“Where’s she? Is she okay?” 

The shift in her tone was sudden, from angry to concerned.

“Yeah, she’s fine,” Sam yawned. “She just had too much to drink.”

“And how do you know her?”

“I’m her- “ It physically ached to not say it. “I’m her… friend.”

The girl, who Sam assumed was her roommate, Meg, raised an eyebrow. “Friend, huh? How come she’s never talked about you before?”

Because she doesn’t care anymore.

Suddenly Sam was very tired. “Look, I’ve known her since a long time. We lost touch a while ago. I met her at college.”

Meg didn’t seem very convinced. She harrumphed and crossed her arms.

“I’m going to head out, now that you’re back,” he said, standing up and straightening his back. It was completely screwed. He walked over to the balcony and retrieved his now dried shirt. Meg eyed it dubiously.

“You didn’t try anything with her, did you?”

Again, the irony of someone else being concerned that he of all people would try to harm Y/N twisted his mouth into a bitter smirk.

“Look, mister…” Meg started and Sam put his hands up. He was too exhausted to hold this argument. 

“I just put her to bed. That’s all,” he said. “Heads up, she has terrible hangovers. You might want to keep the bathroom accessible and the Advil ready.”

With that he stalked out of the room. 

It wasn’t a long walk to his home from there, barely even five minutes, but Sam’s head was buzzing with thoughts. Last night everything had been so hurried and he was the only one who could have helped her out. But what now?

He and Y/N had barely started talking. He still didn’t know what was going on in her head. Last night had changed all of that, at least for him. If it had been hard to not think about her before, it was damn well impossible now. She was consuming his every thought, shadowing every emotion. What if she remembered everything she had said last night? What if she’d actually meant those things?

“Don’t go” 

“Please… Nothing’s right when you’re not here.”

“Please, Sam, Don’t leave me. Promise me.”

Each time his name had fallen off her lips, it was like she was resurrecting his long dead heartbeat. He wanted to dare, he wanted to hope and believe that there was some chance.

But what if she didn’t remember anything at all? Sam knew that he would die inside if that happened. It was one thing to not feel hope, and another altogether to kill it with one's own hands. 

His mind was a cacophony of noises and emotions all warring against each other as he reached his house. On the door steps, sat a solitary figure, waiting for him.

“Jody?”

The sky was just starting to lighten. What was she doing here?

He frowned at her, wondering what on earth could have brought her here this early in the morning. She stared back evenly; there was none of the usual warmth in her eyes, instead they were full of distrust and disappointment.

“Jody, is everything okay?” 

“You tell me, Winchester,” she said, coming to stand right next to him, her stature severe.

“I-I don’t know what you mean.”

“Really?” She spat. “Don’t you think you’ve been acting differently? At first I thought, being by yourself was getting to you.”

“Jody, I seriously don’t understand.”

“Fine I’ll cut to the chase. Where were you last night?”

It was the last thing Sam had expected. He couldn't tell her the truth. Where would he even start with the truth? “I was-”

She raised her hand and Sam flinched at the hostile expression on her face. “Save it, Sam. I know exactly what you were doing last night. I saw you sitting on the bench outside the bar with that girl.”

Sam jerked upright.

“I’ve known you for years, Sam. Years. I taught you everything I knew. I’ve never been prouder of any student I’ve had and this is what you do with all that trust? This is how you abuse your power?”

Her words rang louder than they should have in Sam’s ears. “Jody-”

“Don’t even try to make excuses. At first, when I saw her in your office, I didn’t think anything of it. Sure, she looked close to tears, but a lot of freshmen are always anxious. But then I saw you in the library with her. The way you looked at Y/N? That’s not how a teacher looks at their student!” Jody looked disgusted. “And tonight? Y/N was clearly drunk, for Christ’s sake! How can you possibly justify the way you were holding her?”

“Because she’s my WIFE!” He shouted, breathing hard, feeling the heat coming off of his face. “I married her and I love her!” 

It was beyond cathartic to finally say those words out loud. Up until this point Sam hadn’t realised that since he had seen Y/N in his class, those very words had been strangling him, poisoning him. Now that he had finally said them, the strength in his legs gave away. He sat down on the steps with a thud.

