#ford free fire

[boydswan]

Absolutely free, so everyone can see.

Shia LaBeouf as Clodio Pulcher in MEGALOPOLIS (2024) dir. Francis Ford Coppola

[midnight--capricorn]

I will test out a silly art style by conjuring up one of the blorbos

he looks like a frog /pos

[babycharmander]

(BOOK OF BILL SPOILERS)

I just finished reading The Book of Bill and I am kindof losing my mind over some of this stuff.

I had wondered if Alex Hirsch might make Bill sympathetic in some way and oh boy I was not expecting him to do it so successfully (and without cheapening Bill's character).

So, we learn that Bill was born into a 2D world... as a mutant who can see into the third dimension. He claims he was absolutely loved by all, but when talking about his powers, he mentions under Pyrokinesis:

"Cipher, Cipher, he's insane / Starting fires with his brain." The kids in grade school could be so cruel. But where are they now, huh? WHERE ARE THEY NOW?

So probably not quite as liked as he was letting on. To add to that, there's the silly straw page, which looks like silly nonsense until you decipher some of the codes:

"EYE DOCTOR OF A DIFFERENT KIND / WHO WANTS TO MAKE HIS PATIENTS BLIND" "THE DOCTOR SAYS / THREE SIPS A DAY / WILL MAKE THE VISIONS / GO AWAY"

I wasn't sure what this meant until I saw someone point out... he was seeing a third dimension that no one else could see. His parents probably took him to the eye doctor to try to "fix" him. Which, speaking of his eye doctor, the coded message in the section about human eyeballs says something interesting:

"MY OPTOMETRIST NEVER SAW IT COMING"

It could be a joke given beforehand he's talking about dissecting a human eye, but given the previous hints of medical abuse, I wouldn't put it past him that he tried to get revenge on his eye doctor.

Oh yeah and the whole thing about him setting his entire dimension on fire? Yeah it turns out it was entirely a mistake (he just wanted everyone to understand the third dimension he was seeing so they could be free of only two dimensions), he was so traumatized by it he blacks out when trying to recall it. He deeply, deeply regrets it, and...

"What? Your ENTIRE home dimension? destroyed? How? By what?" Bill looked distant, more distant than I'd ever seen him. "By a monster."

He sees himself as a monster.

And yet, he's not some innocent, misunderstood being. He still revels in causing pain and chaos. He's terrible in general, but becomes incredibly abusive toward Ford.

"YOU'RE MY PROPERTY. DON'T FORGET IT. The hillbilly abandoned you, your father won't want you returning without millions, you have no friends, and if you died out here in the snow, who would even miss you?"

Which... speaking of him and Ford...

Yes, yes, I know people ship them. But like, whether you see their relationship as romantic or platonic (I see it as the latter), there's some interesting parallels to be made here.

Both Bill and Ford are mutants who were mocked for their being different. (Bill was not physically a mutant, as far as we know, but more in the sense of him having vision stronger than that of everyone else in his dimension, and also having special powers. And he does describe himself as a mutant.) Both became social outcasts, separated from their families but still haunted by them (Ford seeing commercials of Stan on TV and running across old photos of him and his brother, Bill being haunted by his family in some form). Neither could return home for one reason or another. Both more powerful than their peers (Ford intellectually, Bill in terms of actual powers). Both of them isolated and alone. (Yes, Bill does have the Henchmaniacs, but they seem like shallow friends, and only really seem to follow him out of a desire to have a place to party.)

Ford was not aware of most of this, aside from knowing that Bill could not go home because his dimension was destroyed. But Bill absolutely saw himself in Ford. There was no other person he tried to use whom he felt a stronger connection to.

And he actually seems to care about Ford--he actually gave him a birthday present, and when Ford didn't like it, he decided to get drunk and party with him instead to make up for it.

And then when Ford realizes what Bill's plan actually is and refuses to go along with it, and fights back no matter what Bill does, Bill completely breaks down.

After living for trillions of years, he met someone who was like him, and that person rejected him.

He goes berserk, wreaking havoc, being caught by the dimensional authority that he's been taunting for most of his life.

And then after dying and being cast out of hell for being too annoying, he winds up faced with the Axolotl, who sends him to therapy, where he continues to break down further, sending out the book in a desperate attempt to find someone, anyone who will help him break loose and wreak havoc once again.

"You have no friends, and if you died ... who would even miss you?"

I don't know, Bill. Who would even miss you?

In short,

[ID: The front and back of one of Bill's Valentines cards. On the front is a black void with Bill Cipher lying down without his hat, gazing blankly upwards, with the text "I DON'T WANT TO DIE ALONE" above him. On the back is a simple white "TO/FROM" in red, with a red outline illustration of Bill spontaneously growing a mouth and eating a realistic, bloody heart. /end ID]

[anistarrose]

I'd like to propose a dark horse candidate for the most interesting line in The Book of Bill. And it's this near-unreadable, seemingly one-off joke from the "Skin" page:

[ID: tiny text reading: "Help! This is not Bill Cipher. My name is Grebley Hemberdreck of Zimtrex 5. I'm one of thousands of beings Bill has devoured over trillions of years whose souls are now trapped inside him. You have to free me! It's horrible in here. He just keeps playing the song "Good Vibrations" by Marky Mark on an endless loop. Please, please, this is not a joke! The Zimtrexians were once a proud and mighty people, but now our spirits long for release from this..." End ID.]

Okay, so Bill devours souls who then live out a horrible existence inside him. That's just some typical and expected Bill behavior, right? Nothing to be shocked by? Maybe not, but one thing jumps out at me... and of all things, it's the way that Bill keeps playing that Beach Boys parody (correction provided by @fexalted: no, not in fact a Smiley Smile parody, but a real song!) on loop.

Because in The Book of Bill, there's a recurring motif of characters playing music for a very specific reason: to repel an unwanted presence inside their head. This is what Elias Inkwell, and later Ford, did with the "It's A Small World" parody — they tried to keep Bill out of their brains. Or, metaphorically... to drown out his voice.

[ID: a Journal 3 page with a cassette taped inside. It's titled: "The World Is Small Ever After for Always." Ford writes: "If it's war you want, it's war you'll get! If you want to torture me? I'll torture you back!" End ID.]

That doesn't necessarily mean that Bill finds the voices of devoured souls to be troubling, let alone downright haunting, does it? Well... not quite on its own. But there's a "color" code on the page about TV static that says a lot:

[ID: a code consisting of colorful squares, translated to letters that spell out: "he never sleeps he never dreams but somehow still he hears their screams." End ID] (screenshot courtesy of @fexiled)

The context of the page implies these "screams" come to Bill especially when he listens to TV static, and the broader context of the book implies that these are the screams of his destroyed home dimension, Euclydia. Therefore, not necessarily those of the souls he devoured, from Zimtrex 5 and possibly other dimensions.

Except... do those two things really have to be mutually exclusive?

The beings that Bill devoured were accumulated over "trillions" of years, plural, according to Grebley. In Weirdmageddon 1, Bill claims to have resided in the Nightmare Realm for precisely "one trillion" years. So the "devouring" habit probably extends back even further than his time in the Nightmare Realm...

Enter @acetyzias, pointing out a very conspicuous word — and one of the only uncensored words — from Bill's description of destroying his home dimension:

[ID: the word "mandibles". End ID.]

Oh, and how does Bill describe the "monster" that destroyed his home to Ford, when Ford asks about revenge?

[ID: Journal excerpt reading: "Sixer, it would eat you alive." End ID.]

For a long time, Bill's destruction of his home has been associated with fire, even when the story's told by Bill himself. But through the way the book characterizes Bill's guilt — and characterizes how the consequences of what he's done remain lurking deep inside him — I think The Book of Bill lays out the hints for another motif: devouring.

And, well, when it comes to how Bill destroys things... it wouldn't be without precedent.

[ID: screenshot of Bill in Weirdmageddon 3, taking a bite out of the Earth. End ID.]

[niiwa-angel]

I can't stop thinking about how Stan Pines, a man who was kicked out of his home at a young age by his abusive father, turned his own home into such a safe space for not just the twins, but his employees and the kids friends as well.

First of all, we know Wendy frequently slacks off on her shifts, she has her roof top hideaway but she also reads magazines and flat out refuses to do certain tasks. Like when Stan asked her to put up a sign and she just said she couldn't reach it, or telling Stan "absolutely not" when he asked her and Soos to clean the bathrooms. Not only could Stan fire her, he could take away her magazines or stop her from going on the roof. We see that Stan is more observant than he lets on, you're telling me he didn't notice her dragging a cooler and a lawn chair up there? And she's either bringing her own pop and ice to fill that cooler or she's taking his.

And then there's Soos, who Stan cares about so much he got himself on the no-fly list trying to get his birthday removed from calendars, just because it made him upset. We know Soos cares about the Mystery Shack, he feels comfortable there, and he respects and adores Stan. Soos also volunteered to DJ for free at Stans summer party.

We also frequently see Soos and Wendy hanging out with the twins, so either they're slacking off during working hours or they're coming over after their shifts just to hang out. In an after credits scene, we see Mabel and Dipper turn Soos into a disco ball and they're clearly in the residential part of the shack. So either Soos buggered off during working hours to hang out with the twins or he's off shift just chilling. Either way, Stan is fine with him being in the actual house part of the shack.

Wendy also helps Mabel try and make Stan more 'desirable' to Lazy Susan, which I'll get into later, but she's not working and she also in the house part of the shack. We also see Soos and Wendy watching television with Stan, Mabel, and Dipper during the Summerween episode. They aren't on shift! They're just chilling. Wendy hits Stan in the face with a water balloon while working as a lifeguard. She's comfortable teasing him.

Soos tags along with Stan, Dipper, and Mabel when they break into the golf course after hours. He brings his shirts to cut Ws into. He doesn't have to be there, he just is. Wendy goes hunting with Mabel and her friends for unicorns. Mabel wins a pig at the fair and Stan lets her keep it, the pig needs food, who do you think is footing that bill?

Now let's talk about friends. Mabel often has Candy and Grenda over, we know she has loud sleepover with them. Do you think Mabel would bring her friends over if she wasn't comfortable in the house? Do you think Candy and Grenda would keep coming over if they didn't feel safe? Not to mention, they literally ambush Stan in the bathroom and give him a make over. Which he allows, we see him fight off the undead, punch bald eagles, and catch the twins when they fell from the nose of that monument. The man is strong, he could get three preteen girls off him if he wanted to, he was 100% playing along.

Candy and Grenda also invite themselves along on their road trip. And Stan lets them come!! Mr cheap stake agrees to feed and care for two extra kids who aren't his family.

