#right in front of the real stanley at that

[vellichorom]

Do GoreGuts or their parable have a Stanley? Because I don't think rosemary is supposed to be staney anymore right?

THAT'S RIGHT!

TLDR ;; rosemary's fall into the game accidentally knocked stanley OUT of it, leading to his unintentional replacement & his corruption into " the settings person " - also known as " nobody, "

unlike rosemary - who's a flesh & blood human thrust into a digital world, stanley was created by the narrator Mostly as an AI-driven vessel for the player to take hold of & for him to toy with. BUT- now the AI's more or less just fused to the simulated complex & helps keep it running.

BUT YEAH! HE'S THERE STILL. KIND OF !!!!

( you should ask @/tomiechu more about it as they designed the guy !!!! )

[mr-jack-letterman]

We need more young stan content out here.

And nah I ain't talking about 12 year old Stanley or 30 year old mullet Stan, I'm talking 17 year old, slicked back hair, acne riddled Stan pines.

Yeah that one.

I am so happy mullet Stan is so popular because his fit slaps ngl and the angst is so potent I can't not respect it. But teenage Stan has so much potential it's driving me insane.

There is a line dividing the 17 years of relative happiness Stan had with Ford and the 10+ years of depression and crime he had on the streets, and teenage Stan uses that line as a goddamn jump rope.

Seriously, depending on how you look at it dude is either living his best life or is fighting for said life in the trenches of homelessness and poverty.

I see a lot of content regarding Stan on the streets but it only ever focuses on 30ish Stan in his later years of homelessness where he's already a hardened adult after years of dealing with this bullshit. But Stan didn't just drive away and then magically turn 30. There were times in those first few months after Stan got kicked out where he was in his car, trying to sleep, probably starving, while still being fundamentally a child.

Hell, compared to the 30ish age of mullet Stan and the 60+ year old con man he'd later become, teenage Stan is damn near a baby. There's a certain brightness about him, a sort of warm naive optimism that still clings to him because he's straight up just too young to know any better.

He's still fully convinced he's gonna make it rich and go back to his family in a few years. He still believes wholeheartedly that even if shit sucks right now, eventually everything is gonna be okay. It has to be. But it's not gonna be okay. It's not gonna be okay for a long time. And some parts are just never gonna be okay.

Seeing a happy and oblivious teenage Stan feels like watching a baby lamb walk into a slaughter house.

The next 10-something years are going to tear him apart limb from limb. In 40 years he's going to wake up on a boat during a bout of amnesia thinking he's in Columbian prison, or he's locked in the trunk of a car and about to drown, or his shoulder is on fire and his brother is gone, or it's the end of the world and everyone he ever dared to give a shit about is about to die in front of him and it's all his fault because he was too weak to stop it.

At some point, a young Stanley is going to get into his first true life or death fight. He doesn't even have to be involved with crime yet for it to happen. He's probably bruised and bleeding, with not nearly enough money to afford a doctor. He's sitting in the driver's seat of his El Diablo having a complete and utter break down because he almost died and suddenly everything is real.

Nothing is okay, absolutely nothing is going to be okay and whatever is left of his teenage innocence, naivety, and warmth dies in that car and it never comes back.

The next 10+ years are going to fundamentally change Stanley as a person and he's never going to be the same ever again. But teenage Stan doesn't know that, he's still a kid trying to sleep in the back of his car, ignoring hunger pangs and finding comfort in the half baked business ideas his mind cooks up because he doesn't understand how utterly done for he is.

12 year old Stanley I believe is so appealing because of his bright rambunctious spirit. He's still just a kid playing on the beach with his brother, but so was teenage Stan. I just wish the wholesomeness that comes with that and the subsequent hurt that follows as that spirit is broken over and over again by the world was explored more.

Thank you for coming to my Ted talk.

[truefandemonium]

BILLSTILL BILLSTILL

This AU has consumed my mind

Please accept my humble offering to the Bill still community ( @jellynut I totally forgot to credit u I am so sorry)

a mind ensnared pt. 1

a billstill ficlet

(inspired by the AU by @jellynut)

…

“According to my research, and the readings I’m getting— she’ll be just off the coast— the Laptev Sea,” Ford said, adjusting the map in front of him before folding it and pointing in some random direction ahead of them. Stan tipped the wheel idly, raising his brows at his brother.