Jody’s face had gone very white. “Sam…”

“Tonight was nothing more than me helping a girl who needed it. Nothing more than that,” he said through gritted teeth, blinking rapidly at the wetness on his lashes. “You know I respect you, Jody, but even you don’t get to tell me if I can hold my own wife.”

She sat down next to him, now at a complete loss of words. “Is this the same girl…?”

Sam nodded, unable to form words.

“Sam, I’m so sorry,” she said, drawing him close. “I didn’t know. You should have said something.”

“Said what?” He said through a thick throat, angry with himself for showing weakness now when he had held it together for so long. “That my wife who walked out on me years ago because she didn't trust me to save our marriage is suddenly back? As my student after six years? Is that what I should have declared when I didn’t even know if she wanted to see my face? Is that what I should’ve said?”

“Oh, you sweet boy. I’m so sorry,” Jody ran her hands over his shoulders. “Sorry that you’ve been suffering and sorry that I doubted you at all. You don’t need to say anything now. C’mere.”

Firmly she drew him towards her and threw her arms around his neck. Sam hugged back, closing his eyes tightly so that the tears rolled over into the cotton of her shirt.

“Shhhh…” she said. “It’s going to be alright.”

Sam didn’t know if there was any truth in her words, but he allowed himself to be comforted, allowed himself to draw some warmth from his oldest friend here. Allowed himself to start healing.

**************************  

A/N 2: *Wiggles eyebrows* Who all saw it coming? ;)

PLEASE let me know what you think of this story?

If you want be tagged, you can send me an ask or add yourself to the taglist here.

Or here’s my side blog @percywinchester27-writes. You can give that blog a follow and turn the notifications on to know about updates.

GIF Credit (It wouldn’t let me put it before the cut :/)

ALLU taglist

@feelmyroarrrr  @gabavaldman​  @im-a-light-child​  @cosicas-cuquis​  @bllyjianne​  @hoboal87​  @i-is-for-inspiring​  @daughterleftbehind​  @wackiekebab​  @mylovelydame21​   @dancing-the-hellfire-rumba​  @superbadassnatural​  @bellastellaluna​  @babypink224221​  @badlittlehabit99​  @anathewierdo​  @sams-bubblegum-bitch​  @damn-it-now-im-obsessed  @fandomoverdose666​  @superstarmarvel​  @atc74​  @aiofheavenandhell​  @rebel-author-chick​  @death-unbecomes-you​  @cookiechipdough​  @kbl1313​  @linki-locks11​  @miss-nerd95​  @sunflowers-n-rocknroll​  @stoneyggirl​  @like-a-bag-of-potatoes​

[kingofthecon]

@mcgucketxgonzales //Liked/Reblogged Starter Call - Randomized: Secret Genuis AU// The surprise that came from his parents he managed to somewhat pull his grades up was pretty gratifying, especially when no one could say that he cheated. The first go around, sure. One of his teachers, the one who said she knew he had potential, didn't write off his passing grade in the typical fashion. Any other teacher would have automatically assumed that, oh yeah Ford was right next to him. We'll fail him and get it over with. No, this teacher decided to move a desk out into the hallway and force him to retake a test or redo an assignment. He passed. It was after a particularly nasty fight with Ford that Stanley started participating in class assignments. He'd been fine with playing the role of the dumb kid in order to help boost his brother's self-esteem. Ford was always being picked on for his hands and his intellect was pretty much the one thing he had going for him. Stanley was the "normal" one, as people would say. Normal amount of fingers, average intelligence, nothing to write home about, but they were wrong. He was just as smart as Stanford. He just chose to skirt by. He worked hard to pull his grades up and though it was too late for West Coast Tech, he still had a few colleges glancing his way - a few teachers wondering why the heck he hadn't shown such promise before. One of the brochures that caught his attention was for Backupsmore. Honestly it was far enough away from Jersey - his father and the life he'd been living before - that he naturally jumped at the chance run away from all that, lousy twin brother included (despite the fact Ford had already left him in the dust.) Without looking back Stanley made the drive to campus where he got a tour of the building as well as the dormatories where he'd be staying along with a dormmate. Despite the bugs and the idea of sharing his space with a total stranger it was such a relief to get out of Jersey - to no longer have to worry about being one half of the "Stan Twins" or "Pines twins". He was just Stanley. Or Stan. Or Lee! And though he didn't plan to do anything amazing at this college (college wasn't really in his plans after all, this was just a massive fuck you to everyone who kept putting him down) he still planned to put forth some effort with his grades mainly so he could have a place to live. He wasn't going back to Jersey and the thought of being a homeless bum made his shudder. He knew the statisticis. "Wonder what my dormmate is gonna be like..."

