#loosely based on gravity falls

[kcuf-ad]

Ai: Oh, oh! Looks Like our little Yusaku has a crush on Skye!

Yusaku: No, I don't.

Kolter: Wow, in denial already, bud? How shocking.

Yusaku: In denial? Why would I be in denial?

Ai: Well for starters, you meatbag, you have seen to be much more happier around her and did that creepy thing with your mouth.

Yusaku:...smiling?

Ai: Yeah, it gives me the creeps bro.

Yusaku: That doesn't mean I have feelings for her, I just felt happier around her, that Is all.

Kolter: Didn't you once blush when she complimented you?

Yusaku: I was emberassed, people blush when they are emberassed.

Kolter: Yeah right. Look, you can stop Being in denial, and just confess already, we won't tell anyone.

Yusaku:... You are typing with Theodore on the phone.

Kolter:...*closes the phone*

Yusaku: Another thing, I don't have feelings for her, not in the slightest, I only think of her as a friend, it is not Like I keep thinking about her at night.

*Later, at night*

Yusaku: ... Ah, Crap.

[fosliie]

The end result of my own reckless impulsivity

[kate-bot]

more dumb billford for u

[ckret2]

So y'all know the Gravity Falls production bible that leaked three weeks ago. Someone in one of my discord servers pointed this out:

And, naturally, that spawned an entire AU.

AU Concept: Ford was kicked out instead of Stan and takes a job as a trucker to makes ends meet since he couldn't go to college, while still studying the weird and anomalous however he can.

Ford driving around from quirky small town to quirky small town, drifting through the liminal spaces of truck stops, meeting odd people in isolated diners, seeing strange things out on the road—a deer with too many eyes bounding across a two-lane highway, a flirty woman at a rest stop who doesn't blink or breathe, mysterious lights in the sky at night, inhuman growls on the CB or 50-year-old broadcasts on the radio—and taking notes when he stops for gas or food.

Aside from having gotten kicked out before graduating high school, Ford's the same person he is in canon.

He's still an ambitious guy, and here "ambitious" means working hard and saving as much money as he can—so, a long haul owner-operator who spends weeks at a time on the road. (He goes through a LOT of educational audiobooks.) Plus, this is the easiest way for him to get to travel the country; and since it looks like his "travel the world" dreams with Stan are dead, he'll take what he can get.

Since he's never in the same spot long and carries his life in a truck, almost all of Ford's research is in his journal. His bag of investigation supplies has an instant camera, a portable tape recorder, a thermometer, a flashlight, rubber gloves, and a few zip lock bags—and that's about it. It has to share space with all his clothes, toiletries, and nonperishable food when he's on the road. He doesn't have much opportunity to closely examine anything odd he finds, unless he's lucky enough to run into something when he can stop for the night. He has to cram his paranormal research around the side of his full-time job.

He doesn't live in Gravity Falls, but he knows it exists. Every time he moves—to Chicago, to Nebraska, to California—he seems to inch closer. He currently lives in Portland and usually hauls loads between the Pacific Northwest and Chicago or New York. He stops at the truck stop outside Gravity Falls when he can and has gone fishing in town a few times. He doesn't have the benefit of extensive research to know that this is the weirdest town in the world; but it seems pretty weird to him, there are local rumors about the town, and he's had some weird experiences in the area.

Plus, he can't explain it, but it's like the town's calling to him. He wants to move there, but it'd put him over an hour outside of Portland where the nearest jobs are. Maybe if somebody chucked him like $100k to build a cabin in the woods; but what are the odds of that?

He does know Fiddleford. Truck broke down somewhere and Fiddleford kindly pulled over to fix it on the fly. They looked at each other, had mutual knee-jerk "dumb trucker/hillbilly" reactions, and within ten minutes both went "oh wait you're the most brilliant genius i've ever met." Fiddleford's living the same life he was in canon before Ford called him to Gravity Falls—with his family in California, trying to start a computer company out of his garage—but they make friends and keep in contact.

One time Ford stops at a kitschy roadside knickknack store that also sells new agey magic things—crystals, tarot cards, incense, etc. He bought a "lucky" rearview mirror ornament that looks like an Eye of Providence in a top hat and hung it from his cab fan, and ever since then he's had weird dreams whenever he sleeps in his truck.

Things I don't know yet: what Stan's up to; or why Ford's the one who got kicked out. I tend to believe that in canon Stan wasn't just kicked out because he ruined Ford's college prospects, but rather because the family thought he deliberately sabotaged Ford; so in this AU, Ford would've been kicked out over a proportionate crime.

[phobiacoms]

quando inspiração se torna paranoia

[misteria247]

Fiddleford minding his own business and vibing

Stanley mentally hyping himself up: Okay Pines. You can do this! Just, reach for his hand and gently grasp it. Just like how he does with you.....

Stanley struggling to hold Fiddleford's hand blushing brightly and flustered

Fiddleford notices his boyfriend getting all red and fidgeting his hands nervously to hold his hand

Fiddleford mentally like a lovesick teenager: Heh cute. 💕

Fiddleford gently grabs Stanley's hand and continues to vibe while Stanley turns incredibly red and stares at their interlinked hands

Stanley mentally while combusting on the spot: You did it.

[uno-san]

Jerry's costume turned out tighter than expected, WHOOPS

Also little bonus here at the bottom since I wanted to mess around with a new brush I got. I actually really like this??? more experimentation to come....

[wittymumbledon]

Hello! Hey, would you be so kind to draw young stanford and young fiddleford as space cowboys?

(Here's some refs that show a bit better what I wanted ya to go for)

I love 19th century clothes in all their varieties and I love retro scifi (wouldn't have started my comic if I didn't fhdhjdhjdfhj) - and clearly i've been aching for more cowboy art (and for another excuse to draw college era fidds) - cause this was really fun HGDFGHDGH

Hope I did your idea justice!

[thicc-ray-of-sunshine]

Does Your Mother Know?

Posting this on here since it's already up on AO3. I'll update this once I have the smut also but for now it's PG.

Summary:

Stan's first time back in Boston in more than 30 years. While trying to make his own fun some young wild thing approaches him at a bar, good thing he knows better. Right?