“Always thought Nessie would be in Scotland. Like the name. Not Norway.” Stan blinked as snow began to fall in soft flurries onto the boat, finding purchase in the tufts of greying hair poking out from the front of his beanie.

“Russia, Stanley,” Ford corrected in his trademark deadpan, judgemental eyes flicking over the rim of his glasses as he shifted his focus away from the roaring waves in the distance. “We’re headed for the coast of Russia.”

“Yeah, whatever, poindexter.” Stan didn’t exactly mean to say it. He could feel Ford tense every time the word slipped from his mouth. When they were kids— the nickname was friendly, affectionate. But after everything happened… everything with Bill…

You called?

Stan cleared his throat loudly, forcing himself to stare up at the falling flakes head on. “Heck of a storm, huh?”

Thank God— Ford laughed at that. “You mean the gust of cold wind that couldn’t constitute a squall? Yes, quite a storm,” the other man agreed.

Stan smiled. He missed this. His whole life: wasted, without his brother. But now, they could finally make up for that lost time.

Lost time. Boy have I heard that one before. But so have you, right Stanley?

Get out of my head. Stan didn’t notice his own knuckles whitening around the wheel. Get out of my head right now or I’ll—

You’ll what, Mystery Man? Yell at me? Hahahahahahahah—

Say, how much do you remember, Stan? Do you remember your favorite food? How about the shirt you wore everyday for a month while waiting for good ol’ Fordsy to come back from the abyss?

Stan sucked in a deep breath, risking shutting his eyes against the wind as the screaming in his head swelled. He can’t hurt you, Stan told himself, starting to sweat despite the cold.

But you remember the important things, don’t you? Like what Pine Tree gave you before he left for home. Or the secret Shooting Star confessed to you and you alone? Come on, tell me you remember that.

Stan opened his eyes and steeled himself. He wouldn’t let some stupid triangle ruin the rest of his life.

You gotta remember what makes you you, though, don’t you? The fact that you were the reason Ford spent half his life in nightmare dimensions. The reason his childhood was spent looking out for you.

No, no, it’s not true. Is it? Did I destroy Ford’s life? Since the beginning?

The reason he’s never been happy. Not even now—

Stan suddenly doubled over, a sharp pain in his skull causing a bright light to rip through his vision. The steering wheel cracked hard against his knuckles as he tried and failed to find purchase somewhere before collapsing.

“Stanley!” Ford was at his side in an instant, knees on the ground as he placed one steadying hand on Stan’s back, and pushed him to kneel with the other. “Stanley—?”

The two men sat in the snowy light of the moon, Stan wheezing, his vision blurred as sweat began to pool in his gloves and drip cooly down the sides of his face. The waters around them began to spin— or at least it felt that way. Despite the endless space beyond the boat, Stan felt the world closing in on him. All set to the sound of distant wicked laughter.

Ford felt cold to his bones, not from the wind or weather, but the look of sheer panic etched into his brother’s face. Stan had few moments of real fear that he let Ford get close enough to see. This… this was one of them.

Ford eased his hold on Stan and watched him slam his palms onto the deck, shaking hard enough to make his dentures clack together. Keeping one six-fingered hand on his brother’s back, Ford started to speak in a slow, soothing tone.

“Stanley, it’s alright, breathe, Stanley,” he muttered, watching Stan’s eyes flick wildly around, the fear clawing at him. He looked like a wounded animal… more specifically a rabbit.

Caught in a snare: the wire tightening with each sharp breath around his throat, Ford’s heart wrenched at the image. “Stanley.” Ford shifted to cup Stan’s jaw in his gloved hand, applying enough pressure to ease his glazy eyes upward.

“I’m right here,” he whispered. Stan’s gaze flickered with something— recognition, but his heaving didn’t cease. Ford continued, “Breathe, Stanley. I’m here.”

“Bill—” Stan choked out, shaking his head hard, trying to recoil from his brother’s gentle touch.

It was like a blade between Ford’s ribs. The name sent a shudder through his spine and blood flashing behind his eyes. Still, he held firm.