[claramurphyqueenoffandoms]

Imma drop another fic-I’ve-been-working-on-for-years-but-never-written-or-posted-about on you guys, okay?

Okay, so, I hadn’t even thought about this thing in months (and I wouldn’t have normally, since I’m prepping for an actual novel in NaNovember), but a friend of mine who I collabbed with on it a while back, @eruanna1875 (posting on @saved-for-me-own-stories), asked me about it for this Oc-Tober challenge thing she’s doing. I said she could use one specific part of it, and it got me thinking about it again.

So the name I’m giving it is “The Journal of Shermie Pines”. Basically, it’s Shermie Pines—Dipper and Mabel’s grandfather—as a kid, thirteen years old. He winds up going to stay in Gravity Falls with Stanford, who is in the midst of investigating stuff and writing Journal 2, in the summer of 1980. Shermie gets interested in his own investigations with some new friends, and adventures ensue.

Shermie is the main character, who chronicles his adventures and findings via notebook-journal (he was kind of forced to by Ma Pines, but he gets into it). He’s intelligent, curious, and skeptical, but also very self-confident. Bit of a take-charge type. Has the same kind of problem as his brothers, can’t say a specific common politeness (this one is “I’m sorry”).

There are a few kids he hangs out with over the summer (very poorly named for the most part), but the main one of them is Sandi Meier. She’s lived in Gravity Falls all her life, and is enthusiastic about the weird stuff (especially the “Mystery Man” who lives in the woods, and the Shortcut) and about being helpful to anybody, but also quieter and more gentle by nature than, say, Mabel.

(She and Shermie totally aren’t gonna get married when they grow up.)

I think I ought to do a character template or two for some of these. I haven’t thought about them in ages, and it’d help me figure them out.

But yeah, they’re the main kid characters, and they have some big adventures and plotlines over the summer, having to do with things like time travellers, dragons, and ancient guardian societies (I don’t remember why, but I think I called them the ROM or the ROHM??). Lots of references, lots of relationships, lots of explanations, lots of worldbuilding expansions.

I was planning on going even further, into the years after that summer, even leading up to The Summer (the show) and beyond, but I couldn’t really conclusively sort out quite how it’d work. So for now, I’ll stick with the summer of 1980.

But anyway, that’s the basics of it! Now I can just post into the void about it whenever I want! Or, you know, potentially get people interested in it. We’ll see how it plays out.

[destieltropecollection]

Destiel Trope Collection 2020 Day 23: Sam Ships It

My Sun and Stars | @banshee1013

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 1667 Main Tags/Warnings: Fluff, First Dates, Sam Ships It Summary: Sam sends Dean and Cas on a beer run, and somehow they end up in a meadow staring at clouds in the afternoon, and shooting stars at night. It's almost like... a date?

The Show | @Clio-philyra

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 1723 Main Tags/Warnings: Getting together, first kiss, love confessions, Sam ships it, Summary: Dean Winchester is all about the ladies. Isn’t he?

Wait For It | @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover​

Rating: General Word Count: 1821 Main Tags/Warnings: Sam Winchester Knows, Sam Winchester Ships Castiel/Dean Winchester, Stanford Student Sam Winchester, Eventual Happy Ending, Marriage Proposal, Alternate Universe - College/University, Castiel and Dean Winchester in Love, Sam Winchester is So Done Summary: Without warning or premonition, Dean Winchester lands in front of Sam, and starts to talk. He's got a new colleague. Novak, he calls him. With gritted teeth, frowning eyebrows, and feeling. They don't usually talk about people. So Sam listens. Considering the amount of time Dean devotes talking about how Novak walked into his office, stride radiating importance as though he'd been summoned by Dean himself - well, he really must be a pain in the ass. ~ OR ~ The One where Sam only knows as much as Dean tells him about Cas, and that's still enough for him to tell.