Dipper sneaks around trying to see his tattoo, he feels safe enough with Stan to push those boundaries. He literally pulled the Memory Gun on Ford during the basement scene, if he wasn't comfortable with Stan, he wouldn't try to get that close to him. He calls Stan when he and Mabel are trapped in a haunted convenience store (he doesn't answer but still, he called him).

Now let's talk about Gideon, because I will stand by the Stan had some fondness for the kid. We know Stan has been annoyed with Gideon for a while, we know Gideon has been gunning for Stan for a while. And Stan just... Keeps letting this happen. He never involves the police, he plays along with Gideons attempts, even when Gideon is laughing uncontrollably, Stan just assured him that "you'll get me one day kid". Even when Gideon climbs in THROUGH THE WINDOW all Stan does is aggressively sweep at his feet. Correct me if I'm wrong, but Stan never gets rough with Gideon.

I'm just, I'm weeping over the knowledge that Stan Pines, who wasn't safe in his own home, made his home a safe place for kids as an adult.

[spookierdeer]

OL EUA YUGQ G XGOYOT OT MXGVK PAOIK, OZ ZAXTY OTZU G MXGVK. NGVVE NGRRUCKKT! 🎃⚠️

(costume talk and yapping under the cut)

starting from back to the front:

stan and ford are handing out candy this year, stan dressed in his vampire costume and planning to scare kids and ford is wearing a mabel (turtleneck!) pumpkin sweater, about as festive as he's willing to dress up this year. ford was originally planning to hole himself up in his lab and work on data analysis or whatever nerd shit he has going on but stan invites him to help scare the hell out of kids. ford declines initially, better things to do, but after checking to see how stan's doing (badly), ford decides to help by bursting out of the bushes with a glowing laser gun, face cloaked in shadow. it's more fun than he expects or admits and he eventually fully joins stan.

soos and melody are trick or treating in a couple costume, soos as zelda and melody as link. melody wanted to cosplay link for awhile and you cannot convince me soos wouldn't jump at the chance to dress up as a badass anime elf princess who can fire lasers.

mabel, pacifica, and waddles are dressed as utena, anthy, and chu chu respectively. i have a headcanon that post working at the diner and slowly getting used to normal kid things, pacifica discovers anime. specifically shojo princess anime. she finds utena and loses her mind over it in private, with mabel eventually breaking down her walls and getting her to admit to the sin of liking anime. mabel gets pacifica to show her her favorites and mabel immediately insists they need to cosplay as utena and anthy for halloween, pacifica is a princess after all! (said in jest, but baby gay panic ensues on pacifica's end. mabel is pretty oblivious to her plight and doesn't realize why being pacifica's knight makes her feel so giddy until later on.)

dipper sees pacifica joining mabel as an excuse to flake out on trick or treating without being a total jerk, especially since they'll be joined by candy and grenda later. i know he's working on not trying to grow up too fast by the end of the series, but kids and teens are full of anxiety and doubts and i figure he would be pretty awkward about a lot of things still, even after learning otherwise. wirt doesn't want to dress up since the previous halloween ended with him in the unknown then waking up in the hospital, but greg still wants to go trick or treating. dipper tags along to help babysit greg despite it not really being necessary, wirt's just glad to have someone to chat with while he takes greg, especially someone who doesn't leap to finding him strange. greg is going as a ghost elephant and wirt assumes it's just the weird kid tradition of layering costumes over the years, but greg's logic is that he "died" as an elephant last year so now the elephant is a ghost. if wirt heard this he would probably end up freaked out, but kids are often more aware of things than expected. dipper is wearing wendy's hat since she traded with him at the end of the series.

putting wirt and greg in there could feel a little random, but these are my two favorite shows to watch during autumn and i associate them with each other. plus, it's otgw's ten year anniversary and it's so perfectly halloween, i think it makes enough sense to put them together. idk i love joy and whimsy, i am cringe and i am free.

i initally wanted to include other characters, candy, grenda, and wendy for sure but i was also considering coraline, wybie, and norman. felt way too complicated so maybe i'll draw something with those characters some other time.

[darlingdaisyfarm]

This honestly might be a downer or stupid, but I just got fired and I am having a really hard time. I just want to bury my head in Stan's chest and sob. I was wondering if you could write how the Stan and Ford might react to the reader being suddenly fired and maybe how they'd comfort them? I'm also really excited for the next chapter of your fic!

✧˚⋆ Stan & Ford supporting you when you need it most ⋆｡♡˚

oh sweetheart, im so sorry ur going through this, holy shit. just the moment i received this ask, i knew i had to write smth when ill get free time today, because i feel so sorry for you. i hope these two old men gave u even a tiny bit of comfort, please be kind to urself right now, youre gonna get through this, i promise. sending u all my love !! stay strong please 🫂🫂

STANLEY

the thing about Stan is that he gets it. he gets the feeling of being chewed up and spat out, of having doors slam in your face, of working your ass off and still being told you’re not enough. he gets the quiet humiliation, the bitterness in the back of your throat, the way your hands shake when you try to act like it doesn’t matterm

you don’t even remember how you got here. your feet must’ve carried you through the streets, past strangers whose lives weren’t just ruined, past cars honking, past buildings that still stood while the whole world inside you had collapsed.

“hey, hey. what the hell, sweetheart, breathe, alright? you’re okay, you’re right here.” his rough but worried voice reaches you when you slam mystery shack's door open, standing in the doorway with shaking hands, red-eyed.

“i got fired, Stan. j-just gone, outta nowhere. i don’t know what to do, Stan, im so lost.” your throat burns

before you can say anything else, he's opening his arms. “c'mere.” and you don't even hesitate as you crash into him like a wave, burying your face in his chest. and he holds you, one big arm wrapping around your back, the other hand coming up to cradle the back of your head

“there we go. you don’t gotta keep it all in, sweetheart.” the words hit you harder than you expect. you're so used to holding it together, to swallowing everything down, to being strong. and Stan, who’s built himself up from nothing, who’s taken every punch life threw at him and still kept standing, he’s telling you it’s okay to break.

so you do. you bury your face in his chest and cry until you’re dizzy, until your breath stutters and shakes, until all the anger and hurt and fear bleed out of you. Stanley doesn’t rush you or tell you to stop. “let it out, sweetie, s’gonna be okay.” he holds you close tightly because he’s spent his whole life holding people who needed it more than he did.

“it’s not fair,” you gasp, clutching on his clothes.

“no, it ain’t.”

“i worked so hard.”

“i know.”

“i feel like—like nothing i do is enough—”

Stan tightens his hold, pressing his chin to the top of your head. “hey. you listen to me.” his voice turns serious. “some suit in an office makin’ a crap decision got nothing to do with who you are. they're dumb. absolute morons for lettin’ you go. betcha the whole place is gonna fall apart without you because you were the best thing about that shithole. if they couldn’t see that, then screw ‘em. they lost you. not the other way around.”

you shake your head, clenching your fists. “but—“

“no buts,” he growls and then, softer: “you're not trash just ‘cause some idiots don’t know how to treat their workers. you're not worthless just ‘cause some suits decided you were expendable. you are not nothing.”

Stan pulls back to tip your chin up, making sure you’re listening. his thumb wipes a tear off your cheek. “i mean, you still got me, sweetheart. ain’t no job in the world that could change that.” he smiles genuinely at you.

you close your eyes, giving him a tiny sad smile back. you let yourself breathe, let yourself believe it, hiding your face in his chest again. Stan's grip stays strong and unshaking, shielding you from the whole world as you cry until you’re too tired, so all what you do is sob into his chest. you’re just leaning into him, exhausted, letting him hold you up.

Stan sighs, resting his cheek against your hair. “ya ever heard the story of the biggest screw-up in New Jersey?”

you sniffle. “what?”

”lemme tell ya, kid grows up in a house that don’t want him. gets kicked out. loses every job he ever had. ends up in a broken-down shack in the middle of nowhere. total loser.”

you shift against him. “Stan—“

“but he keeps goin’. and somehow, somehow, that dumbass loser ends up with people who love him. ends up holdin’ someone who needs it. ends up tellin’ the best damn person he’s ever met that they’re gonna be okay.”

he lets you lean into him again, lets you breathe him in, lets you stay as long as you need. tells you stories about all the bosses he’s scammed just to make you laugh.

at some point, when the tears have slowed and the weight in your chest isn’t crushing anymore, Stan ruffles your hair and leans back, arms crossed.

“y’know, i could use an extra set of hands around the shack.“

you blink up at him, sniffing. “what? you. . .you want me to work here?”

“yeah, id rather have someone i actually like workin’ here instead of hiring some random kid who’s just gonna rob me blind.” his usual gruff tone is back, but his gaze is what speaks louder, soft and certain, making it obvious that you belong here.

you open your mouth, but he cuts in, pointing a finger at you. “and before ya say some crap about not bein’ good enough or whatever, shut up. i’m the boss, i decide who’s good enough, and i say it’s you.”

you let out a shaky laugh, wiping your nose. “wow, such a heartfelt offer.”

he smirks. “hey, that’s as heartfelt as it gets, sweetheart. but seriously. think about it, okay? i got a spot for ya.” Stanley is not just offering a job for you, he’s offering a place, a place where you’re wanted, where you’re needed, where you don’t have to prove yourself to anyone.

you take a deep breath, feeling lighter for the first time all day. “yeah. yeah, i’ll think about it.”

“good,” Stan smiles and ruffles your hair again. “now, wanna eat somethin’? watch a dumb movie? beat me at cards? or you want me to egg their car?” about the last thing, he's joking, probably. but if you say yes, you know he’ll do it.

STANFORD

Ford finds you sitting at the kitchen table, arms crossed on the surface, face buried in them. you haven’t moved and spoken in a while, just sat there, motionless, like a puppet with the strings cut.

he clears his throat, stepping closer. “i, ah. noticed you didn’t come in for dinner.”

you don’t respond. his brows knit together, concern creasing his forehead. he takes the seat across from you, folding his hands on the table. “would you like to talk about it?”

for a moment, nothing. then, muffled: “i got fired.” slips from your mouth. so that's what happened. Ford doesn’t say oh. doesn’t say im sorry. doesn’t say what happened? he understands you because Ford Pines knows what it is to be discarded. he knows what it is to dedicate yourself to something, only to be told you are wrong. to be shoved out, unmoored, drifting in the space between who you thought you were and who they’ve decided you are now.

he knows what it is to look down at his hands and wonder if they are still meant to build something. after being betrayed.

he frowns thoughtfully. “that was. . . rather sudden, wasn’t it?”

you nod weakly. Ford exhales through his nose, gaze sharpening, analyzing. you. your sadness. the whole situation.