“Stanley.” His voice shook as he pulled Stan into his arms, forcing him to still. “Bill is gone.”

Finally, Stan moved. All at once, he barreled forward, wrapping Ford in a tight hug as he sobbed, the heat of his tears soaking into the exposed hair curling around Ford’s neck.

“He’s gone,” Ford repeated. Part of him wanted to believe it.

Part of him knew, even if Bill was gone. The memories were one thing that would never fall away.

…

[darlingdaisyfarm]

best date ever (Stan pines x fem!reader)

A date with Stan, what could go wrong?

You never really knew what to expect from Stanley Pines. After all, this was the same guy who could sell you a so-called "ancient artifact" that turned out to be an old cereal box toy and still convince you it was worth every penny. So when he asked you out, you weren’t exactly sure how it would go. He wasn’t the flowers-and-chocolates type; instead, Stan was. . . well, Stan.

That’s probably what got you here, standing in front of the window, watching the unmistakable silhouette of the Stanmobile pull into your driveway. The thing was pretty loud. You heard the muffler rattle as Stan turned off the engine, and then the door creaked open with a metallic sound that made your eye twitch. A date with Stanley Pines. . . What could possibly go wrong?

Too nervous, you opened the door first before he even could knock and there he was, standing on your porch like some kind of hero from a forgotten old movie. Wearing a white shirt with the first buttons unbuttoned, dark brown trousers and. . . was he wearing an eyepatch?

As soon as he opened his mouth to greet you, you started a dialogue first. Oh damn, yes, that was awkward, but you kept going.

"Lookin' sharp," you teased, raising an eyebrow. 

“Yeah, well, it’s not every day a guy like me gets to take a gal like you out,” he flashed you that wide, confident grin that didn’t quite match his eyes though. He shifted a little, like he wasn’t sure where to put his hands. “You ready for the best date of your life or what?”

You tried, really tried, not to laugh at how absurd the eyepatch looked on him. You leaned on the doorframe. “Okay, I gotta ask. . . what’s with the eyepatch? Did you lose a fight with a tourist or something?”

His grin faltered for a second and you swear you saw him hesitate. He scratched the back of his head, looking away, as if he was caught off guard for some ridiculous act. Yeah, right now he really wanted to wash away the shame. “Oh, uh, this?” he gestured to the eyepatch, trying to look casual. “Just, uh. . . battle wound. You know, dangerous life and all that.”

You tilted your head, amused, waiting for the real answer. “Stan. . .”

He gave himself a mental slap in the face, yanking the patch off with a quick flick of his wrist. "You saw nothing." he muttered with deadly seriousness before stuffing it into his pocket.

You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face. For all his boldness, the fact that he tried to impress you, however clumsily, was so cute. “You don’t need to try that hard, you know. I. . . kind of like you just the way you are.”

His cheeks reddened, but just slightly, and he cleared his throat, shuffling awkwardly. “Yeah, well. . . don’t let it get to your head, alright?”

The passenger door of the Stanmobile creaked as you opened it and slid into the worn, cracked seat. The car smelled faintly of old leather and stale coffee, and the dashboard was littered with random trinkets, coins, and a few crumpled wrappers. Stan slammed his door shut, giving the steering wheel a hard pat before starting the engine.

“So, what’s the plan?” you asked, glancing over at him.

The plan was simple — or at least, it was supposed to be. A nice dinner in town, maybe a little romantic walk after, and if things went well, who knew? But with Stan, nothing ever went according to plan.

As the Stanmobile sputtered its way down the road, you couldn’t help but glance over at Stan again. He was focused on the road, hands gripping the wheel just a little too tightly. There was a kind of quiet tension about him tonight that wasn’t there on the usual days when you stopped by the Shack. Maybe it was just the date thing, maybe he really was nervous? The thought surprised you, but you liked it. It made him more. . . real, in a way. You liked that side of him. 

Yeah, diner turned out to be everything Stan had promised and more. It was like stepping into a time machine that had malfunctioned halfway through. Neon signs flickered above the entrance, and the interior was a strange mix of retro and. . . You couldn’t find the right word to describe. The red vinyl stands were cracked and peeling, tarnished with age. It smelled of old oil and nostalgia, like a place that had long outlived its heyday, but still maintained it with stubborn pride. 