It was really weird being back in the city. Hell, he hadn't been in Boston for more than 40 years. Obviously he didn't really have much of an opportunity to travel after his second falling out with Ford, but before the portal he had been banned from the state entirely. For what he couldn't really remember, time sort of just slipped together after all these years. Plus some of his memories were still a jumbled mess knocking around in his skull even more than a year after the whole Weirdmaggedon escapade. Regardless, it didn't matter anymore since Ford had made a nice little arrangement with the Feds after the fact to wipe both their records clean from any and all of the criminal activity.

He wasn't quite sure what to do with himself now. They were making a pit stop here so that Ford could meet up with an associate, a doctor of some kind, someone he knew from his years in college. Didn't matter and it wasn't his business.

He needed a break from spending every waking second with Ford anyway and in all honesty he really didn't have the patience in him to wait out all the nerd talk that was bound to happen between the two. So here he was, wandering around the streets of downtown Boston aimlessly. He briefly considered going to a bar but a cursory glance around himself told him that most, if not all of the surrounding dives were college spots. He already felt out of place enough in the young crowd in his meandering outside, he'd stick out like a sore thumb actually in one of these places. A sour look crossed his face as he imagined himself sitting at a bartop, a room thrumming much too loudly with some pop song he'd never even heard of, shoulder to shoulder with kids just barely old enough to drink. No thanks, he'd pass on that. Maybe one of the Irish pubs? He cast a look at one of them, peering through the over the top banded windowpanes. Yeah, not interested.

Turning on his heel he started the trek back to the boat, it wasn't too far from where he was. Ford's doctor friend had directed them to berth her right past the aquarium where all them fancy yachts and houseboats were. He tried hard not to think about how lonely he was inevitably going to feel when he got there and Ford was still gone. Maybe he'd make the most out of it and grab a couple beers on his way back, make his own fun so to speak. While contemplating what kind of beer he should grab and from what cornerstore something caught his eye.

It was a woman. She looked completely out of place, possibly more than he did. Actually to be more accurate she looked out of time as she stood next to him. She looked like she had walked straight out of the late seventies. Wearing a wispy little dress that didn't go anywhere near her knees with long flouncy sleeves that fluttered as she walked and paired with a set of off white platform gogo-boots that accentuated her legs in a way that made his knees weak. He watched as she snapped her head right and then left; checking the street. Her hair bounced with the movement, swishing in the wind as she crossed. He was still watching as she met up with another similarly dressed woman outside of what appeared to be a nightclub or some adjacent venue, bouncing giddly as she brought the other woman into a tight hug before turning to the bouncer. Stan was in far too much of a trance to really feel creepy about the whole situation.

Looking up he could see the sign above the place, below the colorful lettering that labeled the building there was one of those old movie theater signs that told you what show was playing. In big black letters it read “Gimme Gimme Disco. Disco Night Tonite, $20.” He laughed to himself. Casting his gaze back downward he found that this somewhat-less-mystery-woman had gone inside, leaving him to consider his options. Without too much thought past ‘ah what the hell’, he crossed the street and reached into his jacket pocket for his wallet.

He was at least dressed for the occasion he thought as he crossed the threshold. He had on a pair of camel colored slacks with a matching suede jacket, brown leather shoes and a burgundy dress shirt. He had felt the need to be well dressed among Stanford's colleagues, wanting to seem more dignified than he actually was. He shook the nasty thoughts of his self worth out of his head as he walked towards the bar, unbuttoning the top three buttons of his dress shirt and adjusting the gold medallion around his neck.

Observing the scenery he could see that this was typically a music venue for small shows. There was a small stage area with a pit surrounded by a more elevated surface that wrapped around up to the stage where there was a full bar against both walls. Correct in his earlier assumption, the majority of the crowd was young, probably college age. Among them were some people his age, possibly a bit younger. There was no real congregation of the older folks in any particular place, which he had somewhat hoped for but oh well. He wasn't really planning on talking to many people anyway, just here for something interesting to do and a couple overpriced drinks. To soak up the feelings of nostalgia for a bygone era and wash away the lingering feelings of inadequacy with some most likely watered down liquor.

There weren't too many people actually sitting at the bar, most just taking their drink straight to the dance floor. So it was pretty easy for him to just sit and observe while he nursed a twelve dollar whiskey sour. The music was loud, enough to feel it in his bones as it rattled up his body from where his feet touched the floor but not enough to make his eardrums pop. Currently they were playing ‘Hot Stuff’ by Donna Summers which the women in particular seemed to enjoy.

It was a sea of glitter, bell-bottoms, boots and blazers. Every shirt was low cut, every skirt and pant flared. It was truly amazing how people could accurately recreate the discotheque look, hell even the smell of cheap cologne and hairspray was period-accurate. He had a feeling that this was a regular thing for some of the people here. He could see some clearly vintage pieces, all tassels and suede amongst a fair amount of cheesy Halloween costumes that just screamed tacky. As long as people were having fun he mused

He'd been there for a good bit into an hour before he saw you again. You hair was tousled and your face was flushed with exertion, clearly you had been dancing and perhaps a little tipsy. He watched you as you waited in line for a drink. You were still swaying a little bit to the music, the skirt of your dress fluttering hypnotizingly around your thighs. Stan shook his head, he shouldn't be looking at you like that, he didn't want to come off as some creepy old geezer. He really couldn't help it though, something about you was just mesmerizing to him.

You had made it to the front of the line, chunky earrings clacking loudly as your head snapped towards the direction of the person manning the bar. You said something to them that he couldn't make out, a compliment maybe, as you fished out cash from your small purse. He turned back to his drink sitting on the bar next to his arm, taking a lingering sip before going back to people watching. His breath caught in his throat when he looked up.

You were looking at him. Your pretty eyes sparkled, refracting the various colored lights that bounced across the room, as you flashed a coy little simper his way before making your way back out into the crowd with two drinks in your hand. For some reason seeing you with that second drink left a bad taste in his mouth. The idea that you had already found somebody to spend your night with came with a certain displeasure that he had no right to feel. Not for someone so young. You looked young at least, no more than late twenties he'd wager. Not being able to help himself; his eyes found you again.