“it must feel unfair.“ he doesn’t just acknowledge the loss, but the injustice of it. and it makes your throat close up.

you lift your head slightly, looking at his face. “it- it is. i tried so hard. i put so much effort into that stupid job, and now it’s just—just gone.”

Ford hums. “tell me something.” he leans forward, putting elbows on the table. “do you think your value was in the work you did?”

you blink at him, but he doesn't even let you answer. “because if that were the case, then the moment you lost that job, you would have lost all worth as a person. but that’s not true, is it?” his voice is always so calm, full of absolute certainty.

you shake your head slowly, unsurely and Ford nods, satisfied. then, after a brief pause, he stands. “wait here” you don’t have the energy to question him. you just sit, staring blankly at the tabletop, until he returns a moment later with a notebook and pen.

he places them in front of you.

you glance up, confused. “what’s this for?”

Ford takes his seat again, tapping a finger against the cover. “do me a favor, darling. write down five things about yourself that have nothing to do with your job.”

your face looks tired and skeptical. you stare at the paper. “Ford, i—“

“anything,” he says softly, smiling at you. “everything. what you love. what you’re good at. what excites you, what makes you feel something. what matters to you.”

your fingers tighten around the pen. at first, you don’t know where to start. but Ford doesn’t rush you, just patiently sits beside you.

so you write. you write about the things that make you you. and at first, it feels stupid and awkward. it starts small, your favorite books, your favorite songs, the way you love thunderstorms, the way you always make extra coffee just in case someone else wants some.

but then it gets bigger. the things you’ve created. the things you’ve learned. the times you were kind when no one was looking. the people who love you, who see you. the way you keep going, even when it’s hard

Ford watches as you write, nodding approvingly at each entry.

“now tell me: did losing your job take any of that away?”

you stare at the words. the little pieces of yourself you hadn’t even thought about in the wake of everything. softly, you shake your head

Ford’s expression gentles. “then you’re still you. and you’re still worth just as much as you were yesterday. because no job, no institution, no single event defines you.” you swallow hard. Fords voice drops lower. “you are more than what you do, more than what you produce, more than what some company decides you’re worth. you are your thoughts. your curiosity. your kindness.” he gestures to the list. “you are all of this and nothing can take that from you.”

your breath wobbles. Ford’s gaze softens further. “come here, sweetheart.“ you hesitate but only for a second, then stand and he meets you halfway, arms wrapping around you. and Ford isn’t Stanley, isn’t someone used to giving big, open, thoughtless affection. but what he lacks in ease, he makes up for in intent.

because he means this. his big hand moves up and down your back slowly. “you’re not alone in this,” he murmurs into your hair. “we’ll figure something out. and until then. . . you are still extraordinary.“ his voice is so certain, and suddenly you don’t feel quite as lost.

“th-thank you” you bury your face in his sweater, hands gripping his sleeves

“and don’t let anyone ever tell you you aren’t smart or brave or worthy enough.”

you stay there a while. until Ford gives your shoulder one last squeeze and pulls back, adjusting his glasses. “now. i assume you haven’t eaten?”

you smile at him, shaking your head. “no, wasn't in the mood.“

“come, sweetheart, let’s fix that.”

[qkmlh]

Since we’re here now’s a great time to recommend one of my fav Symbrock fics ever:

Free From Fire by Jedtree on AO3

Summary: Eddie chooses to pursue a story that puts them in life-threatening danger. To save Venom from his own inevitable demise, he finds a way to force the symbiote into a new host. Someone better, more fitting, more worthy. Venom is pissed.

Update!! Now adding recs I’ve received (all ao3)!!

@mintaikk Rec:

that blessed arrangement by pepperfield

Summary: That’s us, Eddie, Venom says suddenly, with a bizarre amount of intensity. We’re like these two fools. Eddie squints at the screen for a second before he understands. “What, married?”

@apri1misc Recs:

you’re my cherry pie by novembersmith

Summary: The first time Eddie suggests they have sex, Venom is, more than anything else, extremely confused.

Who You Really Are by MortemRequiem

Summary: Venom thought that Eddie was an Alpha when he took over his body -- he was very, very wrong. -- In which the author is a broke bitch, but she can write fics for Birthday Presents <3 Basically a movie rewrite in the ABO universe.

How to take care of your Human by Darke_Eco_Freak

Summary: An ongoing study by the Venom Symbiote, consisting of helping your human be less of a pussy, reminding him to eat and sleep, helping him socialise, and making a Hero.

it’s called love by yellow_crayon

Summary: Eddie Brock is strong, yes, he’s willing to admit that. But aesthetically speaking, Brock is no where near the quality of Riot’s host. It’s like comparing an old Ford pickup to a million-dollar Maserati. (Riot catches feelings. Things take a weird turn when he forces Eddie and Venom to help.)

About Free From Fire:

DEF ONE OF MY TOP SYMBROCK FICS EVER THE PROTECTIVE POSSESSIVE AND OBSESSIVE STALKER VENOM IS SO SO SO GOOD!!! And Eddie is a self sacrificing fool who DOES NOT do well without him but is definitely trying his damnest to protect Venom back. They deserve each other <3

Please share recs, y’all!! I’d love to know what some people’s faves are!! (*^▽^*)🖤

[bell4donn4]

Getaway truck | a western road trip with Luke Castellan

Tags: established relationship,Luke and reader are basically the mom and dad of chb, reader’s godly parent is not specified.

Author’s note: tbh I’ve been lowkey obsessed w western Americana and road trips. I wanted this to be longer but whatever

The humid wind coming from the rolled down window gently messed up your hair.

You sat quietly on the passenger seat of the washed out green truck you and Luke rented. It must have been a Ford 1967, or some other kind of vintage model.

You couldn’t tell, and honestly, you didn’t bother to anyways, too busy looking out of the window admiring the desertic surroundings; sipping on your drugstore coca-cola.

<<you smudged your lipstick>> he glanced at you, taking his eyes off the road to send you a lopsided smile. One of his big and rough hands rested on your bare thigh, exposed by your jeans shorts.

It was mid summer, almost autumn time, yet the western country side never failed to drain you out with its scorching weather.

<<did I?>> you pulled down the visor, inspecting yourself in the small mirror; but you could tell he was right by the red stain on the metal can.

<<oh yeah, I did>>

Luke laughed lowly while he took a turn to the left, hand strong and firm on the steering wheel. You admired him in silence, a sort of pride filling your ego as you looked at your boyfriend.

That day, he wore a white linen shirt, which he (purposely) left unbuttoned on the chest, making his Hermes dog-tag visible. A pair of sunglass used to sit in the bridge of his nose, but were now long forgotten on the dashboard. It felt weird to see him without the bright orange shirt.

This little getaway from camp was going more than lovely. Finally free from all the responsibilities you both had to take on. You couldn’t even imagine how the camp must have looked like in that moment, with both of the two head counsolers gone.

<<do you think they set the cabins on fire?>>

<<for how long have we been away?>> Luke said

<< half a day?>> you nodded

<<yeah then, the woods are probably already burning as well. Along with the cabins and all>>

he hummed in approval at his own answer, earning a giggle from you.

He caressed your thigh with his thumb.

<<im joking, I’m sure the kids will be alright>>

<<you sound like an old dad>>

He shrugged his shoulders, grinning; but just as it started, the conversation slowly died down.

In the background of your comfortable silence, a low melody coming from the radio filled your ear.

With Luke, you didn’t need to talk. No many words need to be spoken with a man like him. You have been together enough to understand each other in silence. Plus— that should’ve been a sort of vacation from the chaos of camp.

So you preferred not to add anything else, simply allowing the worries to occupy the back of your mind.

You turned the music up as Molly Parton started playing.

You enjoyed the song, humming along the robotic notes coming from the radio.

Fortunately, by the time you arrived at your destination— a lake far far away from the one you had to see everyday— the worries were all gone. Replaced by that fuzzy feeling that only being with Luke could give you.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Called to Duty 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, pregnancy, abandonment, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Captain Syverson

Summary: You struggle to move on from the biggest mistake of your life but find it hard to forget among the whispers of a small town.

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You rub your lower back as you enter the bakery. You focus on the simple task; just a loaf of bread. You have a weak spot for the sourdough there. Just thinking about it, you could salivate.

You wait behind another customer. You think she works at the bank but you’ve never been very good with faces, even in a small town like Hammer Ford. Others don’t seem to have that issue as your name easily rolls off their tongues. The whispers are getting louder now that you can’t hide as easily.

The bank clerk sidles along the counter and glances over her shoulder as you shuffle forward. She sends you a judgmental look but you reserve any of the same. Everyone knows she’s sneaking around with the manager down at her branch.

You tug your shirt down as it threatens to ride further up your stomach. Everything’s too tight these days. Everything’s uncomfortable. Your fingers linger on the hem, touching the taught flesh beneath. Four months now.

“Hi,” you greet the woman behind the till, “can I get a loaf of the sourdough. I’ll take the day old for the discount if you got it.”

She smiles brightly and repeats your order, asking if there’s anything else. You say no. You budgeted for the bread, even a tea would put you too close to the line. She grabs you a loaf and she keys in the day-old discount.

You pay as she slips the wrapped loaf into a paper bag. Before you can turn away, she stops you, “have a cookie,” she points to the plate of shortbread beside the small specials sign. “They’re not moving.”

“I can’t,” you argue.

“You’re doing me a favour. I don’t like to throw them away,” she insists.

You smile sheepishly and take a cookie, hugging the bag above your stomach as you turn and nibble on the cookie. You cross to the door, juggling your armload as you open it, and leaving without a look back. You hear your name again before the door closes.

Who’s the father…

That’s the big question. You’re not married, not dating, so who could it be? The same question got you kicked out of your mother’s house. The pharmacy let you the dingy bachelor above as you spend your days working a till at the front.

You won’t say it, even to dispel the murmurs. You know it wouldn’t solve anything, only add fuel to the fire. ‘She should’ve known better. The golden prince of Hammer Ford is a known playboy. Why wouldn’t she be safe? Why wouldn’t she be responsible?’ They wouldn’t ask the same of him.

As you turn onto the street, your arm hits someone else and you drop the cookie. It cracks on the pavement and you look down, leaning forward to see the ruins. You deflate. Oh well, it was free, after all.

“Sorry,” a voice draws your attention from the spoiled shortbread. You look up at the man. You know him, you think. Again, you’re no good with faces.

He runs his hand over his shaved head then drags it around his beard, “I’ll get you another.”