It looked like it hadn’t changed since the '50s, but it was full to the brim. Of course, he hadn’t thought to make a reservation.

“Should’ve figured,” Stan grumbled, glaring at the crow. “You’d think folks around here would have better taste than to crowd this dump.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “Says the man who scams them daily.”

He gave you a wide smile. “Hey, I provide a valuable service. It’s called entertainment, toots.”

The jukebox in the corner of the room crackled to life, spitting out an old Elvis song that skipped every few beats. Stan’s brow furrowed in irritation, but there was something undeniably charming about the whole mess. It felt like a place he’d drag you to — not because it was fancy or impressive, but because it was something that always made happy and he wanted to share these feelings with you. Show them to you.

You were halfway through your milkshake (which, to be fair, wasn’t that bad, though Stan grumbled about the price) when the music changed. A slow, syrupy doo-wop tune hummed through the air, and Stan’s expression softened. His fingers tapped against the edge of the table, and he glanced up at you, his eyes shifting with something like uncertainty.

“So. . . you wanna dance?”

Your heart skipped a beat at that question, and for a second you wondered if you had heard him right. You blinked, then smiled. “With you? Absolutely.”

Stan stood, offering you his hand with a cocky grin. “Don’t say I didn’t warn ya, baby. I’m pretty much the king of the dance floor.”

You laughed, took his hand, and let him lead you into the tiny space between the booths. The floor was sticky and the lighting was terrible, but none of that mattered. You moved together, swaying awkwardly at first, but gradually finding a rhythm, Stan's warm hand slid down your back to your waist. In the world around you, it's just the two of you in your own little bubble of retro music and flickering neon light.

The date continued in typical Stan fashion - messy, loud, but weirdly charming. He ordered way too much food, insisting that “you only live once” and somehow managing to spill half a plate of fries onto the floor when his hand gestures got a little too wild. He told stories, some of them most obvious lies, but you could tell that a few were real, even though he never said so. Tales of his past, of scams gone wrong and of the time he got banned from New Jersey. You couldn't help but laugh together with him, because the sheer absurdity of it all made the evening much more enjoyable than you expected.

But just when you thought the night was going smoothly, the universe, and Stan’s luck, had other plans.

You were just halfway through your burger when the sound of sirens cut through the air, flashing red and blue lights flashed in the windows. Stan froze, his eyes widening just a little too much for someone who claimed to have nothing to hide.

“Uh, Stan, what’s with the cops?” you asked, already having a bad feeling.

Stan shrugged, a little too casually. “Probably just grabbing a bite to eat. Y’know, doughnuts and all that.”

Before you could answer, two policemen entered the diner and went straight to the table where you were sitting.

Stan's face changed instantly as he looked at you. “Uh. . . hey, why don’t we, uh, take our food to go?"

“Stanford Pines?” the cop asked, pulling out a notepad.

“Uh, it’s Sta-“ Stan came to his senses in time, suddenly sweating. He leaned forward, trying to give the guy his best innocent smile. “I think you’ve got the wrong guy, officer. I’m just here enjoying a nice, peaceful evening with my girl.”

The cop didn’t look convinced. “We’re going to need you to come with us.”

You raised an eyebrow, glancing between Stan and the cop, your heart sinking. “Stan, what’s going on?”

Stan bit his lip, rubbing his neck. “Eh, nothing to worry about, babe. Just. . . might have some, uh, unpaid parking tickets. No big deal.”

“Sta”- you wanted to repeat, but Stan interrupted you, clearly not letting you speak.

He avoided your gaze, focusing on the cop instead. “Look, officer, I’ll take care of the fines. Can’t we, uh, settle this quietly? I’ve got money.” he reached into his pocket, probably for his wallet, trying to salvage what was left of his dignity. Was he gonna pay with Stan bucks?

The cop didn’t budge, looking more annoyed by the second. But before you could process what was happening, the waiter reappeared next to your table, holding up the check. “Sir, your total is-“

But before he could finish the sentence, Stan grabbed your hand with a sudden burst of adrenaline. “C'mon! Time to make a quick exit,” he muttered, pulling you towards the door.