Love Me Like I Could Never Love Myself | @quicksilver-ships​

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 3232 Main Tags/Warnings: Sabriel, Destiel, Sam Ships It, Season 9, Post-9x03, Ezekiel!Sam, Ezekiel is Actually Ezekiel, Angst, Canon Divergence Summary: “All I wanna do right now is to go back to the bunker and drink and sleep! But you know what, I can’t do that, Sammy, because my bed still smells like Cas, and my booze still tastes like Cas, and Cas? Cas fuckin’ hates me now!”

Call me maybe | @notfunnydean​

Rating: General Word Count: 3328 Main Tags/Warnings: accidental call, Dean says something very bad, misunderstandings Summary: When Dean and Sam finish a hunt, they call Castiel to let him know they are coming back. Too bad Dean doesn’t realize that he is calling him accidently again after he hung up and what he says, changes everything for him.

These Are Healing Hands | @pray4jensen​

Rating: Mature Word Count: 4179 Main Tags/Warnings: Sam Ships It, Sharing a Bed, First Kiss, Domestic Summary: “How you feelin’?” Cas turns back to look at him over his shoulder. Dean’s done changing into his pajama shorts. Cas’ eyes rove over the freckles that litter Dean’s stomach before they’re hidden by the ratty shirt that he pulls on. “I should be asking you that,” Cas says and Dean wanders over, takes a seat at the edge of the bed next to him. “It's been two hours, Dean, and you’re still inebriated.”

A Lost Teddy Bear and a New Found Love | @gii-heylittleangel​

Rating: General Word Count: 4700 Main Tags/Warnings: pre-Destiel Summary: Dean has always been very responsible, especially when he needs to take care of his niece, Mary. But when they can't find her stuffed animal (a Stitch that's a few years younger than Sam), Dean starts to panic, not knowing what to do. Good thing the hot neighbor comes to save the day.

Artistic License | @tucuxia​

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 7022 Main Tags/Warnings: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Gabriel/Sam Winchester, Sam write Fanfiction Summary: Dean catches Sam reading fanfics one morning and decides to read some of the "Supernatural" books to try to understand what he sees in them.

Cara Mia | @agusvedder​

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 7115 Main Tags/Warnings: human AU, Morticia!Dean, Gomez!Cas, Halloween night, Sastiel, tattooed!Cas, Dean's first gay experience, smut, tooth rotting fluff, pansexual!Sam, Bi!Gabriel, Gay!Cas, Bi!Dean, happy ending. Summary: Dean loses a bet with his brother and has to go to a bar dressed as Morticia Addams. Lucky Dean, there's someone in that bar that knows the exact words he's waiting to hear.

It's Destiny | @mittensmorgul​

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 7277 Main Tags/Warnings: fluff and humor, case fic, long-suffering Sam, Sam pov, witch curses Summary: Something goes terribly wrong (or maybe painfully right) on a hunt. The witch they're after lobs a magical grenade made of purple sparkles and a miserably specific psychic gift at Sam as he runs out the door. With a nonstop connection directly into Dean and Cas's every thought, Sam is stuck in the middle of their ongoing idiocy regarding one another. Let's see how long it takes for him to crack...

Wolf Snuggles | @destielshipper4cas

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 7602 Main Tags/Warnings: Friends to Lovers, Shifters, Cudding & Snuggling, Idiots in Love, Wolves, Touch-Starved Castiel, Touch-Starved Dean, Mpreg Summary: (Shifter AU) Dean and Cas have been pining for each other for a while when Sam tricks them into attending a wolf cuddle party. If they can’t get their shit together and make a move, maybe their wolves can.