“No, you don’t have to,” you wave him off, “I should go…”

“Miss, it’s the right thing to do,” he insists.

“Really, it’s okay,” you assure him, “I should’ve looked where I was going.”

“Me too,” he agrees. 

You tilt your head and push a shoulder up, “well, have a good one.”

You turn to cross the road, looking both ways. As you step down from the curb, the man does the same. Why can’t you remember his name? You swear you ran into him before. Down at The Horn with… him.

He walks parallel to you as you cross the street. You stop and look at him, confused.

“Just seeing you across, miss.”

“Uh, thanks, that’s very nice but you don’t have to do that,” you chuckle nervously.

“I know. Just what I’m trained to do.”

You remember, he’s a soldier. Yeah, Thor mentioned that. Just thinking his name stings.

“Right, well, thanks, I appreciate that,” you put your hand on your stomach and haul the bag higher, turning toward the pharmacy just a shop down.

You hear him follow you again. It makes you nervous. Is he going to the pharmacy? It could be a coincidence, it’s a small town. Still, it’s very odd.

You go to the door just past the store entrance and take out your key. He comes right up and watches you, looming strangely at your shoulder. You hold onto your key and face him.

“You’re pregnant,” he says as if you don’t know.

“Uh, yeah,” you nearly laugh, “I am.”

“Shouldn’t be carrying all that,” he says.

“Just bread,” you answer.

“That father should be getting you bread,” he argues.

You’re put off by his demeanour. He speaks as if he’s giving orders to the world around him. You guess that’s just his nature.

“He won’t be doing that,” you shake your head. “I’m fine, really.”

“You don’t remember me,” he adds, “I remember you. You were dancing and drinking.” He looks again at your stomach. You put your hand over it defensively.

“I wasn’t like this then.”

“You weren’t,” he frowns then points to your finger, “no ring?”

This is awkward. Where everyone else in Hammer Ford is happy to whisper behind their hands, he’s interrogating you in the street. You shake your head and look down.

“Must not be a real man who did that,” he comments, “I’m Sy, just to remind you.”

“Sy,” you sniff, “right, I–”

He says your name first, “I remember.” He taps his temple, “I won’t forget.”

You swallow and the bag crinkles against your chest, “I’m… gonna go, uh, Sy, my feet hurt.”

“Be safe,” he commands.

“Thanks,” you utter awkwardly and stick your key in the slot. He stands staunchly as he is and as you pull the door open, he reaches to open it all the way and holds it, “got it.”

You keep the fragile smile on your lips and bow inside. He lets it close slowly and you pause to make sure he’s on the other side. You twist the lock into place and recoil. That was very weird.

[tinfoil-jones]

How did the mayor elections go in the Jerk Ford universe? Cause Stanley would have no reason to run for mayor, and even if he did, the twins wouldn't have to help him

Some of the Stanchurian Candidate was handled Here.

The reason Stanley was running for Mayor was at the behest of the younger Mystery Twins, because Mabel and Dipper knew that Gideon was gunning for the position via his dad, and there was no way they'd let the town be under Gideon's control.

Gideon has even more disdain against the whole Pines family due to Stan confiscating his amulet, Dipper beating him up, and what Jerk Ford did to his family.

Stan may still be well-liked by the community, but some of the townsfolk have recently soured their opinion of him because even if they don't know how he did it, he must be the reason Jerk Ford is back because no one else would ever even think about trying to bring him back.

@aroace-get-out-of-my-face suggested way back in the OG post that part of Stan's canpaign would be "I will make sure my brother goes into town less."

While Stan does agree to run for mayor, he refuses to make that a part of his campaign.  So the kids have to be creative.

In one of the Journals, Jerk Ford had written about an invention called "The Free Will Tie", and how it "protected the wearer against brainwashing, possession, suggestions, and political cartoons". Dipper had gotten better at deciphering Ford's trolling and deduced that it must do the opposite and mind control the wearer instead.

They ask Jerk Ford for the tie and he vehemently refuses, saying something along the lines of his tech didn't need grubby little fingers messing with it. So they wait for him to fall asleep in the living room (Jerk Ford didn't sleep in the basment or his old bedroom, because "he didn't like sleeping anywhere that didn't have multiple exits") and once he's asleep they sneak into his lab and steal the mind control tie.

Things go pretty similarly to how it does in canon, with Gideon controlling his father via possession spell, the only difference is he's doing this from a safe distance away in the woods and not from jail, since he didn't go to jail in this.

Things go awry as they did in canon when the dynamite is set off on the monunent with the twins on it- Stan initially tries to save them like he did in canon, except this time he's unable to because Soos pushes him to the ground and beats him with a shovel because the sparks had set him on fire.

So the twins do fall from the manuments nose, with the ropes untying them from the chairs some point before the fall. Without her grappling hook, Mabel can only cling onto Dipper as they descend to their untimely deaths.

There's bone cracking sounds - but not from her or Dipper. Someone caught them before they could hit the ground and to their shock it was Grunkle Stan's brother.

He looks at them both quickly - checking to see if they're okay?? - before carefully setting them both down. One of his arms is at a weird angle it isn't supposed to be at, and there's a little bit of blood coming out of the corner of his mouth so he must have an internal injury, but neither of those things are what's disturbing about Jerk Ford right now.

He's completely silent. He says nothing - he's always got a rude remark or witty remark that is also rude ready. But not now. Now he's just stalking towards the stage, and every person he passes also suddenly goes quiet.

Dipper is also at a loss for words, clinging back to Mabel as she still is to him, he had seen Jerk Ford sprint out of the treeline. He'd heard from his stories that he was more of a runner, but he didn't know a man his age could run that fast. Wendy runs out of the crowd to go check on the twins.

At this point Soos had managed to take out the fire on Stan, and was helping him back up, Jerk Ford doesn't stop his stride but he does at least glance over at his brother and nephew, confirming by sight that they're both okay.

Stan's trying to say something to his brother but he's coughing too much to form words and Soos is desperately trying to keep him from making any sudden moves, he seems to be trying to break away for some reason.

Everyone's silent in the crowd as Jerk Ford stops right in front of Bud's podium.

Then in a flash he leaps right over it at Gleeful and starts beating the dog sh*t out of him. Bud doesn't stand a chance.

Take in mind, this is Bud's size in comparison to Stan in canon:

Also take in mind, Jerk Ford is scrawny compared to his canon self. And in fact, according to the AUs artist @tearosepedall, Jerk Ford is also slightly shorter than his canon counterpart.

So everyone just watches in horror as an old man with a broken arm and multiple broken ribs savagely beats a younger guy three times his size like he owes him money, and is showing no signs of slowing down, stopping, or mercy.

Wendy is compelled to cover the twins' eyes because not only is the beating that bad, but none of them knew Jerk Ford could be scary, isn't he supposed to be just some nuisance? Nuisances are supposed to be harmless! And he said he prefers elusion over fighting.

Dipper gets a cold, sinking revelation that Jerk Ford could have easily snapped him in half any of the times Dipper has hit or tried to hit him with a blunt object.

Bud gets into pretty bad shape at the assault, which doesn't stop until Gideon also runs out of the treeline crying and begging Jerk Ford to please don't kill his dad it wasn't his fault he'll leave his family alone just please stop.

Gideons bellowing causes a chain reaction of Jerk Ford halting his beat down, Stan finally breaking free from Soos' hold and running over to pull his brother off of Gleeful, and Wendy with the twins in tow also running towards the stage.

Whatever Stan did or said to Jerk Ford must have flipped a switch because as Wendy, Dipper, and Mabel are on the stage with the rest of the mystery crew, Jerk Ford is back to his normal self, because he makes a grumpy remark about how the kids "fell on him because he just happened to be standing there".

Now everyone votes for Stan because they're too scared of what Jerk Ford will do them if they don't, and Stan wins the election (also Bud Gleeful gets picked up by an ambulance), however Stan ends up turning down the position of mayor to Tyler Cutebiker, the last remaining candidate, citing that he's realized he needs to focus more on his family.

They go home and Jerk Ford takes some kind of weird medicine out of his bag and injects himself with it - he explains to Stanley that it's something that can heal bone breaks in the span of a few minutes (Broken Bone Serum), but the kids didn't hear this because as soon as he's healed, Mabel runs in with stickers, gauze, glitter glue, and ace wrap demanding to cast Jerk Ford's arm.

Jerk Ford lets her do so but he complains the whole time, which doesn't dampen her spirits in the slightest.

What does dampen her spirits however is that when Stan caught on fire it burnt off a bunch of his hair so now he has short hair and a more disturbing resemblance to his 'bad' twin (something that irks Dipper). Mabel is so sad because she can't braid Stan's hair anymore! Who else is she going to braid train with in this house? (It might not be spotted initially but in the artists design for Stan he has long hair that he pulls into a ponytail or a braid)

[lackinggravitas]

god, this got... long. nearly 6k words long. not sure how that happened, lmao.

i’ve been overthinking this chapter for too long, sitting on it too long. been busy, graduating in a week. im writing this note at like... midnight. sorry if i'm incoherent. anyways. this fic is fun to write. next chapter won't be nearly this long. uh. yep. i think thats it. enjoyyy

ao3 vers

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 (you are here!) / part 7 (eventually)

Ford was off like a shot as soon as the sounds erupted, and Fiddleford was helpless to do anything except follow, stumbling after him through his patterned maze of hallways. Gizmos and gadgets were strewn about on seemingly every floor in every room, with enough paper to set a forest on fire littered about everywhere too. 

There was a raucous cacophony of barking and what sounded like shrill screaming echoing off the maze of Ford’s cabin, rattling through the quaint halls and setting Fiddleford’s hair on edge and his heart thumping like a rabbit’s in his chest. 

Lordy, first Stanley and now this? Fiddleford thought, flabbergasted,  as he followed Ford down another turn. Is this place some sorta weirdness magnet?

Ford awkwardly clambered over what looked to be some sort of complicated, hodge-podged machine that not even Fiddleford could parse the design of, that had fallen in the hallway. The way he swung over it without missing a beat, clearly not surprised at all to see it there, spoke volumes. Namely, that Ford hadn’t gotten any better about keeping tidy since their shared dorm room in college. 

Only Stanford could get himself into a situation like this, Fiddleford thought, following after him as quick as he could, scrambling over the machine. With a laboratory in the woods, living with his feral brother that he refuses to admit is his brother. Fer’ some reason. 

They drew closer and closer to the noises, until suddenly Ford turned a corner and- oh. 

Remus- Stanley- their new friend was hunched on the floor, still on all fours (did he know how to walk? The thought made Fiddleford’s heart stir uncomfortably in his chest)- and presently busying himself with shaking something around in his mouth, not unlike how a dog might a toy. The motion was all a blur - Fiddleford couldn’t even see what he was holding. 