You barely had a chance to grab your things as he rushed to the exit, taking you with him, the cop’s voice rising behind you. “Sir! Sir, you can’t just-“

Too late. Stan was already moving at a speed you wouldn’t have thought possible for a man his age, practically dragging you across the diner floor. The bell above the door gave a loud ring as you burst outside, the cool night air hitting your face like a slap.

“What- Stan! What are you doing?” you shouted, trying to keep up as he raced toward the parking lot.

“Trust me, doll, I know what I’m doing!” he shouted back, fumbling with his car keys as you both headed straight for his battered old Stanmobile.

Stan yanked the door open, practically shoving you into the passenger seat. “Sorry, sweetheart, but we’re not getting arrested on our first date!” he said, giving you a grin that was way too proud for a man who’s running from the cops.

You barely had time to buckle your seatbelt before he slammed the driver’s door shut and jammed the key into the ignition. The engine sputtered, wheezed, and then roared to life with a sound like an angry chainsaw. “Atta girl, that’s it,” Stan muttered under his breath, patting the dashboard like it was a horse in an old western.

You glanced over your shoulder and saw a policeman running out of the diner, shouting something into a walkie-talkie. “S-Stan!”

“I see ’em!” Stan yelled, throwing the car into reverse and peeling out of the parking lot with a screech of tires. “Hold on tight!”

The car spun around, almost crashing into a lamp post. You were pretty sure you heard the cop yell something about backup, but all you could focus on was the blurred outlines of trees and neon lights flashing by as Stan raced down the street

“Okay, okay- this is fine,” you muttered to yourself, gripping the door handle hard. “We’re totally fine. Just a casual date. Running from the cops. No big deal.”

Stan burst into a loud laugher, clearly enjoying himself way more than he should have been. “Y’know, I’ve been in worse situations! Once outran a bunch of angry tax collectors in a boat! You’d be surprised what you can get away with if you’ve got the right distractions!”

“Stan!” you screamed in fear, and your heart jumped into your throat as the car swerved, almost hitting a raccoon running across the road.

“Relax, kid! I got this!” Stan assured you, his voice somehow both panicked and excited at the same time. He slammed on the gas, sending the car hurtling down a back road, away from the diner. The flashing lights of the police car in the rearview mirror were getting smaller, but you weren't sure how long it would last.

Just as you were about to ask if he had a plan (or if the plan was just "drive like hell"), Stan suddenly pulled off the road, skidding into a small dirt clearing hidden behind a bunch of trees. He cut the engine, motioning for you to stay quiet.

You sat there, breathless, scared, the sound of your racing heart filling the silence when a police car sped past, its siren fading in the distance.

There was a long, tense pause where you two just looked at each other. Then Stan leaned back in his seat, exhaling deeply. “Whew. Close call. That was cool, huh?” he turned to you, grinning like a kid who’d just gotten away with sneaking into a movie.

You couldn't help but stare at him, feeling something between disbelief and. . . oddly enough, admiration. Only Stanley Pines could turn a first date into getaway.

“Stan,” you finally said, breaking the silence, “we just fled a crime scene.”

“Eh, ‘crime’ is such a strong word,” he replied, waving his hand dismissively. “More like a. . . misunderstanding.”

You shook your head, a small laugh escaping your lips despite everything. Only with Stan.

But as the adrenaline slowly faded, you could see something else creeping into his expression, something much less cocky and way more. . . defeated, sad even. His hands tightened around the steering wheel, and his shoulders slumped.

“I really messed up tonight, huh?” his voice was quieter now, a lot more vulnerable than you’d ever heard him. He wasn’t looking at you anymore, just staring out the windshield. “I wanted to show you a good time. Prove I wasn’t just. . . y’know, some washed-up old guy who can’t get anything right. And look where we are. Hiding out in the woods, running from cops.” he laughed bitterly. “You probably think I’m an idiot.”

The silence that followed was heavy, you looked at him again. There was something heartbreaking about seeing Stan like this, behind all this bragging and show-off there was a man who truly cared what you thought of him. And right now, he looked like he had failed.