You were leaning against the far wall near the stage area, talking rather animatedly to an equally young man. Your hand was on his shoulder as you leaned up to practically yell something into his ear, the music to loud to communicate in any other way. Stan's grip tightened on the cup in his hand, watching you give the man a cheeky look as he laughed at whatever you said. He didn't know why he felt jealous, he truly had no reason to be and he felt gross in doing so. He chalked it up to him feeling lonely and being surrounded by the echos of his youth, making him feel a tad emotional. One thing he couldn't blame it on was the alcohol, having only just started his second drink of the night. Feeling that much more sober when your eyes met his again through the throng of people.

This time however you did not pivot in your heels and sink into the crowd. His eyes followed you as you clapped the man on the shoulder, telling him something before settling your gaze back to where he sat at the bar. Stan felt panicked and feverish as you strode gracefully across the club floor towards him. He feared briefly that you were coming over to tell him off, yell at him maybe for being some perverted old creep. However, these thoughts were dashed as you threw him that look again, that same little smile from before. You were interested, he realized. He felt a nervous sweat bearing at the back of his neck at the thought as you hopped up onto the barstool next to him, placing an arm on the counter to balance your chin in your hand flawlessly.

“Well hey there stranger. Don't think I've ever seen your face in here before “

You batted long black eyelashes at him, the glitter on your eyelids shining bright in the club lighting. He swallowed back his nervousness as he remembered how to be suave.

"Just passin through.”

Deciding to play along, he turned up the charm. What harm could some casual flirting do? He took another long sip of his drink, lilting a brow at you as his lips turned into a smirk.

“Now tell me, what's got some hot young thing like yourself comin and talkin to an old man?”

He looked at you from over his drink, eyebrow still raised playfully as you smiled dazzlingly and put your index finger on your chin thoughtfully; pretending to think about it.

“I just thought you looked like a good time.”

The look you pegged him with had his throat feeling extremely dry despite the alcohol still on his tongue. He must've made a face because you laughed and patted the space on the bartop next to his hand

“It's alright sweetheart I don't bite.”

You waved your hand dismissively, clearing the air. The comment didn't make him any less nervous but he could feel the adrenaline zipping up his spine and mixing with the alcohol in his system; dispelling any real anxiety. He could play this game.

“Ya got a name Sugar? Or ya gunna leave me in suspense?”

He grinned as you cocked your head at him and let out an airy little laugh. Straightening your posture and shot out your hand to him, offering your name. He gave you his name in return, shaking your outstretched hand in his own larger one. Your hands were soft against his, long painted nails scratching gently against his palm as you withdrew.

“So Stan, what brings you to my part of town?”

His name sounded good in your mouth, sticky sweet as your free hand drew circles aimlessly onto the countertop with your nails. You listened intently as he told you about his twin brother, his big wig doctor friend and his afternoon in the city. You both chatted for a little while longer, joking and laughing together with ease. His nervousness had completely dissipated and was replaced by flirty banter.

Unfortunately this couldn't last. He was far too old for you. He had tried to sneak a peek at your ID when you had flashed it to the bartender when he bought you another drink but his cataracts wouldn't allow him to read the nearly miniscule text there. Even without that information he knew you were still far too young for him to be chasing, even if you were interested in him. That on its own was hard to believe, even with your hand placed atop his own on the bar. He was just too old.

His train of thought came to a grinding halt as a hand appeared on your shoulder; it was the man from before. He could feel his right eye twitch behind the frames of his glasses as the guy leaned down and closer to your ear to whisper something to you. His gut twisted as he watched you laugh and hit his lithe shoulder, the hand that was touching his own moving from its place as you stood up and brushed the wrinkles out of your dress. He forced a smile onto his face and schooled his expression when you put a hand on his shoulder, winking at him.

“You've been a real peach Stan. I'll try to catch you in a bit, I've still gotta make my rounds. It would seem I'm a very popular lady tonight.”

You gave him a little wave as you turned, hand in hand with the smooth young man to your left before disappearing into the thicket of dancing bodies on the main floor. He couldn't help but feel disappointed, the sudden lack of company opening up a hole in his chest that stung.

He felt foolish, some like some old man trying desperately to reclaim some part of his youth. Deciding to be an adult for once, he sighed and leaned heavily against the wall behind him.

It had been probably about thirty minutes since he had last seen you, popping in and out of conversations with probably about a dozen different people. It made him feel a little better knowing that you were actually a hot commodity and not just trying to find an out from talking to him. It wasn't hard to imagine that that's what you were. You were beautiful after all; and from what he could tell, witty and extremely amicable. It was rather enjoyable seeing you find friends wherever you found yourself within the space, even if it made him feel a little less special.

Out of the corner of his eye, through the mist of sequence and bell sleeves he caught a glimpse of that fluttery little dress again; finding you in the middle of the dancefloor. He was surprised to see you by yourself there after he had seen you chat up so many people. He watched as you swayed your arms and hips to the rhythm of the song, dancing gracefully under the light of the disco ball above you; shimmering almost angelically as the sleeves of your dress twirled around you.

The track switched again. From the first few notes and the peppy instrumentals he could tell it was another ABBA song.

"You're so hot, teasing me

So, you're blue, but I can't take a chance on a chick like you

That's something I couldn 't do"

The irony of his current predicament paired with the song choice was not lost on him; though he was left little time to think about it. His breath caught in his throat again as your head snapped back to the bar almost viciously, looking directly at the spot where you two had been chatting earlier. He observed with rapt attention as your eyes surveyed the surrounding area; landing square on him.

"There's that look in your eyes

I can read in your face that your feelings are driving you wild

Ah, but girl, you're only a child"

Your face breaks into a wide grin when you spot him, clearly very amused that he was looking at you already. You tossed a rather saucy look his way and started walking towards him. He just barely contained the lunch in his stomach that told him to run as you reached where he had perched himself. Wasting no time, you grabbed his arm and leaned in so your voice would reach his ears.

“Come dance with me!”

He very nearly gaped at you, just barely managing to keep a cool exterior as you hung off his arm. Not quite being able to grasp that you still wanted to spend time with him. He couldn't. More accurately, he shouldn't. He should walk away right now and leave you and your perfect self behind and go straight back to his boat. That's what he should do, but alas he was never a man known for his restraint. He knew he was a goner when you batted those big (Y/E/C) at him and fluttered your lashes exaggeratedly, feeling his restraint wash off of him like rain.

“Sure thing Sugar.”

He let you lead him to the dancefloor, eyes glittering with excitement. He couldn't help but match your giddiness as he slid next to you.