Then he realized the shrill noise was coming from the creature in Stanley’s mouth.

“Good Lord in Heaven!” Fiddleford yelped, not sure whether to jump in or run the opposite direction and settled to just tug anxiously at his hair instead. “Just what in tarnation is goin’ on in here?!”

There was a dash of blood on the linoleum, the jagged shards of a smashed ceramic laying in pieces on the ground. The mere sight of blood alone sent Fiddleford’s pulse skyrocketing, but then he finally caught sight of what Stanley - definitely not ‘Remus’, Lord knows he shouldn’t be playin’ into Stanford’s delusions - actually had in his mouth, and really it was a wonder Fiddleford’s heart hadn’t given out on him yet.

There was a small man between Stanley’s jaws, screaming and flailing one of his arms angrily. He seemed too big to actually fit in Stanley’s mouth - Stanley had to awkwardly bite into his side, holding him by grip strength mostly, as the other half dangled like a too-big fish.

This didn’t seem to be too much of a setback for Stanley though, as he shook the small man vigorously, like he was trying to shake the living daylights out of him.

“Gavin!” another shrill voice yelled in distress, and Fiddleford turned to see - oh sweet baby Jesus, there’s two of ‘em.

There was another little man in a pointy red hat like a garden gnome, this one wielding a fork like a weapon that he didn’t know how to use. He looked shaky and overwhelmed and, frankly, Fiddleford could relate.

“Harry!” The gnome-like little bugger apparently named Gavin, currently being shaken out of his wits in Stanley’s mouth, swung his free arm at his companion, yelling at him, “Harry, you useless idiot, do something!”

Harry shook like a leaf, taking a swing with his fork at Stanley. It was a weak hit - it didn’t even connect. “B-back! Unhand him, foul demon!”

“Would you quit dicking around?!” Gavin shrilled, flailing his free arm in blind panic and rage, eyes wild. “I don’t want to die here, you- you-!”

Predictably, Ford got his wits about him and bearings back much faster than Fiddleford - he sprung forward, jumping into the scene with a recklessness that made Fiddleford yelp. “Remus!” Ford yelled, more disapproving than angry, “Let go of him!”

His hands snapped around the other half of Gavin, grabbing him and trying to pull him out of Stanley’s mouth. This only made Stanley growl louder and bite down harder, and Fiddleford could see tiny pricks of blood bubbling up from where Stanley’s teeth sank into the gnome. Gavin only got louder, cursing cracking up an octave. 

“You can’t eat gnomes!” Ford tried, yanking the gnome - and Stanley along with it - closer to himself. “They’ve been vital to my research so far, you can’t just-!”

“What on earth am I even looking at here?” Fiddleford’s hands were in his own hair again and pulling anxiously without even having to think about it, eyes ping-ponging wildly across the room. The gnomes (honest to God, actual, living gnomes), Ford, and Stanley. He felt faint. 

Stanley growled loudly, biting down and pulling back, shaking his head like he was trying to dislodge Ford’s grip. 

They’re playing tug-a-war with a gnome, Fiddleford thought hysterically. 

“LIBERTY OR DEATH!” Harry cried suddenly, charging forward with his fork extended out like a short sword, going right for Stanley.

Like a cavaliering knight, he struck right in the arm, slamming into Stanley and wrenching the prongs of the fork into him. Stanley dropped Gavin immediately, almost instinctively, letting a sharp yip of surprise and springing away from the attack - but the fork was already stuck deep into his forearm.

Fiddleford felt nauseous just looking at the blunt, inflexible hand of the fork stabbed into Stanley’s arm like a spear. He felt even sicker when Stanley looked down at it, whined, and then promptly closed his teeth around the handle and yanked it out. 

Fiddleford wasn’t sure if he was going to faint or throw up. He felt very lightheaded. 

Without Stanley to balance him, Ford went toppling over almost comically, rear hitting the floor with a thump, still gripping the wiggling gnome tightly. Expression almost dazed with confusion, he looked over at Stanley perplexedly, like he didn’t understand why he let go. Then his gaze snagged on the bloodied metal prongs of the fork Stanley held between his teeth, and his eyes widened.

“You-” Ford looked down at the gnomes, at Stanley, back and forth again. Eyes wide, incredulous and surprised. “This is utterly preposterous. What on earth is going on?”

“Your naked brother is a monster, man!” Harry said (a gnome. A talking gnome. Fiddleford was looking at a talking gnome). He scurried over to Ford’s side. “A monster!”

“He’s not my-”

“All we wanted was to go through your pantry and take all your sugar packets and jams,” Gavin hissed, weird little voice laced with pain and bubbling with anger. “And this guy just flew at us!”

Ford looked down at Gavin like he was surprised to find him still in his hands. He quickly set him down next to Harry, who scurried over to his fellow gnome’s side and helped him up, a supportive arm wrapping around Gavin’s shoulders, despite his grumbling protests. 

“Not even a ‘hello, how do you do’!” Harry added as guided Gavin’s arm to rest around his shoulders. “He just went crazy, barking and everything, and when Gavin tried to att- negotiate, your friend over here lunged at him and started shaking him like a frisbee!”

“Not. Cool.” Gavin said thinly, face pursed with pain.

“Not cool at all,” Harry agreed vehemently. “Why do you have this freak around?”

Stanley growled loudly, both in warning and, seemingly, in unhappiness. He looked like he wanted to lunge at them again, but with his eyes flicking to Ford and Stanley himself heavily favoring his weight on one arm, he didn’t seem like he was about to make any sudden moves. He still glowered at the gnomes, not letting up his growling, but he didn’t move either. 

Fiddleford looked up at Ford to see Ford’s eyes also examining Stanley, thoughtful. After a moment he huffed, turning back to the gnomes. “Right. Well, I’m sure he just thought he was defending our, ah, territory, so to speak. He doesn’t exactly understand speech.”

“Yeah, we gathered that,” Gavin grouched. “He’s like a dumb animal. Did he get dropped on his head or something?”

Ford’s expression pinched. “Remains to be seen,” he said awkwardly.

How old was he when they lost him again? Fiddleford thought, racking his mind for the late night whispers and drunken mumblings Ford had traded with him in pieces, years and years ago. ‘bout five, wasn’t he?

…sweet Lord, Fiddleford thought suddenly, with a sickening, plunging feeling. He was Tater’s age. 

“You watch what you say,” Fiddleford blurted out heatedly, words cutting sharply through the air before he could even realize he was saying them. He continued, “He’s had a rough go of things. Ain’t his fault y’all… spookums broke in and started messin’ ‘round, probably scarin’ him half to death.”

Gavin glared at him. “Spookums? Did you call us spookums?”

“We’re a proud race of forest gnomes,” Harry said hotly. “Maybe you should watch what you say.”

Fiddleford put his hands on his hips, furrowing his brow. “Now hold on now. Y’all can’t just breakin’ into people’s houses and get mad when somebody gets mad ‘atcha! If you didn’t want to get in trouble, you shouldn’t go poking your heads in the badger’s den.” 

“We’re gnomes, man. Breaking-in is what we do!” Harry said, voice raising slightly as his shoulders hunched, eyes going fierce. “You’re the weirdos with this guy hanging around in your house.” He gestured disdainfully towards Stanley. “Some things are better left in the woods, man.”

Fiddleford made an offended noise, like a kettle about to blow its lid. He couldn’t get the image of Tate’s little face out of his head - had Stanley looked like that? 

He was about to snap back before Ford interrupted him-

“Let’s not get too emotional,” Ford tried, clearly aiming for his voice to be smooth, casual and professional-like, but ending up falling somewhere closer towards too stiff, tense. “This is all just an… unfortunate accident on everyone’s parts. Let’s be civilized about this.”

Gavin scoffed. “Yeah, tell that to him,” he glared in Stanley’s direction, letting out a mocking sound as though to mimic Stanley’s growling.

His own growling racketing up, Stanley shifted like he was about to move forward, but Ford hastily stepped between them. “Please don’t antagonize him,” Ford said, more like an order than a request, “There’s no need. I have the situation under control now.” 

“Yeah,” Fiddleford piped up, “You leave him alone.”

He glanced towards Stanley’s hunched form, the thin specks of blood that the fork had drawn, the way he held that arm aloft not like a human, but like a dog might with an injured leg. A cold shudder blustered through Fiddleford. 

Lord, man, Fiddleford thought, what happened to you?

Fiddleford had a five year old boy at home. Ford himself was proof that one can in fact retain memories of that time with some level of clarity - incredible clarity, if you're Ford. A five year old can walk and talk, form memories, can be plenty cognizant of their surroundings. A five year old boy doesn’t just forget how to be a human. 

Something had to have happened. And just the thought of what that could have been terrified Fiddleford more than he could say. 

What if it had been Tate?

“You guys should control your weird friend,” Gavin grumbled. “‘coulda mauled me to death.” 

“Right, well, you survived,” Ford said, with more brusqueness than was polite - really though, knowing him, he probably thought he was being comforting.

“We’d like an apology,” Harry piped up. 

“Yeah. Maybe a token of your regrets, too…” Gavin agreed, looking meaningfully towards the fridge. 

Ford frowned, more confusion than anything else. “What is there to apologize for? It's not as though you died. You'll get better.”

Stanley was looking tenser and tenser by the minute, glancing up at Ford periodically with a mixture of confusion and apprehension. His arm was still bleeding sluggishly, Fiddleford noticed, tucked tight and protective to his chest.

A drop of his blood rolled down his arm and hit the floor with the smallest of sounds.

Fiddleford felt the last of his rapidly depleting patience fray. 

“Alright, that’s enough,” he said suddenly, crossing his arms and affecting an immovable sternness into his voice only a man with a toddler at home could achieve, “Clear out, the both of ya. You’ve overstayed yer welcome ‘round here.”

“Wh- hey!” Harry protested as Fiddleford started shooing them away, towards the open kitchen window they’d presumably come from. “You can’t just kick us out without even-”

“I can, and I’m doin’ it,” Fiddleford said, ushering them out. “Shoo, shoo ya varmint! Don’t you go comin’ back here for a long while!”

“We won’t stand for this! We’re the gnomes of the forest, we won’t just be- ack!” Fiddleford leaned down and scooped Gavin and Harry, tucking both of them under his arms like one would unruly toddlers. Gavin let out a hiss of pain as his injured side was jostled, and Harry let out a hiss of indignant rage as he was easily lifted. 

Both gnomes under his arms, he marched them both to the window. 