But then, through the trees, you noticed a glimpse of the sky. The full moon hung low, flooding the clearing with a soft silver light. It was strangely peaceful here now, away from the chaos what just happened, and you found yourself smiling no matter what.

You reached over and took his hand, squeezing it gently. “hey, Stan, look up.”

He frowned, confused, but did as you asked, his eyes following yours to the sky.

“It’s beautiful, right?” you said softly. “The full moon, the stars. . . this moment.”

Stan blinked, like he hadn’t expected that. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

“And you didn’t mess up,” you added, turning to him with a soft smile. “Tonight was. . . well, sure, it was an adventure, but that's what makes you the man I love. You're not a loser, Stan. Not for me.

He stared at you, like he couldn’t quite believe what you were saying. “You- you really mean that?”

“Yeah,” you answered him, your voice filled with sincerity. “I’d take a wild night with you over a boring, perfect one any day.”

There was a long pause while your words seemed to reach him. And then, slowly, Stan’s face broke into a real, genuine smile. Not his usual cocky smirk or sarcastic grin, just a simple, warm smile.

“Y’know, you’re somethin’ special,” he said softly, his hand tightening around yours. “I don’t deserve ya, but... I’m real glad you’re here.”

You leaned in a little closer, your heart fluttering as the distance between you got shorter. “I’m glad too, Stan.”

The moonlight bathed the two of you in its soft glow, and in that moment, despite the chaos of the night, everything felt. . . right.

[chitty-chitty-bang-bang-bang]

“Perpetual care” platonic!(Nandor x reader)

Requested by @sleeplessdreamer14

Word Count: 2,209 words

Age Restrictions: 16+ (vulgar language)

Tags: Fluff, crack, platonic, parent-child dynamic

Synopsis: Your dear friend Guillermo accidentally finds out that you are related to a certain ruler of Al Qoulnudar and he’s dying to meet you.

Author’s note: I’m an energy vampire, except I get my energy from people who request platonic fics for this account >:) Thank you so much, made my day

________________________________________

“Yeah, but the Stan that we knew the whole show, wasn’t the real Stan. The real Stan was the Stan, that came out of the portal. So this Stan is Stanford, but the Stan, who we thought to be Stanford, was actually Stanley.” You ranted, walking down the damp streets of Staten Island beside your old college friend.

“Okay, okay, [reader], I promise, I’ll watch Gravity Falls someday.” Guillermo said, still unable to process the lore you’ve been trying so hard to explain the entire time. He noticed the mailman on Ashley street out of the corner of his eye. “Go right, I need to grab the mail, before werewolves tear it apart.”

“Right now?” You grimaced.

“Yeah, what’s wrong?” He crossed the road and you trailed behind him, hesitating slightly.

“I don’t know… Your house gives me the creeps ever since you told me about your, uh, ‘employers’. I’d rather live to my 40s, you know?” The half-joking tone of your statement made Guillermo chuckle.

“Don’t worry, they don’t harm the people, who are close to me. Plus, it’s way too early for them to be awake. The sun is barely set and they usually don’t get up until I wake them.” He shrugged and strolled towards the big, dark building.

“Should’ve brought my crucifix…” you mumbled.

The sky got darker and darker, as you finally approached your destination. The house seemed to tower over you, like an angry giant. It wasn’t that big, but it sure looked that way to you, since you knew what kind of creatures inhabited it. You instinctively stood closer to Guillermo than you usually would.

The familiar glanced into the mailbox and pulled out a few envelopes. Bills, some r-rated magazine Laszlo is subscribed to, grocery store ad and a mysterious envelope labelled ‘AncestryDNA’. Your eyes widened at the sight of it, distracting you from the thoughts about your current location.

“Man, I did this one too a few months ago! It’s kinda useless to be honest, it’s not like I’ll contact any of the people I’m related to at 0.01%.” You chuckled. “But it was fun. Had no idea there were so many nationalities in my family.”

“Oh, that’s great! I did one for me and Nandor. He was feeling a bit down recently, ever since he found out that his country Al Quolnudar no longer exists, so I thought letting him know about his relatives would… cheer him up.” He smiled.