Hide and Wait (WIP) | Lillipad760 (AO3)

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 19654 Main Tags/Warnings: Domestic, ShipperSam, Shipper Mary, Friends to Lovers, mutual pining, I don’t think any warnings apply but maybe underage as Cas is 17 and Dean is 18? Summary: Cas and Dean are pining over one another to what seems like no avail. Mary has wanted them together for years. This is the story of how they both start to slip up until they realize that they both feel in love. Then they hook up.

ET Goes Home | @captainangua​

Rating: Mature Word Count: 52373 Main Tags/Warnings: Alien Cas, Child Sam, Alternate Universe, Sex Work, Top!Cas, Summary: Loose Lilo and Stitch AU: Before their untimely deaths, Dean and Sam’s parents were big believers in life in outer space. Dean’s had to base a lot on the knowledge that they were delusional. So when Sam’s new dog turns out to be a real live mind-reading, shape-shifting alien, he isn’t sure how to break it to his brother.

[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!

[introvert-no-chameleon]

A Familiar Face

Did y’all really think I wouldn’t at least write some Portal Pines AU? In my Tumblr? Haha. I wrote this in like three days between work, so hopefully, there aren’t too many glaring typos. 

I like how this short fic came out, so I hope y’all enjoy it. Many thanks to @3hobbitsinatrenchcoat for providing a Portal Mabel design that helped me get an idea of how she’d look as an adult being stuck between dimensions. 

Update 8/20/20: Fixed some typos and cleaned it up a little.

*

As Ford Pines scrambled through the busy streets of the marketplace, he found himself wondering how in the multiverse Bill managed to hire so many bounty hunters at the rate that he did. Currently, he had a humanoid, multi-armed, incredibly strong pursuer hot on his trail, effortlessly knocking civilians and objects out of her way. Yesterday, it had been a set of siblings from a race of lizard creatures that breathed fire and were capable of climbing walls. Assuming he would survive this encounter, he imagined tomorrow’s hunters would be equally, if not more, challenging to deal with. (He could still feel the raw skin on his shoulder rub against his bandages as he ran, a souvenir from the aforementioned lizardfolk).

Usually, in these circumstances, Ford wouId activate his interdimensional translator and escape, but it took time he currently did not have. That, and he still had business in this dimension, materials he needed to collect some material for the Quantum Destabilizer that he wasn’t sure he could find elsewhere. There would be no telling where he would end up next, and that was a risk he couldn’t afford taking right now. 

In a last-ditch attempt, Ford slid into the nearest alleyway, ducking in between some large baskets that smelled vaguely of a mix of oranges and limes (a hybrid of Earth citruses, perhaps?) and stayed, hunched over in the shadows.

A moment later, he felt the cold press of a blaster on the back of his neck. He lifted his hands up, dropping his own gun. It clattered on the concrete.

“Finally got you. I gotta hand it to you, Stanford Pines. You are very difficult to catch.” He didn’t have to see the bounty hunter behind him to know that she was smirking at him.

“Whatever Bill offered you,” he said, “I assure you, it will not be worth making a deal with him.”

She shoved him to his knees, then pushed him on his stomach with her boot. Three of her four arms held him down, shoving his cheek against the grimy floor. “Maybe not for you, human.”

He opened his mouth to reply, to give himself more time to try and find a way out, when he saw a small, circular object bounce towards him and landed inches away from his face. Upon closer inspection, it was a bright pink orb with a red blinking light.

A bomb.

Fuck.

The bounty hunter thought the same, because she yelped, releasing Ford and jumping back just as it went off. To his surprise, he had not blown to bits. He was, however, engulfed in a glittery pink puff of smoke. Tiny bits of glitter coating his throat.  He coughed out the glimmering purple particles.

What in the multiverse?

The bounty hunter screamed behind him. She began cursing in her native tongue, a language he, unfortunately, hadn’t studied (yet) so he couldn’t make out what she was saying, aside from the fact that she was very upset. He ducked his head when he heard her firing off her weapon.

He heard another pair of boots hit the ground followed by an enthusiastic whoop!, the bounty hunter grunt, a body smacking against a nearby dumpster, then silence.

A hand pulled him to his feet. He whirled around, fists raised, ready to deal with yet another creature after the bounty on his head, but instead was shocked to find another human face staring at him.