“You’re going to regret this!” Harry shrilled angrily, flailing and struggling, punching Fiddleford’s arm and side without avail. “We gnomes are not to be trifled with! We’re a powerful race!”

“Yeah, yeah, y’all have fun wit’ that.” Fiddleford shuffled his grip on them, holding them by the backs of their shirts out the window. “See y’all later now.” 

Harry and Gavin both hit the ground with twin thumps, Gavin letting out a groan of pain and clutching his side, glaring up at Fiddleford heatedly. Harry, to his credit, rushed to his buddies side, helping him up. He glowered up at Fiddleford. “You will regret this. Gnomes are terrible enemies to have-” 

“That’s real nice for you, bye now,” Fiddleford said, and shut the window on both of them. 

The click of the lock latching into place was more of a relief than Fiddleford expected. He let out a deep, drawn out sigh, closing his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

Stanley’s growling had stopped sometime around when Fiddleford first grabbed the gnomes. When Fiddleford cracked an open, he could see Stanley peering at him intently now, clearly weighing him consideringly in his mind, though in what way Fiddleford hadn’t the darndest clue. 

“That was maybe not the best move,” Ford started slowly, startling Fiddleford a bit - he’d honestly forgotten his friend was even there for a moment. “I know they might seem unthreatening, but the gnomes can indeed be quite terrifying when they all set their minds to it-”

“I don’t even know where to begin with the fact that there are honest to God, real living gnomes running around,” Fiddleford interrupted. “I ain’t about to start pondering their power of teamwork or what have you.” 

Fiddleford looked at his hands, then shuddered. 

“They aren’t venomous to the touch, are they? Diseased or anything?” He started looking around the kitchen, hands held aloft. “I should wash my hands, just to be sure.” 

“I believe the word you are looking for is actually ‘poisonous’. And no, they’re not - trust me, I’ve handled them many times before and suffered no ill effects.” 

“Thank the Lord,” Fiddleford sighed. “‘kay then. So, gnomes?”

Ford folded his hands behind his back. “Gnomes, yes. My apologies for not warning you sooner, I just didn’t think it would come up this early.” 

Ford drew in a breath, lifted his head, straightened his shoulders - his clear tell for an oncoming lecture. 

“You see, Gravity Falls is a very strange town, filled with all sorts of anomalous and magical entities, such as those gnomes. I’ve been studying the properties and creatures of this Weirdness - that’s how I met Remus over here.” He nodded towards Stanley. “We likely won’t be interacting much with any of it, due to the nature of our work, but it is best to let you know, to mitigate any more surprises.”

Won’t be interacting much with it. Fiddleford let out a sigh of relief. “Well, that’s good ‘ta hear at least. I don’t reckon my heart could take too many more scares like that, at least not without a bit of mental and physical preparation.” 

“Of course. I can assure you that other than the gnomes, most anomalies tend to stay in the woods, and not in my kitchen.” Ford glanced down at the shattered remains of some ceramic fixture, and the gnome-blood on the floor, and he frowned. “Hm. I should probably clean that up.” 

“Yes, you probably should. Wouldn’t want anyone getting hurt now.” 

“No, of course- oh!” Ford froze, like he was suddenly remembering something. He turned to Stanley. “Oh, Remus! I’d almost forgotten!”

Stanley was hunkered down and, now that Fiddleford was paying attention, making low, unhappy noises, arm still held aloft protectively. He looked up at Ford with a mixture of trepidation and curiosity, eyes narrowed. 

“You were injured in that scuffle, were you not?” Ford dropped to his knees, shifting forward to brazenly grab at Stanley’s injured arm, as though Stanley wasn’t a feral man with seemingly no understanding of English and an already apparent tendency towards violence. Ford grasped his arm, pulling and turning it so he could get a good look at the injury. “Blast, these are some deep wounds for an injury from a fork, Remus. We’ll need to clean this in case of infection.”

Stanley growled warningly, trying to pull his arm away. Fiddleford felt his heart stutter slightly in fear. 

But Ford just pulled back at him, refusing to let go. He tsked. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic, you're fine. Fiddleford, would you fetch me my first aid kit? I believe there’s one in the cabinet underneath the sink.”

Indeed there was one, pressed up amidst the cleaning supplies and jars filled with items Fiddleford would really rather not spend any time thinking about. He quickly fished out the kit and shut the cabinet door.

“Thank you,” Ford said as Fiddleford handed the white box to him. He deftly popped it open with one hand, the other still holding Stanley’s arm, and unscrewed the cap of a bottle of what looked to be homemade antiseptic. It was green, watery and slightly iridescent under the light, and Ford doused a liberal amount of it right onto Stanley’s injury.

Stanley snarled, loud and surprised, attempting to yank his arm back. Ford just tightened his grip.

“I know, I know,” Ford sighed. He rubbed Stanley’s arm with his thumb, showing more gentleness than Fiddleford ever thought possible of the blunt, awkward man he knew from college. “It hurts, doesn’t it? I’m sorry, but I can’t let you get an infection.”

He set the antiseptic aside carefully, his now freed hand reaching up to card six fingers through Stanley’s hair with a shocking amount of tenderness.

“There, you’re alright. That's over now.” He huffed, shaking his head a bit. “I’d reprimand you for being so foolish as to pick a fight with those gnomes, but it seems you’ve learned your lesson. Perhaps a little more harshly than is even necessary.” He patted Stanley’s arm, frowning at the injury there. “I think I’m starting to understand why some of the townsfolk dislike the gnomes, honestly.”

Ford sighed, his arms snaking around Stanley, tipping his head to mumble to him. 

“We best install some sort of reinforcement to keep those gnomes out. Wouldn’t want you getting hurt, now would we?” Stanley sighed, slumping into Ford’s arms. Ford propped his chin on top of Stanley’s head contentedly. “No, I won’t have you getting hurt at all, not if I can help it.”

Feeling like an intruder in a private moment, Fiddleford busied himself with awkwardly snagging the bottle of antiseptic and screwing its cap back on as quietly and unintrusively as he could. 

Ford glanced over at him, giving an approving nod, before turning his attention back to Stanley, who seemed to have calmed down significantly under Ford’s attention, slumping against him trustingly, breathing slowly. Ford scratched lightly at his scalp affectionately. “We better get some salve on that arm, hm?”

Sitting on his now idle hands, Fiddleford looked away, wanting to give them some semblance of privacy but also not wanting to draw attention to himself by moving elsewhere. This felt like something he should leave them alone for - he’d never seen Ford act this… what was the word? Touchy? Emotionally-open? 

He’d never seen Ford act like this without inhibition of a few drinks to loosen his tongue up, or a blanket of night to provide him some sense of secrecy.

Aware of it or not, Ford’s brother seemed to bring out a different side to him. A heart alongside his brains. Not to say that Ford was heartless or anything! Fiddleford knew better than anyone how much Ford cared, sometimes - he just wasn’t always the best at showing it- not that he never-

“Fiddleford?” Jolting a bit at his name being called, Fiddleford turned to see Ford looking at him. “Would you mind grabbing that small glass container in the first aid kit? Yes, that’s the one- now, would you be so kind as to apply some of that gel to Remus’s arm here? Just on the injury.” 

Hands tightening around the small, roughly four-ounce jar. Fiddleford’s eyes widened a bit. He glanced over to Stanley, who had Ford's gaze towards Fiddleford, expression unreadable, yet watchful. “Uh, you sure ‘bout that, Stanford?”

Ford looked at him as though he couldn't possibly understand what the problem was. “Certainly. Remus warmed up to me quite a bit when I did the same, it’s the easiest way for you to gain his trust.” Ford patted Stanley on the head like one might the hood of a reliable old car. “He’s very intelligent. He’ll understand you aren’t trying to hurt him.” 

Fiddleford swallowed, shrinking back a bit. “I… I dunno, Stanford, I mean, saying hello to him earlier was one thing, but smart or not he still thinks he’s a wild animal…” He’d seen just a minute ago how hard Stanley could bite when he wanted to.

“Come on now, Fiddleford, it’s only Remus. He won't hurt you. Furthermore, you and him having a positive relationship will be beneficial not only for our research, but also for our living situation. I can’t supervise the two of you at all times, you’ll need to be able to at least coexist peacefully.” Ford snaked his arms even further around Stanley, completely enveloping him in a tight embrace. “Here, I’ll even hold him still, for your peace of mind.” 

“Goody,” Fiddleford mumbled, fumbling to pop the cap off the jar with suddenly shaky hands. He couldn’t stop picturing the way Stanley’s teeth had been embedded into that gnome, the force behind that bite. “Can’t wait.” 

“You’ll be fine,” Ford dismissed with more flippancy than Fiddleford found comforting. “Now, just dip a finger or two into the gel, getting just enough to cover the whole of Remus’ wound here.”

The salve was oddly smooth, almost soft as Fiddleford scooped up a small dollop of the stuff onto two fingers. He lifted it up, examining it in the light - it wasn’t quite as iridescent as the antiseptic, but it did seem to slowly shift slightly in color, the stuff making contact with Fiddleford’s fingers shifting to be more of a greenish-hue, while the rest stayed a calming teal.

“It reacts to body-heat,” Ford piped up, pride shining in voice. He must have noticed Fiddleford’s curiosity. “Because of its slight transparency, you can actually see that with your naked eye - hence the difference in color.” 

“Fascinating,” Fiddleford murmured, tilting it this way and that. “And it heals people?”

“To an extent,” Ford said excitedly. “Its effects and limits are actually very interesting just on their own - it can heal surface wounds, but anything deeper it can’t reach. I’ve yet to experiment with injecting it, nevermind that that would be rather imprecise… Well, anyways, I haven’t needed it for any serious injuries yet, but it does wonders for sunburns and mosquito bites.”

“Well ain’t that just the darndest thing. Where’d ya even find something like this?” 

Ford preened, practically fluffing with pride. “That’s just the thing! I made it myself, combining various ingredients from the forest and-”

Stanley made a low, unhappy noise. Ford jolted. 

“Ah, right, the task at hand. I’ve gotten carried away again.” Ford shook his head. “Nevermind all that for now, we can discuss it further later. For now, we tend to our wounded.” 

Ford patted Stanley on the back, motioning with his other hand for Fiddleford to come closer.

“Simply apply the salve over the injured area and watch it work its magic,” Ford instructed. “Don’t worry about hurting him, he’ll be alright. Better for it, really.” 

Despite the assurances, Fiddleford’s hand still shook slightly as he carefully, so carefully reached over, glancing over at Stanley’s face repeatedly to watch his reaction. The feral man remained impassive, just watching him as Fiddleford slowly started smearing the gel over the wounds.