“Aw, that’s so cute.” You said, then remembered that it’s a bloodthirsty vampire he’s talking about. Guillermo started walking towards the front door. “Wait, wait, wait! Where are you going?”

“To leave the mail inside, it’ll be a second.” He reassured you.

“Come on, man. Don’t leave me here alone.” You looked around. You weren’t sure if you trusted the night sky anymore. Anything could be around. Werewolves? Witches? Other vampires?

“Then come in with me. It’s alright.” Guillermo reached out his hand and you unwillingly took it, following him inside.

The inside of the house was beautiful and perfectly preserving of the many ancient relics, that seemed to litter every shelf. Your friend truly did a great job at keeping the house pristine. You barely made two steps inside, when you saw an unfamiliar woman descending down the staircase. She was ravishing, but seemed rather annoyed.

“Oh, there you are! Where the hell have you been?” She growled at Guillermo. You mentally noted her unique accent.

“Just out. I didn’t expect you to be up so early, Nadja.” He replied calmly, seemingly used to this treatment.

“Early? It’s 11pm for Sire’s sake! Barely woke up for the midnight snack.” The man looked at his watch, realising that he did in fact loose track of time with you. Meanwhile, Nadja’s gaze travelled to you. “Oh, I see you brought a treat. Well, maybe I can forgive you this one time.”

The woman smiled and suddenly disappeared into thin air. There was a moment of sheer confusion, when you wondered if your brain was playing tricks on you. Out of nowhere, a pair of cold hands grabbed your shoulders in a matter of seconds.

“Nadja, wait!” Guillermo shouted, barely turning around in time and you felt the vampire’s fangs stop inches away from your throat. “They’re not a snack, they’re my friend. I just needed to… Uhm…show them something in my room.” He tried to make up an excuse for you being in the house.

“Why the hell would you bring a random human into our house?!” Her voice roughened.

“Look. I’m sorry, Nadja. But you know I would never bring anyone dangerous into the house. They know about vampires and they’re not a vampire slayer. Trust me, they’re harmless.” He pleaded.

Nadja scoffed and looked at you once again, as if contemplating killing you, before leaving completely. You let out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding in the first place, still very much shaken by the sudden near death experience.

“Did she just teleport behind me?!” You whisper-yelled.

“Yeah, they can do that.” He whispered back. “Sorry, I thought they’d be aslee-“

He couldn’t finish his talk, before a loud voice echoed through the walls: “Guillermo! The lid is stuck again!”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I have to deal with that.” He ran up the stairs immediately.

“Wait up!” You followed.

You reached a wooden door with a golden knob. The familiar turned around to you, overthinking the plan for a few seconds, until he finally spoke up.

“Okay, you stay here. I’ll go help Master. Then when we come out, I’ll introduce you. If you meet anyone in the hallway, just come inside the room. Unless it’s Colin Robinson. Got it?” He let out in one breath.

“Wait, I-“ But it was too late and he already closed the door behind him.

The hallway was quiet. Even too quiet. You looked around, when another new face appeared from around the corner. A man, dressed very fanciful and rich. He smiled at the sight of you and you noticed his fangs right away.

“Ah, lunch!” He exclaimed and before you could ran inside the room next to you, the voice of Nadja interrupted the ordeal.

“It’s not food, Laszlo! It’s Guillermo’s friend.” She said, in an evidently displeased voice.

“Oh, pardon me then. Laszlo Cravensworth.” He extended his hand and you shook it.

“[reader]. Nice to meet you.”

“I like your grip, [reader]. Nice and firm. Tell me, are you Gizmo’s friend or friend?”

“I, uh…” You observed Laszlo’s face and he seemed absolutely serious. “I’m not sure I understand.”

Finally, the door swung open, revealing a tall, rather intimidating man. He looked at Laszlo and nodded, greeting him and the other vampire answered accordingly. His soothing voice, made you a bit less scared, but his fangs made it very hard to calm down.

“Ah, so this is [reader]?” He glanced at Guillermo and pointed in your direction, to which the familiar nodded. “Greetings, [reader]. I am Nandor the Relentless. They call me that because I don’t relent.” You could tell, he’s really forcing himself to be nice to you.

“Nice to meet you, mr. Relentless.” A nervous smile painted your face.