“Alright Stan, show me what you got!”

You were beaming at him as you started swaying your hips to the beat. This was something he could do, something to impress you. With a flash of teeth and a wink he found his rhythm.

"Well, I can dance with you, honey, if you think it's funny

Does your mother know that you're out?

And I can chat with you, baby, flirt a little maybe

Does your mother know that you're out?"

He was still painfully aware of the song choice and the situation he had let himself get into as he widened his stance. Moving with a surprising amount of grace as he put his limbs to work at a very impressive rendition of the hustle, bumping his hips in time with the music. You clapped wildly when he did a little spin, ending tastefully with his right arm pointing towards the ceiling above.

“Wow Stan! You've been holding out on me! If I knew you were this good I would have dragged you down here earlier.”

Stan felt his chest puff out with pride, your praise going straight to his head; among other places. Now he felt in his element, feeling like the smooth young man he once was; being transported back into a time where such an interaction was not particularly uncommon for him. It was exhilarating to say the least, he really was having a great time.

"Take it easy (take it easy)

Better slow down, girl

That's no way to go

Does your mother know?"

Your bodies were nearly touching now. He could see the shimmer of the lipgloss you were wearing as you mouthed the lyrics. Lights bounced off of the glitter of your now hooded eyelids, further attracting his attention the sultry look you held there. Said look pinned him in place for a moment before you grabbed him by the collar, pulling him into you. While doing so you faltered a bit on your feet, so, dutifully he placed his hand on the small of your back to keep you afloat.

“Dance with me.”

He tried to keep it polite, he really did. Even in the haze of the alcohol the words of the song rang loudly through his skull as he tried to remember. It was difficult, his brain sending him a million signals when you stared almost hungrily back at him.

"I can see what you want

But you seem pretty young to be searching for that kind of fun

So maybe I'm not the one"

Briefly, he feared his heart would stop beating in his chest when you brought your bottom lip between your teeth and batted those gorgeous eyes up at him again when he dipped you low. Again he tried to remember himself, the lyrics in the song a clear reflection of the thoughts he should be having. He twirled you around again so he didn't have to face the intense look you were giving him, and to stop himself from thinking about how soft your lips would be against his own.

"Now you're so cute, I like your style

And I know what you mean when you give me a flash of that smile (smile)

But girl, you're only a child"

When you were facing him again your eyes were closed, a soft laugh leaving your parted lips as you let him guide your movements, clearly reveling in his attentions. You cracked your eyes open at him, winking as you let your hand slither up to the lapels of his jacket, grasping the smooth fabric between your fingers.

“I really like this song. It's my favorite one of theirs.”

Your lips just barely touched his earlobe when you spoke, he could barely hear you above the music and the thumping of his irrational heart. His pulse thudded loud in his head as your hand slipped down to trace around the medallion sitting on his sternum.

"You know what else I like?"

"Well, I can dance with you, honey, if you think it's funny

Does your mother know that you're out?

And I can chat with you, baby, flirt a little maybe

Does your mother know that you're out?"

Your lips finally brushed the shell of his ear, sending a shudder zinging down his spine and raising alarm bells inside his puddle of a brain.

“You.”

One word. One word was all it took to rip the very last vestiges of his restraint as he finally gave into his desires to take you up on your very clear interest.

"Take it easy (take it easy)

Better slow down, girl

That's no way to go

Does your mother know?"

“I think this song fits us pretty well don't you?”

Instead of responding, he decided to beat you at your own game. Catching the hand you had on his chest he brought it to his lips, barely brushing the skin of your knuckles as he watched you blush. Instead of placing a kiss there; he kept you on your toes, quite literally, as he spun you around by the hand he had stolen. Stan took full advantage of it, using the momentum to twirl you right into his arms, completely flush to his chest. You stared wide eyed at him before narrowing them, a somewhat smug smile fighting it's way onto your face.

“You sly old dog I knew you had it in you!”

You lips had tilted up into a small smirk as you regarded him with a mildly sardonic expression, giggling a bit. He laughed with you, tension oozing out of his body along with his inhibitions and any common sense as your other hand found his waist.

"Take it easy (take it easy)

Try to cool it, girl

Take it nice and slow

Does your mother know?"

“Yeah this dog knows a few tricks, s’pecially for a sweet thing like you.”

His hand smoothed slowly down your waist, faintly playing with the pleats in your dress as they moved lower to skim the hemline teasingly. Your throat went dry and you felt a little off kilter, feeling the control you had on the situation slip between dainty fingers. You wouldn't let go that easily though.

“Like what?”

You leaned back a bit, peering up at him through you lashes and watching intently as his adams apple bobbed in his throat. After a moment he matched you flawlessly.

“Ain't nothin I can do here Dollface.”

The hand on your dress flexed, emphasizing his not at all innocuous statement. Clearly a switch has been flipped somewhere and you had every intention of seeing just how far you could take it.

“Come with me.”

You weren't listening to the song anymore, you knew how it ended. It didn't matter that it was your favorite; what mattered was the hand you were pulling and the man attached to it following you through the horde of people crowding the dance floor. Pushing your way through the masses with a singular focus and holding tightly onto the hand in your grasp.

The cool night air was a welcome change from the stuffiness of the air inside the club. The breeze was pleasant on your flushed skin and a balm to your inebriated state. Stan seemed to have similar thoughts as he found his place beside you, closing his eyes and sucking in a breath.

“Ya sure ya wanna do this?”

He ran a hand through his hair in an exasperated gesture. You could see the trepidation in his face, clearly a part of him still on the fence about the whole thing. Delicately you took a hold of both of his hands, squeezing gently while looking into his eyes.

“Very, but I'm not gonna hold it against you if you're uncomfortable Stan. We don't have to do anything you don't want to.”

He shook his head at you. You were really too sweet, he really didn't deserve it. He let you reach out to him, to take his face in your hands as he leaned down to close the distance. The kiss was just as sweet as you were although extremely chaste. Just testing out the waters and nothing more. His brown eyes burned into yours from where they loomed above you, just inches away behind the thick frames of his glasses. One of your hands slipped forwards to tangle in the hair at the base of his neck, rubbing the skin there, watching as his lips split into a grin briefly before his mouth was on yours again. The second kiss was even better; Stan seemed more confident and sure against you. Lips sliding over and between your own leisurely as your mouths molded together into new and interesting shapes. You found that you had zero qualms when Stan's tongue pressed against the seam of your lips, humming contentedly as you let him pass.