Stanley tensed suddenly, a soft growl kicking to life in his chest. His lips pulled back to reveal jagged, truly grisly looking teeth, twisting into an angry snarl. 

Fear struck Fiddleford in the chest like a physical, wrenching blow - he scooted backwards, shoes squeaking on the linoleum, gel-covered hand still raised up. Images of those teeth flashing in his head, those teeth digging into the gnome’s side, those teeth, still red with blood, snarling at him-

“Fiddleford,” Ford said, voice steady, almost firm. “He’s not going to hurt you. He’s just flinching. See, I’m not even holding him back.”

And he wasn’t. Stanley wasn’t struggling from Ford’s grip at all, just sitting there, calm as anything, not even straining to lunge for Fiddleford’s jugular and rip him to pieces. He was just… sitting there. Face twisted not in rage, but in pain. Calmness in his eyes. Just sitting there, watching Fiddleford. 

“He’s just flinching, as anyone would to having gel rubbed into an open wound. He did the same when I was applying it, and he never once attacked me. You’re alright,” Ford continued. 

“Right. Yeah.” Fiddleford shook himself, forcing himself to stop shaking. “Yeah. Sorry ‘bout that, don’t know what came over me there.” 

“It’s no matter,” Ford said. “Can you apply the rest?”

Fiddleford nodded tensely, scooting forward and slowly placing his fingers back onto Stanley’s arm, pressing down with as little force as he could. And true to Ford’s word, while he did growl and whine, Stanley didn’t move a muscle against Fiddleford as he cautiously applied the cool gel. 

Once he was done, Fiddleford retracted his hand, holding it to his chest almost protectively. 

Stanley just looked him over, then huffed. He bumped his head lightly against the side of Ford’s face, then wiggled out. With one last friendly pat to Stanley’s shoulder, Ford let him go - Fiddleford froze where he sat, but Stanley only glanced at him before looking back to the kitchen window, where Fiddleford had, uh, disposed of the gnomes.

He looked between Fiddleford and the window, something almost thoughtful in his eyes, though what he was thinking about Fiddleford hadn’t the faintest clues. If Stanley even thought like a human did at all.

His gaze landed with finality on the window. Stanley’s lips pulled back into a snarl, like out a loud, rumbling warning call of a growl. Hunkering down slightly, he opened his mouth and let a sharp, thunderclap of a bark, powerful enough to send the startled caws of birds up from the trees outside.

Fiddleford flinched so hard he nearly brained himself on a cabinet. 

Stanley’s eyes flicked over to him. The growling softened and faded out, leaving him silent. 

He walked, arm still held up, on his hand and knees. Instinctively Fiddleford scooted back, his back bumping against the cabinet - he hissed as one of the knobs jabbed him in the side, but then Stanley was inches away, and he fell silent again. 

 Stanley was as blank-faced and watchful as the old farm dogs Fiddleford had grown up with - never the most friendly things, but dutiful to the very end.  

They had been far from pets, and as children Fiddleford’s parents always strongly discouraged him and his siblings from viewing them that way. They were working dogs - they were useful, born bred and trained all their lives to be the perfect livestock dogs. A good one was well appreciated, practically irreplaceable. 

A bad dog was taken out back and- disposed of. That was just the way of things - no mourning, not for bad dogs. They were animals, and this was the way of things. 

And like an animal, there was nothing readable in Stanley’s eyes.

Part of their work in training the dogs was to catch the good from the bad, figure out which was which. The good dogs do their jobs. The good dogs take to their training well, help wrangle the animals, ward off threats and, if necessary, protect them at all costs, even if that cost is their own life. It’s what they’re trained to do. A bad dog is an untrainable dog.

It’s a dog that hunts the animals, not protects.

And Fiddleford couldn’t tell which one Stanley was.

“H-hey there, uh, buddy,” he said, cursing the way his voice shook. “Whatcha doin’?”

Unreadable brown eyes bored into Fiddleford’s skull.

What does he want? He ain’t mad I put that salve on his arm, is he? Ford said he’s smarter than that but Ford’s a bit of a sentimental sort, you know he ain’t always as pragmatic as he makes himself out to be, and you saw what Stanley did to them gnomes, Fiddleford, teeth like that he’ll got a good chunk outta ya before you can pull him off, and who knows what kinda diseases this fella’s carryin’ around from the woods - sweet sarsaparilla, what if he’s got rabies? There ain’t no cure for rabies. If I get rabies I won’t ever be able to see ‘m boy again, he’s just a little fella, he’ll have to grow up with barely a memory of his old man, all ‘cause I got bit by a rabid man, and then how will Ems keep float without botha’ our income, they’ll have to sell the house to ‘m funeral expenses, and Tate’ll have to go to a different school and Ems will havta to move in with her folks and she hates her folks and-

Something warm and wet lapped at Fiddleford’s cheek. 

He was abruptly snapped out of his spiraling thoughts, returning to the reality of-

-of Stanley licking him on the face. What?

“Remus!” Ford admonished from aside, coming over to pull Stanley off Fiddleford. “What did I tell you about licking people?”

Stanley huffed at him, waving his tongue in Fiddleford’s direction menacingly, like how one might waggle a finger at someone. Fiddleford pressed a shell-shocked hand to his cheek. It was indeed damp with salvia. Like he’d been licked by a dog. 

“Terribly sorry, Fiddleford, I should have warned you that he tends to do that sometimes. I believe it’s something he picked up from the coyotes - did I mention he’s been living with the coyotes? - well, I hypothesize the licking to be an attempt at a soothing gesture.” He hooked his arms under Stanley’s, pulling him aside like a misbehaving dog. “Fret not, he’s done the same to me before I’ve suffered no ill consequences. He doesn’t seem to be carrying any sort of transmittable disease - miraculously, considering his previous living conditions.”

“I- uh. Um.” Fiddleford blinked, dazed. He felt as though his thoughts, racing and uncontrollable just seconds ago, had suddenly slammed into a solid wall, leaving him stumbling and reeling.

Stanley looked at him for a moment, eyes unreadable as they’d ever been - then he blinked, exhaling, and slipped out of Ford’s hold. He trudged out of the kitchen, still on all fours, turning around a corner and disappearing. 

There was a shroud of silence over the kitchen for a moment. Fiddleford didn’t think he could bring himself to break the clasp of silence over them even if he wanted to.

Then Ford stood with a soft grunt, dusting off his pants, and the spell was broken.

“Right, well, crisis averted, I suppose. I do hope the gnomes don’t take anything personally.” He straightened his shirt primly, glancing down at the mess still on the kitchen floor unhappily. “If anyone should be upset, it should be me, after all. I rather liked that jam jar.”

Fiddleford wasn’t really listening - his eyes stayed on where he’d last seen Stanley, the gears of his brain slowly returning to their turning, replaying the events of the day in his mind. “...you seem mighty comfortable with him.”

“Hm?” Ford looked up, following Fiddleford’s gaze to the doorway, the bend Stanley disappeared behind. Realization fluttered to life across his face, the thoughtful pinch of his brow smoothing. “Oh, you mean Remus?”

“Yeah,” Fiddleford confirmed distantly. 

Ford shrugged loosely. “Now that you say it, I suppose that that’s true. It’s just… hm, how to explain it?” He scratched the back of his neck idly, squinting at nothing as though trying to parse his thoughts into words. “It’s just that I feel… at ease, in Remus’ presence. Comfortable, like you said. I’d honestly assumed that would be the case for anyone meeting Remus, that it might be an effect of his - you don’t find him soothing to be around at all?”

Fiddleford’s heart still hadn’t quite returned to normal, still a flurry steadily slowing in his chest with each passing moment he wasn’t mauled or attacked. He couldn’t help the soft chuckle Ford’s words surprised out of him. “No, I don’t reckon I do. He damn near gave me a heart attack, he did. Thought he was gonna chew me up and spit me out like an old chicken bone.” 

Ford scoffed, somehow both with surprise and disagreement. “I told you, he’s perfectly safe to be around! I’ve been keeping a close eye on him for the past week or so, and he’s never once done anything violent towards me.”

“If you say so,” Fiddleford said doubtfully. He ran a hand through his hair, sighing. “Still, we havta find some way to help the poor fella. It ain’t right, letting him go on as he is, not even knowing he’s a human person…”

“Of course, of course, as we’ve agreed to. We’ll fit it in the schedule, sometime between our work on the machine.”

“‘bout that machine,” Fiddleford started, straightening, “I was wonderin’ if ya had any ideas in mind? Any plans or anythin’?”

Ford brightened. “Yes! I’ve been working on drawing up some blueprints for you, and I have a few theories as to how it might work…”

He went on, talking animatedly as he started guiding Fiddleford out of the kitchen, down the spiraling halls of the cabin and towards the study - but Fiddleford couldn’t help the way his eyes wandered down every corridor and corner, looking the distinctive hunched shape and billowing brown hair of a certain Pines. 

I’ll help ya, Fiddleford promised in his head, I’ll getcha back on yer two feet, or my names not Fiddleford H. McGucket. I promise.

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[multi-fandom-imagine]

Dude seriously nobody talks enough about Stan’s route and it’s literally my favorite. Especially the cliff part and the art for that is so UGGHHH I wish the moment wasn’t interrupted 💔

RIGHT! I mean I enjoy Ford's route but come on. Stan's is just amazing.

He fixes your car for free { even though we all know he could have made some excuse and pushed it off on someone else }

He makes you a hat! WITH YOUR NAME ON IT

Get's all bashful when you take Mabel and Dipper out for breakfast and you help Mabel for Gompers and Waddles wedding 😩.

Build's you a camp fire and gives you his jacket.

Remembers that you wanted to know how to fight and want to dance then builds a spot to teach you and takes you dancing { he actually pushes the date up so you can }

Don't get me started on that dance scene 😩

[dark-lord-of-awesomeness]

Well now I need a backstory on Vampire Lord Bill before I finish gnawing through the bars of my enclosure

Also, I’m obsessed with the idea that, if Ford is at all a reliable narrator, Bill was angry at Ford, somehow kidnapped Stan (did he know about Stan or think he was Ford at first then decided this would be hilarious?), turned him, and then left him as a present for Ford

Amazing.

So i don't have a hard back story for him, just a general idea that might flesh out as I write this.

SO. Bill is old, like, pre written history old. He was a messed up kid in his home, an ancient city of some kind, long lost to time. He was born with extra abilities (like his fire :)) and was an outcast, despite his mom trying her best to help him feel loved.