The woman was at least in her mid-forties, judging by the wrinkles around her mouth. Short, curly brown hair surrounded her face. Her eyes were concealed by goggles much like his, yet he could feel her staring right at him, her unwavering attention all directed at Ford. She grinned at him, apparently unperturbed by the fact that she had just gotten shot at by one of the most notorious bounty hunters in the multiverse. If anything, she seemed to be buzzing with excitement.

“Hope I didn’t startle you too hard,” She gave him his gun. “Oh, and don’t worry, the glitter is edible. It’s just for show.”

He snatched it away before she could try and use it against him. “Who are you? What do you want?”

The stranger seemed unbothered by his harsh tone. Thin eyebrows shot up over her goggles. “It’s impolite not to introduce yourself before asking somebody’s name. Especially when that someone just saved your ass.”

He glared at her. Something about her attitude felt very familiar, and not in a way that comforted him. “I have wanted posters all over this city, I doubt you don’t already know.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “So do I, but you don’t know my name.”

He began glancing around the alley. They were alone, for now, but he knew it wouldn’t stay that way for long. “There’s no time for this. I have to catch the next spaceship out of here…”

“…To get away from the bounty hunters Bill Cipher sent after you?”

He stiffened. In a smooth gesture, he pointed his gun at her face. “Are you with him?”

She furrowed her brows, more indignant than alarmed, mouth pressed into a tight frown. She raised her hands so that he could see her empty palms. “No, I’m trying to stop him!”

“Show me your eyes!” His grip on the gun tightened, the leather gloves creaking.

“Oh! Right, right,” she said. She began moving her scarf down along with her eyewear.

A pair of brown eyes looked at him expectantly. She had rather round cheeks and Ford wasn’t sure if it was the face, or the twinkle of mischief in her eyes, but he felt a wave of deja-vu, crash into him like a freight train. Ford had to shake his head, partially to ground himself, but also to remind himself that he had no time to be thinking about him.

“Can you point your gun away now? I already proved that the two-dimensional monster isn’t with me.”

He lowered his weapon, caught by surprise at the sudden iciness of her tone, and even more so at the way she talked about Bill.

“What do you know about Bill Cipher?”

“Way too much.” She didn’t even appear to be afraid. If anything, there was a fiery determination in her gaze, one that promised a vengeance fueled by years and years of resentment that he recognized wholeheartedly. “I helped you because I heard that lady mention that triangle jerk.” She jutted her thumb at the unconscious bounty hunter, who had a large, red boot-shaped mark on her cheek. “I haven’t met anybody who’s lasted as long against Bill as I have, so I wanted to see if it was true for myself.”

“Huh,” he said. 

Ever since he’d arrived in the multi-verse, even those who despised the demon were too afraid to even mention his name, let alone try and go against him. Yet this woman had just admitted, to a complete stranger, that she was working against him.

“You’re also being hunted by Bill?”

“Yup!” The cold fury melted away so quickly Ford almost though he’d imagined it. She was back to her chipper attitude as if they weren’t currently in the middle of a dangerous situation. “I’ve been hopping the multiverse trying to find a way to stop him for years. I thought I was the only one, too…”

A large group of people were yelling a few alleys away. Cursing himself for allowing himself to be so distracted, he holstered his weapon. “We’ve been here too long.”

“Yup, and that’s ship leaving,” she said, holding up a strange, flat watch with some numbers blinking over an image of a cartoonish pink cat. “We’d better catch it!”

Ford scowled. “We? I haven’t agreed to anything—”

She rolled her eyes as if Ford was the one being difficult in this situation. “Uh, I just met somebody who can help me out, I’m not just gonna not take that kind of an opportunity.”

“I travel alone. I assure you, whatever your situation is with Bill, it will only get worse if you follow me.”

“All I’m hearing is, ‘I’m a sad, lonely grumpyass who needs a friend, I’d be happy to have somebody like you tag along, Mabel.’ That’s my name, by the way, since you didn’t ask.”

The footsteps got closer, and Ford let out an exasperated grunt. “We won’t be able to catch the ship in time. We’ll need to lay low for now and wait for the next one.” He glanced at her long skirt. “That attire is unsuited for running. I would cut the skirt in order to escape more efficiently.”