Tongues danced languidly together, his hands finding their place; his right on your waist and then his left snaking into your hair to pull you infinitesimally closer. Both your cheeks were rosy when you pulled away, lips slightly puffy from kissing as you both caught your breath. When you opened your eyes Stan was already looking at you, his gaze smoldering and accompanied by a rather sultry smirk.

“So, yer place or mine? I ain't got a problem with makin the boat rock with ya.”

Stan let out a breezy chuckle, his new self assured countenance unruffled by his scandalous comment that had your blush intensifying tenfold. His hand on your waist slipped downward to sit teasingly just above your ass while his other played with the ends of your hair.

“Mine. It's less walking and I don't actively live in the same room as my twin brother.”

You laughed and poked his chest chidingly, forefinger lingering to trail through his exposed chest hair.

“I'll even pay your train fare, think of that.”

That pulled another laugh from him, his barreled chest jostling slightly under your hand to release it.

‘Y’wanna get me in yer bed that badly huh Sugar?”

He raised an eyebrow at you in a playful manner, voice dropping an octave into a sexy little rasp that put a pulse between your legs.

“Among other places Mr.Pines.”

Your voice was a honeyed purr, eyes twinkling with mischief as you hooked your index finger through the gold chain around his neck, pulling him that much closer. Calling him that did more for him than he was willing to acknowledge, feeling his cock twitch in his pants at the honorific.

“Careful now Sweetheart or we ain't gonna make it that far.”

The hand in your hair moved to skim your jaw with his knuckles lightly, you nipped at his thumb when it brushed against your lips.

"Promises, promises. Saddle up then cowboy, we got a rodeo to get to. C'mon follow me."

Your tone was light, chastising, as you pulled yourself from his grasp, cheekily squeezing the hand above your ass.

"Lead the way Toots."

His grin was wide, gesturing ahead of himself to urge you to direct him to your dwelling. Snatching his hand in yours, you pulled him along.

[ranaeley]

2 and 43

(Assuming this is for THIS challenge) Number 2 and 43 are Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy by Queen, and HOT TO GO by Chappell Roan. I chose the second! I can't explain my thought process with deciding on Bill for this, lmao. Probably has something to do with an animatic of him that I saw for this song. Either way it was fun :D

Well, I woke up alone staring at my ceiling I try not to care but it hurts my feelings You don't have to stare, come here, get with it No one's touched me there in a damn hot minute

[triangular-static]

now that i've lured all 5 of you here with discussion of the triangle have some sketches of me figuring out how i want to draw mabel. mabel appreciation squad always and forever

oh and bill's still here too

[cryptic-underground]

Bonus lil Stan that I probably won't use but I just had to:

It's like almost 3 am, but take some sketches that I did in the same one hour (ish) time span!

The first two are for a bigger something whilst the third is purely of Drag Queen Stan indulgence :)))

[bforbroadway]

is bill still a sexyman?

[sunniskyies]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐥𝐦𝐬 || 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐏𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 || 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟑

𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭: - 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Bill’s schemes try once more to tear you two apart. But Ford swears that nothing will come between you again, not even the end of the world. 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Ford Pines x fem!reader 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Show-typical injury 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬: Reunion, fluff, romanceeeee 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.9k 𝐀/𝐍: Weirdmageddon time! I know I could’ve written about the date, but I want to wrap this up neatly. Everyone’s support has been amazing, I haven’t written in a while so thank you so much for reading! (I rewatched the Weirdmageddon episodes for this so it should be pretty accurate? Although maybe a tad dramatic but that’s just my flare)

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏 > 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐 > 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟑 > 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟒

It has been a good few weeks since Ford returned. The best few weeks. Even before Ford fell through the portal he was never this romantic, the scientist now reduced to flushed cheeks and soft hands reaching out whenever he saw you. Even when you were a little ways apart, you’d catch him staring at your profile, or coming up from his work just to place a silent kiss on your forehead. You giggle and shove him playfully, but you truly enjoy the little gestures. In return for the vases of wildflowers and cups of steaming coffee you wake up to find on your bedside cabinet, you’ve begun to annotate the books you read, hiding them around the shack for Ford to find. To your delight, when you go down to the basement to touch base with him, you tend to find the book you left the very night before open-paged to the side of his desk.

The man makes you dizzy. Electrified yet soporific, thrilled yet comfortable. Your lives have re-entwined together after far too long apart, and it can’t be more perfect. You will spend the rest of your life with the man you love, safe and content in his arms.

For Ford, he will spend the rest of his life ensuring nothing will come in the way of that happening.

You were in the forest, swabbing the cheeks of a local colony of redcaps for a research paper on gnomish tuberculosis, when a wave of nausea floods over you. The sunlight pierces, fractured, through your eyelids, a kaleidoscope of colour and madness.

As the feeling subsides, you realise that the wave wasn’t purely physical; there really was a vivid wave of madness washing down the Gravity Falls basin.

As you stand stock still, squinting eyes trying to work out what the hell that was, the notebook in your hand begins to quiver.

Looking down, you’re horrified to see that the bendy little writing pad has sprouted beady eyes and a gaping mouth, and is ripping out its own pages.

“GAH!” You squeal, dropping the notebook like it’s hot to the mossy floor. The loose papers now scattered around must be like some fucked-up version of reproduction for the crazed notebook, because each of them have eyes of their own. They begin swirling towards your ankles, small gnawing sounds being emitted as they bite into your ankles with sharp little teeth.

“EEEE! Get off of me!” You scream, shaking out your legs hopelessly as the pages seemingly multiply, crawling up your legs until your lower half resembles a mummy. Tiny teeth like acid on skin.

The madness continues, your tearing hands useless as you’re cocooned in note paper. Your screams are muffled, and you soon slip into unconsciousness. The last thing you see through the gaps in the paper is a large cross in the sky.

Bill.

Cool air trickles into your mouth, your aching lungs reacting by attempting to suck every molecule of oxygen from the atmosphere. Choking on the stink of smog, you try to open your stinging eyes and rip the swathes of paper from your skin. Your second pair of hands quickly help you peel the sweat-soaked sheets from your face.

Wait.