At some point, young and sixteenish, he either got turned by another vampire or became one by less traditional means, either making a deal with a demon, drinking his tormentors blood, something. However it happened, Bill entered his undead life already powerful and with a higher class of vampirsim that makes him stronger, faster, and with a wider set of powers than the norm (less so than he is currently, being so old, but still powerful for a newborn vamp). Then he went and ate everyone in his home, burning the place down in his blood fueled hunger, too out of it to really think about what he was doing or pay attention to who he was eating.

But it was all in good fun! He's powerful and he can do whatever he wants! Its their fault for messing with him in the first place! (He is Not Looking. He didn't do anything Wrong. He is sixteen(ish) forever and cannot hear his mothers screams)

Time goes on, and he gets a better handle of what he can do and why. Eventually starts building an undead army to overtake humanity and give him ultimate control of the human cattle, putting him on top. (He's sixteen(ish) forever and has delusions of grandeur and has become insane).

No one else is happy with this, of course. Not just some of the other, non Bill related vampires, but also humans and other supernatural creatures. They band together to take him out, eventually pinning him down. Except he's sixteen(ish) (or looks it, no one knows how old he really is) and uses his fake tears and baby face to sway some of the softer hearts (axolotl maybe?)(or maybe they couldn't kill him, not with the speed he regenerated) so instead of killing him outright he gets sealed, classic vampire style, chained in a coffin in a blood stained circle and all kinds of signs saying 'hey, this guys bad news! get away from here!'

So of course Ford stumbles across this huge red flag and says 'man life sure is beautiful behind my rose colored glasses'. cuts his finger on the coffin, rousing Bill from sleep and creating a connection, which results in all their dream dates. Bill was sealed so long ago for a misunderstanding Ford! He's so lonely here, and he wants to see the amazing world Ford knows! What is he? A god! His vessel was sealed, trapping Bill in this psychic space, but he sensed Ford was special, and they can do great things together :)

Ford has no idea Bill's a perma sixteen year old vampire. Bill's lying about his age here, catfishing a grown human man.

Anyway it ends with Ford breaking the seal, and Bill gets free. He looks awful and mummy like, and the only reason he didn't kill Ford straight up was because he wanted to turn Ford and has enough self control right now that Fords not bleeding to bypass him.

There's a lovely town down below after all :) Perfect for a hungry vampire.

Meanwhile Ford realizes he's Fucked Up Big Time, scrambles to chase Bill to stop the blood bath he knows will happen. Gets there in time to witness half the town dead and shout about how he's not gong to let Bill get what he wants! Except there's still that psychic connection, so Bill sorta hypnotizes Ford into not fighting him (not that he thinks Ford would stand a chance, but still).

Bill thinks this is so cute! Fordsy is playing hard to get, wants to make a game out of his inevitable turning. Bill, being a perma sixteen(ish) has fallen hard for Fords older man energy. Is convinced its only a matter of time before Ford folds and falls for his charms, let Bill turn him and together they'll take the world by storm. He's got it all planned out, has all kinds of dramatic 'oh no, you've got me ;)' and 'look at who I have here ;)' scenarios planned out. Then theyll make out or something. Doesn't matter, as long as Ford belongs to Bill.

Except he got Stan instead. Stan, the other Pines, who's nearly identical but also the bottom of the barrel in terms of humans. Bill wouldn't care about Stan, except that he's connected to Ford, so getting him instead of the real deal is like almost getting a jack pot then one of the spinners goes over or something. I don't know anything about gambling. It pisses him off, but! He can use it, use Stan as a new weird foreplay thing where he kills Stan and gives his shriveled corpse to Ford. Ford will love it! Or hate it, and chase Bill more! Either way, Bill wins!

Then he finds out Ford did not get the shriveled corpse Bill had prepped. Where did it go? Who's going around stealing corpses? Oh, Stan's a vampire now? Huh.

Rage. Rage in Bill 100000 years. He doesnt want Stan! Stan's not supposed to be a part of Bill's undead legion! He's supposed to be dead! Or forgotten once Bill turns Ford and paints the world red! Or fed to Ford in some other, more messed up form of foreplay! He's not supposed to be walking around in undead life!

[real-fire-emblem-takes]

I am so thankful that fire emblem introduced me to Chrom, Robin, Lissa, Miriel, Stahl, Henry, Olivia, Cherche, Sumia, Donnel, Lon'qu, Maribelle, Panne, Gaius, Cordelia, Tharja, Anna, Say'ri, Tiki, Lucina, Owain, Inigo, Cynthia, Severa, Morgan, Yarne, Laurent, Noir, Nah, Corrin, Azura, Felicia, Jakob, Kaze, Mozu, Ryoma, Hinoka, Takumi, Sakura, Saizo, Kagero, Setsuna, Hinata, Oboro, Subaki, Hayato, Orochi, Kaden, Xander, Camilla, Leo, Elise, Laslow, Peri, Selena, Odin, Niles, Effie, Nyx, Charlotte, Kaden, Flora, Kana, Shigure, Dwyer, Sophie, Midori, Shiro, Kiragi, Asugi, Mitama, Hisame, Caeldori, Rahjat, Selkie, Seigbert, Forrest, Soliel, Ophelia, Nina, Velouria, Lilith, Alm, Gray, Tobin, Kliff, Faye, Lukas, Silque, Clair, Clive, Forsyth, Python, Luthier, Delthea, Tatiana, Zeke, Celica, Mae, Boey, Genny, Saber, Leon, Palla, Catria, Est, Jesse, Atlas, Sonya, Deen, Conrad, Fernand, Emma, Randal, Yuzu, Shade, Byleth, Edelgard, Hubert, Ferdinand, Linhardt, Caspar, Bernadetta, Dorothea, Petra, Dimitri, Felix, Sylvain, Mercedes, Annette, Ingrid, Claude, Lysithea, Marianne, Seteth, Flayn, Manuela, Shamir, Jertiza, Yuri, Balthus, Constance, Hapi, Sothis, Rhea, Shez, Randolph, Rodrigue, Nader, Sothis, Arval, Alear, Vander, Framme, Clanne, Alfred, Celine, Boucheron, Etie, Louis, Chloe, Jean, Diamant, Alcryst, Amber, Jade, Citrinne, Lapis, Yunaka, Saphir, Ivy, Hortensia, Zelkov, Kagetsu, Rosado, Goldmary, Timerra, Fogado, Merrin, Panette, Bunet, Pandreo, Seadall, Veyle, Mauvier, Nel, Rafal, Zelestia, Gregory, Madeline, Zephia, Griss, Marni, Sommie, Lumera, Eve, Morion, Sephoria, Hyacinth, Itsuki, Tsubasa, Touma, Kiria, Eleonora, Mamori, Yashiro, Maiko, Alfonse, Sharena, Askr, Ash, Veronica, Embla, Elm, Feh, Fehnix, Nifil, Fijorm, Gunnthra, Hrid, Muspell, Laegjarn, Eir, Ymir, Peony, Mirabilis, Freyr, Triandra, Plumeria, Freyja, Eitr, Ginnungagap, Nioavellir, Otr, Nott, Seior, Gullveig, Kvasir, Heior, Nerpuz, Ratatoskr, Hraesvelgr, Heiorun, Eikpyrnir, Loki, Thorr, Baldr, Hoor, Rowan, Lianna, Eirika, Ephiram, Gilliam, Vanessa, Ross, Neimi, Colm, Artur, Lute, Natasha, Joshua, Forde, Kyle, Tana, Innes, Gerik, Tethys, Marisa, L'Arachel, Saleh, Ewan, Cormag, Rennac, Knoll, Dussel, Myrrh, Syrene, Ismaire, Glen, Lyon, Lyn, Sain, Kent, Florina, Wil, Serra, Erk, Rath, Mathew, Nils, Lucius, Eliwood, Rebecca, Hector, Guy, Priscilla, Raven, Canas, Fiora, Ninian, Heath, Geitz, Farina, Pent, Louise, Karel, Harken, Nino, Jaffar, Karla, Llyod, Roy, Alen, Lance, Wolt, Elen, Dieck, Rutger, Dorothy, Sue, Noah, Lilina, Gwendolyn, Ogier, Geese, Klein, Thea, Larum, Elffin, Melady, Perceval, Cecilia, Sophia, Fae, Hugh, Zeiss, Juno, Narcian, Galle, Brunnya, Sigurd, Naoise, Azelle, Lex, Quan, Ethlyn, Finn, Midir, Dew, Edain, Ayra, Deirdre, Chulainn, Lachesis, Lewyn, Silvia, Tailtiu, Brigid, Eldigan, Seliph, Lana, Larcie, Scathach, Lester, Julia, Fee, Arthur, Shannan, Daisy, Leif, Nanna, Ares, Lene, Tine, Linda, Febail, Ced, Marth, Ceada, Cain, Xane, Camus, Linde, Mineva, Michalis, Julian, Lena, Merric, Wolf, Jeorge, Elice, Ronan, Safy, Lifis, Lara, Asbel, Shiva, Cain, Mareeta, Salem, Perne, Tina, Homer, Linoan, Sara, Shannam, Alva, Robert, Fred, Diarmuid, Micaiah, Edward, Leonardo, Laura, Sothe, Ilyana, Volug, Zihark, Tormod, Vika, Rafiel, Black Knight, Elincia, Marcia, Leanne, Haar, Nephenee, Lucia, Lethe, Geoffrey, Kieran, Astrid, Ike, Titania, Oscar, Boyd, Shinon, Soren, Mist, Gatrie, Rhys, Ranulf, Kyza, Lyre, Reyson, Sigrun, Naesala, Skrimir, Sanaki, Tibarn, Pelleas, Stefan, Volke, Ena, Kurthnaga, Nasir.

I adore them all so much, they all live in my head rent free, I cannot stop thinking and I absolutely love drawing them when I get the chance to do so. I've been a fan of this series for 9 years now and it's still going strong!!!

I really really do love fire emblem... I also suspect that I may not be neurotypical...

!

[matrixbearer2024]

FINDING YOUR FORD AU SUBMISSION TIME!

Considering how many suggestions I'm getting, I'd love to streamline things just a little and so I have a central pool of references + variant description I can use while drawing the sprites(still trying to figure out what kind of style I'll use)

Use this as a template and draw your Ford! All I ask is one full-body with color(as basis) and a description of the general AU traits, notable Ford traits(what you think makes him unique from canon) and quotes so I can get an idea of his dialogue + scenarios!

You can fill in the free space any way you please(doodles or extra information) reblog this post with your Ford that you would like to see added and @ the AU creators you'd want to see have a hand in this too!

Also as a disclaimer, I do accept AUs that are Billford or Fiddauthor centric! So fire away friends! Let the Ford shipping mosh pit blaze!