Mabel smirked as if glad he’d finally brought up her clothing preferences. “This isn’t just a fashionable skirt, silly. It’s also a special cowl I made myself. Watch and learn.”

He was about to argue that while he himself had never followed fashion trends, he doubted that was in style in any universe, but was interrupted by her untying the long cloth from her waist, revealing more exercise-appropriate long pants. With a theatrical flourish, she put the cloth over her head and vanished in thin air.

Ford gaped at the spot where she’d stood, scanning the area to see if perhaps she’d teleported around him, but there was no sign of her. Then he felt a finger bop the tip of his nose, and he jerked back, instinctively reaching for his weapon.

“Relax, jumpy, it’s still me. I’m invisible! Neat trick, Eh?”

Her voice was inches from his face. He felt her wrap an arm around his waist, and just as he was about to protest and say that he did not appreciate physical contact, especially not from a stranger, he heard her shift next to him.

“Grappling hook!” Her voice boomed with boundless enthusiasm. He wondered how someone who had just gotten into a fight and supposedly followed his enemy on foot for at least a few miles could still manage to be so energetic.

He wasn’t able to wonder for long. Ford only had time to see the string of a grappling hook connect with an aircraft overhead before he was lifted into the air with a startled yelp. Had the woman not kept a strong grip on his side, he surely would’ve fallen. As it was, he was able to peer downwards and see the search party that had came after him continue down the streets, clueless to his presence overhead.

The wind whipped at his hair and clothes, as well as his companion’s. Her hood had fallen away, revealing her grin as she kept her gaze upwards, towards the ship they were latched onto. “I’m going to pull us up, so hold on!”

They came flying towards the ship at an alarming speed. He braced himself, tensing his body. For a moment, after the hook finished retracting, he thought they would fall for sure. But just as quickly, Mabel grabbed the edge of the latch that had begun to close with the ship’s ascent.

He also held on to it for dear life. With a grunt, he pulled himself over the edge, slipping inside.

Mabel managed to get in just as the hatch closed, engulfing them in darkness.

He rummaged his pocket for the orb he was looking for, shook it, and let if hover over him, illuminating his surroundings. Ford allowed himself to catch his breath now that he was finally aboard the ship. He’d spent a good hour running, and he hadn’t been able to catch a break until this point.

Mabel sat down with a deep sigh, wiping her brow. “That was close.”

“Indeed,” he said. He cleared his throat. “It seems I owe you a thanks.”

She waved it off. “Don’t mention it. Bill’s gonna be pissed, and that’s all the thanks I need.”

“That’s an…admirable, if not foolish mindset to have, but I share the sentiment.”

She raised her eyebrows, a glint of amusement in her eyes. “But, you could tell me your name, at least. I have to call you something.”

I was Ford’s turn to raise his eyebrow. A part of him said that he shouldn’t risk speaking to this stranger, but something else, perhaps his instincts, told him he could trust her. At the very least, he saw the benefit of an ally that was capable of fending for themselves, and one that had a common goal.

“…Stanford.” He made to extend his hand so that she could shake it, but hesitated. He hadn’t seen another, non-hostile human in years. He was aware how people felt about his six fingers, and while he still wasn’t sure how he felt about this woman, he also didn’t want to risk spooking off a potential ally, assuming she was truthful about her intentions.

Apparently, he needed have worried. She gripped his hand and gave it a firm shake of her own (the woman had quite the grip). When she did look down at his hand, she didn’t skip a beat when she said: “Whoa, a six-finger handshake? It’s a full finger friendlier than normal.”

He sat there, stunned, as she pulled away and settled against a storage bin. “So, Stanford. Wanna trade cool outlaw stories while we wait to get to the next planet?” Her tone remained as light and casual as it’d been the entire time, as if Ford was an acquaintance she was taking the time to catch up with.

He laughed, something he hadn’t done in months. Mabel didn’t care. She didn’t say anything about him being a freak, despite clearly being from some version of Earth. She held no trace of malicious intent towards him at all.

Maybe, just maybe, this wouldn’t be a bad idea after all.