“Whoa, whoa dude. Calm down, breathe.” Startled, your cloudy vision tries to focus on the face of the person helping you. His face is shadowed from the soupy, apocalyptic sunlight. His hands are deftly stripping you of your papery scales.

“Who—” Your hand tentatively rubs your throat when your voice comes out a hoarse gargle. “Who are you?”

“Oh, dude! It’s me,” Soos pulls back his hood. “Handyman of the apocalypse, at your service!”

You sag with relief. “Soos! Thank god,” you say, pulling him in for a hug. “Where are we? How… long was I out?” The landscape around you is barren, a strange wasteland.

“I don’t know, ‘found you here just now. We’re a few days into Weirdmageddon, if that helps jog your memory?” Soos replies sympathetically. You must look like a wreck.

“A few days? I— How— How have I survived so long?” The binding around your mouth and nose was surely tight enough to prevent air getting in completely, your body quickly losing consciousness. Your tissue should’ve experienced hypoxia within the first few hours, yet your cognitive functions seem fine. How did you not succumb to asphyxiation? During the period of time suggested, the symptoms of dehydration and exposure would’ve surely exacerbated the danger of this situation exponentially! It’s a paradox of biological resilience! A miracle! “There must have been some sort of supernatural intervention. Bill’s presence in our realm suggests an anomaly, this ‘Weirdmageddon’… I’m just not sure. I’d need my notes, and more data. Surely other people experienced what I did?” You vocalise, rhetorically.

Soos looks a little lost. “I don’t know, dude. But I have been helping stragglers for the past few days, and it seems to me anyone affected by those weirdness bubbles and that wack-o wave recover just fine. I think Bill’s magic things are really just illusions that mess with your brain?” He offered.

“Fascinating,” you murmur. “If only Ford was here, between us he’s the expert in anomalous— Wait, Ford!” You break off, jumping to your feet. “God, where’s Ford? Have you seen him?”

Soos shakes his head. “I’m sorry, I haven’t seen him.” You sag, heart split and stinging like your chapped lips. “But, hey dude, I think we should worry about that later… there are two suspiciously car-shaped dots speeding this way.”

Looking over your shoulder, you see that Soos is correct. Two vehicles are erratically approaching, slamming into each other with thuds that reverberate across the flatland. You hold onto his hand as you wait to face what’s going on; you’re in the middle of the apocalypse, there isn’t anywhere to run if there’s trouble. You have to face it head on.

“Not-Mrs-Pines?”

“Yes, Soos?”

“You were totally nerding out just now,” he says. “You and Mr. Pines are really perfect for each other, y’know?”

You smile softly. “Yeah, we are, aren’t we?”

𝐋𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫

Bill laughs through Ford’s howls, unrelenting as the man is bombarded by electricity. “Ready to talk now?” The demon cackles, Stanford limp in the shackles around his wrists.

Ford’s voice is husky, body spent, but he is equally as resolute. “I won’t. I won’t let you into my mind!”

Bill rolls his eye, spinning to survey the minions crowded around him. Pointed tongues slide hungrily over teeth, gleaming talons fidget eagerly. “What do you think pals? Another 500 volts?!” The triangle calls. His kinsmen jeer in response.

Bill raises a finger, sparks flickering on the tip. As he lowers his arm to direct it at the dying man, a thunder shakes the chamber. His body rotates, form quickly turning red as he sees that blasted Mystery Hack interrupting his interrogation. Large animatronic arms and legs have turned the building into a Demon-Quasher-3000. Who do you think you are?!

You're standing at one of the small windows, Mabel’s friend controlling the limbs via a motion capture suit. You’re her eyes, telling her what to do from your viewpoint. 

“Candy! 8-Ball on your ten o’clock!” You shout.

With a grunt, Candy takes him out with a powerful swing. For the first time since Dipper, Wendy, Soos and you regrouped and found the Mystery Shack, faith flares in your chest. The machine is working! We’re coming for you, Ford.

McGucket’s monstrosity really does work perfectly. One by one it picks off the interdimensional hellspawn, craters appearing in the wasteland’s dry earth. You clutch the windowpane tighter with every jolt, knuckles pale. At one point your eye catches them, lingering on your ringless finger. For the second time in your life, you think about how as soon as you get yourselves out of here, Ford better get his act together or you’ll get down on one knee yourself!

Up in Bill’s palace, the demon is livid. “One job! They had one job!”

Ford’s body has perked up, eyes shiny with hope. Bill does not miss this, eye narrowing as he examines the man.

“Well,” he drawls, “would you look at that! Those playthings of yours really care about you. And you care about them, don’t you!?”

Ford’s breath catches. “What are you— No. Oh, no!” Sweat beads on his forehead, fists clenched and trembling. Bill Cipher, however, was quivering with barely contained glee.

“Perhaps torturing those kids will make you talk!” He taunts giddily, floating behind Ford and gently lifting his chin to point his gaze at the Mystery Shack. He leans into his ear, “or… say, Fordsy, how about that doll of yours?”

“No, not her! Cipher, you can’t—” Ford’s cry is silenced as he turns gold inside out, his shimmering figure a cruel contrast to the horror twisting his features.

“You don’t tell me what to do, Sixer.” Bill says, not looking back. Looking out at the shack malevolently, he cracks his fingers. “Now. Let’s get this over with.”

A chill washes through you as you enter the chamber, behind you the Mystery Shack attempts to ward off Bill. You brace your legs as your vibrant parachute sets you down on the concrete, but you still fall over.

“Plegh!” You bite your tongue as your jaw hits the floor, and you lay still for a moment waiting for the breath to return to your body.

“It looks even worse in person,” you hear Dipper say. Looking up, you see he’s right. A throne of petrified corpses looms above you, the townsfolk’s pupiless faces staring out. You immediately look for Ford.

“Ford? Can anyone see him? Is he in a separate room?” You immediately start questioning, hauling yourself to stand and looking around. The cracks in your heart deepen. “Ford?”

Mabel grits her teeth, “on it!” She raises her grappling hook, pulling her up to the dias.

A moment goes by, and then another. Your heart is almost done crawling up your throat when Mabel calls out.

“I found him! He’s golden!” Her face peeks over the edge. “But… not in the good way!”

Mable disappears again, and Dipper is quickly helped up to join her. The rest of the team agrees that you’re the next to go.

With the help of a grappling hook and four twelve-year-old hands, you join them at the top. 

There, on the arm of the throne, is the love of your life, gilded and frozen in time.

“Oh, Ford!” You croak. Dipper places a reassuring hand on your arm. You smile back at him, bravely stepping forward to try and get Stanford out of this mess.

The twins quickly notice a young boy trapped in a cage, his shoes clinking against the suspended metal floor. While they discuss something, you examine the base of the throne, squinting skyward as you try to find a way up.

While studying the structure, you fail to notice the twin’s warning before it’s too late. One victim is pulled from the edifice, and the entire thing begins to collapse. Your shout of surprise is swallowed as a cascade of bodies covers you, burying you in the screaming mass.

Disturbed by the chaos, the golden stature of Ford Pines is released from its curse, his body doubling over from relief. Dipper and Mabel quickly locate him, rushing to his side to support him.

Ford coughs, the pain from the electrocutions still ailing him. “Kids! Thank heavens you’re okay!” Despite himself, he scoops them both up, hugging them tightly.

“Great Uncle Ford! We’ve got him distracted, but Bill could get here any minute! You said you knew his weakness..?” Dipper asks.

“Yeah! A secret way to defeat him?” Mabel chimes in. Ford pauses.

“Yes, I do. But— kids, where’s ____?” Ford asks, dread leaching into his features as his eyes dart around.

Dipper’s face pales, his eyes darting toward the remnants of Bill's psychotic throne. “I... I don’t know. She was with us a moment ago.”

“She was here?!” Ford cries, hastening over to the wreckage. A thousand unknown bodies are searching around for their loved ones, but Ford’s eyes are only looking for you. His voice carries above everyone else’s cries, your name echoing the loudest through the chamber. Frantic hands part bodies, his search not sparing a second to apologise for treaded-on fingers or too-rough shoves.

Little did Ford know you were 538 bodies away on the other side of the carnage, battered and bruised, trying to muster up a cry loud enough to ask for help. There are too many people on top of you, and every effort you give to rise to the surface is hopeless as others tamp you back down in their own attempts.

Buried and afraid, your last hope is to peel off Ford’s red turtleneck you’d been wearing and try to use it as a beacon. You’d put it on upon reaching the Mystery Shack, as it still smelled like your beloved’s scent of pine, parchment, and ink. Now, you ball it up in your fist and use all your energy to push it through the tumult, its scarlet fabric disappearing to the surface.

You curl up into a ball, eyes scrunched shut as you wait for unguaranteed help. You don’t even know whether Ford got saved…

“Great Aunt ____!” The twins call, nimbly hopping through the human rubble. People are slowly recovering and dispersing, only a few pockets are left.

“____?” Stanley echoes without much conviction, internally battling the helplessness he feels. However, his brother’s search grows more frantic with every passing minute. Ford felt he was going mad at the thought of losing you, not after finally getting you back.

A flash of red hauls him immediately from his spiral.

“The sweater!” Mabel’s excited voice repeats his thoughts moments after. “That’s her sweater!”

In retrospect, Ford never remembers travelling over to it. He just remembers picking up the turtleneck, looking around for your face. He remembers his hands wrapping around you and hauling you into his arms. He remembers pressing a messy kiss to your lips, eyes brushing over your form for injury.

“My dearest,” he mumbles quietly into your hair, his eyes closed as his skin presses to yours. You're too exhausted to cry, but Ford holds you as if you are. He’s a restless soul, hands always fidgeting for a new project, so when you hug his fingers are always moving; gentle swirls on your lower back, combing through your hair as you kiss him. You sink into this familiar touch, hoping that he understands your wordless relief by the way your fingers trace his jaw, sinking to smooth then grip his coat’s lapel.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” you murmur eventually, looking up into his face. The shadows from your youth have reappeared beneath his eyes, his hair is mussed, his jaw bears a rough shadow. Your eyebrows crease. “What did he do to you,” you whisper.

His eyes are weary, yet they look at you so very softly. “Please, let’s not talk of him right now.” He gently takes one of your hands from his chest, delicately cupping it like a precious stone. His eyes don’t leave yours while he presses his lips to your knuckles. His hand lingers, thumb brushing over your fingers thoughtfully. “Do you know what else I was retrieving from the alien bunker? The afternoon the rift cracked?”

You’re taken aback by the abrupt change of subject, and the deepness swirling in Ford’s pupils. It’s like he’s staring straight through you. Hesitantly, you humour him. “You mean, other than the adhesive?”

Ford hums a confirmation, eyes still glued to you.

You’re trying to think, but his finger swirling absently over the top of one of your left fingers is awfully distracting. “Mmm… I don’t know, honey,” you attempt.

He smiles again, bringing you in for another kiss. Your head is swirling, but before you know it Ford is sinking down to the floor, your hand still resting in his large, warm palm.

He lets out a timid, breathy laugh at the look on your face. You’re slack jawed, staring at your beloved (who has always been much taller than you) bowed on one knee before you.

“Sweetness—” He is interrupted by a sound escaping your lips. “—Sweetness,” he continues fondly. “Before I met you, I was a mess. A terrible, unravelled mess that you carefully wove together.” Your spare hand goes to cover your mouth. “It’s been thirty years since I was last torn from you, thirty years since I fell through that portal while you, my heart, were holding the end of my thread. As I fell through the heavens, I came undone, and quickly comprehended how much I need you, ____. I’m—I’m not as smooth with words as others, but… what I’ve been meaning to say from that moment is… you’ve loved me at my best and my worst; And I want nothing more than to spend the rest of my life trying to be deserving of that.”

With impressively little fumbling, Ford reaches into his interior pocket and extracts a glimmering silver ring, a rich burgundy stone set into it. As it shimmers you swear you see galaxies of stars swirling within.

“Oh Ford,” you breathe, reeling.

“I don’t want any more close calls. ____ __ ____, will you ma—” the rest of the question is mumbled against the lips you press to his, your body crouched down to wrap your arms around his neck. Somewhere in the torrent of kisses that precede, a ‘yes’ is uttered and a ring is blindly slid onto a finger, but really. It’s the end of the world and you just want to kiss your fiancé.

“If we’re all about to die, I’m glad we’re doing it together.”

Ford’s eyes harden defiantly. He rises to stand, offering you a hand to pull you up. “I won’t let that happen.”

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @sleeplessdreamer14 @2hiigh2cry @taffycandyqt @papi-machucha @muffin1304

@snake-in-a-flower-crown @shadowsandswords @darling-eos @bloodspatteredprincess @yasuuuudere

@space1crow @fries11

© sunniskyies 2024, do not repost or translate my work

[mercurycft]

𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐍𝐄 - 𝐋.𝐖

## leah williamson/beth mead x teammate-(ex)reader !! MINIFIC

hi pookies!! i wrote this after watching love actually and I'm still fuming about the whole CD situation iykyk. this is roughly and loosely based on that scene, which is HEARTBREAKINGGGG. this kinda has a cringey ending but my little cringe heart loved it. thank you all for the love recently! i hope you're enjoying all the content. love always - RGx

1.8k words.

emotional. beth being the best best friend. talks of a break up. not proof read.

"you know we dont have to watch it, right?" beth spoke lowly and no louder than a whisper, breaking the silence that had stretched out between you both like a tightrope.

you allowed a small and meaningless smile to crack in the corner of your mouth for a beat as you took a sip of the tea in your hands, eyes still glued to the TV screen. only flicking to beth briefly and for less than a second - as if you were unable to bear the contact. "i know," you admitted. "i want to." you spoke with a fake conviction, leaning forward to lay your mug onto the coffee table.

you watched on in silence, heart hammering in your ears when leah finally came on screen. she looked good, and it pained you to realise. to realise that whilst you're at home, curled up on your sofa, she's out doing brilliant things. you watched as leah sat beside her piano teacher, who you recall fondly after spending many evenings in his company. leah's fingers danced over the piano keys, the camera zooming in to capture the intensity of her practice.

you tried to rid your mind of the hurt for a few minutes, attempting to squash them into microscopic parts of you. you could feel beth's eyes burning holes into the side of your head, but you didn't dare look away for even just a second. scared you would miss something important, or miss her on the screen.

you watched as she prepared for her performance and made her way towards the concert piano, you knew her well enough to tell how nervous she was - breathing uneasy and hands fidgety. the camera followed her every step, until she sat down and found her bearings. as the camera pulled out, you saw the full orchestra behind her, tuning their instruments. you watched on eagerly as the anticipation grew in the room, a storm of nerves brewing in the pit of your stomach.

there was a moment of silence from the tv, before you watched the conductor lift their arms and a chorus of instruments began to play - including leah. as they began to play, it was hard to ignore the hurt bubbling up and into your throat. as her keys fell in perfect unison with the accompanying music, it was like you had been transported back in time.

you can recall it as if it was yesterday - being back in her living room, watching her play it for the first time. she had looked up at you from her spot in front of the keyboard, eyes shy yet hopeful, asking if you liked it. "it's beautiful," you had said, not knowing then that it would become so much more.

leah's eyes remained on the keys as she played, her expression serene. her hair fell around her face like a curtain, obscuring her features slightly. the way it used to fall when you held her close, comforting her after a stressful lesson. it was a stark contrast to the sharpness of her posture now, the determination in her hands as they flew over the piano.

you felt the weight of the moment, the gravity of her talent. the sound of her playing filled the room, swelling like the crescendo of the symphony of your past. you could almost smell the scent of her shampoo, feel the warmth of her skin. your chest tightened and your eyes stung with unshed tears. but you didn't look away. you couldn't. because, as much as it hurt to admit, you were bursting with pride.

beth couldn't bring herself to speak, overly aware of the tears threatening to spill from your eyes. instead, she layed a hand gently and slowly onto the leg pressed close to hers. heaving a quiet sigh as she watched you break for the fifteenth time today.

as the final notes echoed through the speakers, you couldn't help but let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. leah's eyes finally lifted and she took in the applause, her face breaking into a smile that was so familiar and yet so foreign. your heart felt like it was in a vice, but you found yourself smiling back at her, even though she couldn't see you.

you felt beth's hand move to your shoulder, squeezing gently. "are you okay?" she asked. you nodded, not trusting your voice.

"yeah," you whispered back, "i'm okay." but you weren't. not really. you were just watching your past play out on live television, painfully reminded of what you could never get back.

the show continued, but you couldn't focus on anything else. the music had left a hollow space inside of you that only leah could fill. you looked at beth, her eyes filled with sympathy and something else. "you know it wasn't your fault, don't you?" she spoke softly.

"what?" you replied, trying to shake off the emotional fog that had enveloped you.

beth squeezed your shoulder again, "everything, i mean. she wasn't herself and she was angry at the world. she shouldn't have taken it out on you." her words stung to hear, but deep down you knew she was right. leah had always been driven, always been passionate about her career. it was one of the many things you loved about her. but seeing her up there, so poised and professional, compared to the person she was not even a month ago when things ended between you, was like watching a stranger.

you nodded, swiping at the tears that had escaped. "i know," you murmured. "but i can't help but feel like i just missed something. like i could've been there." beth didn't respond, she just held your hand, her thumb tracing circles on the back of it, offering silent comfort.

the applause from the audience on the telly grew louder as leah took her bow, her cheeks flushed with excitement. you felt a pang of jealousy, watching her revel in the moment, knowing that she has finally caught up with the feeling she had been chasing.

beth's grip on your hand tightened. "you know you can talk to me, right?" she said. her voice was gentle, like a soft summer breeze, trying to soothe the storm in your chest.

you nodded, "i know," you whispered. "but i don't know what to say. it's just…it's a lot." your voice cracked slightly, and you took a deep, shaky breath.

"it's alright to feel this way," beth assured you, her eyes never leaving yours. "you loved her, and she was a part of your life. it's natural to miss her when you see her doing something that makes her seem okay."

you tried to force back the tears that now are fighting for release, held back by nothing more than your waterline. it didn't take long until they began to litter your cheeks. "i miss her," you stammered through a small sob, collapsing into beth's chest as she stoked your back.

"i know." she whispered into your hair, gently rocking the pair of you back and fourth.

"she's still the one,"

[thriftybruce]

I should've known better, its been 12 days and i now have like FIVE drafted comic scripts right now (2 of them thumbnailed and storyboarded grr)

quick heads up, might make another GrFa comic probably next month (or at least before the yr ends)