There was a beat of incredibly awkward silence, that felt simultaneously like a nice break and a staring contest. Finally, Guillermo broke it.

“Well, let’s go check that DNA test while we’re at it?” He suggested.

“I suppose that is a good idea.” Nandor agreed and you simply nodded along, now getting way too intrigued by this situation.

Downstairs, the three of you desperately tried to fit in Guillermo’s tiny space under the stairs, which didn’t seem like adequate living conditions, but you bit back the urge to bring this up. He punched the code on the envelope into their site and watched the loading screen for a few seconds until it showed you the result.

“Master, it says here, you are 70% Persian, 15% Kurd, 10% Turkmen and 5% Kazakh.” The vampire seemed to have a bunch of questions about this ratio, but before he could ask any, Guillermo continued. “And we can check if you have any living relatives, would you want to see that?”

Nandor’s eyes sparkled with anticipation, as he moved closer to the computer, sandwiching you between the two of them as if personal space is not a thing. “Relatives? Yes, yes, go on…”

The familiar clicked to the next folder on the site and it showed a ridiculously high number. More than three hundred thousand people. All of you remained in a state of collective shock.

“I’m a granddad?” Nandor looked at the screen in awe.

“Yes. Yes, you are.” The familiar choked out, unsure if he wants to delve into the implications of this amount of descendants. “Look how much you’ve got in the US alone.” He pointed at the map.

“All of these dots… They are my grandkids?” He squinted his eyes a bit to distinguish them better.

“Yeah! Well, some of them might be your grand nieces and nephews or something.” You chimed in.

“Oh, no. I killed my siblings before they could procreate.” He shrugged and you couldn’t tell whether it was a joke or not. “Are there any in Staten Island?” He asked.

“I don’t know. Let’s see.” Guillermo zoomed in on the particular area of New York. “Yeah, look! Over here.” He pointed at the address, funnily enough, it was your street. What a coincidence.

Guillermo clicked on the dot in Staten Island, which revealed the profile of Nandor’s supposed relative. A picture with a familiar face popped up. Your face. With a caption: [reader], born [_], ethnicity [_] and so on. All the information you filled out, when taking the test. Both heads suddenly turned to you.

“Is that you?” Nandor asked, already knowing the answer, but needing confirmation nonetheless.

You nodded shakily and let out a nervous chuckle. “Wow… wouldn’t have ever guessed I had a vampire grandpa.”

His smile grew wide with an uncharacteristic gentleness, as if he was genuinely happy to have you here. This felt weird. Just a second ago you saw this man as a terrifying bloodthirsty lunatic and now he’s apparently your ancestor. You weren’t sure how to act, so you awkwardly excused yourself, saying something about it being late and having work tomorrow, before practically sprinting out of the vampire residence.

You spent the night, pondering over the idea of reconnecting with your relentless grandpa. You weren’t sure if it was a sense of pity, sympathy, morbid curiosity or all at once, but the idea didn’t seem half bad. After all, he was the only one who hadn’t tried to kill you, which was a low bar to cross, but it was still crossed and that is taken into account.

The next day, you were getting ready to confront the vampire for the second time, to see if he’s down for a small family reunion. But as you opened the front door of your apartment, you saw Nandor and Guillermo standing outside, both looking a bit worried.

“Oh, hi! I was just about to go visit you.” You stated bluntly. The door opened wider to let both of them in. The familiar stepped inside, but the vampire just remained standing there. “Uhm, come on in.”

Only then did he come into the space and take a sit in your armchair.

“So I brought a present for you.” Nandor smiled in excitement and pulled out a little plush toy from a paper bag he had. “We made this at Build-a-Bear. If you press its paw it recites the warrior’s code in Farsi. I recorded it myself.” He handed it to you with almost childish giddiness and you couldn’t help but feel affectionate towards the gift. Unconventional, but sincere.

“Aw, thank you so much.” You held it close. “That’s very nice.”

“All the best for my grandkids.” He nodded.

“Maybe we should get to know each other better?” You suggested, sitting down on your bed.

“Yes, of course!” He tried to think of a good conversation topic. “Uhh… Thoughts on arson?”

“Hot.” You replied without thinking.

“I like you already.” He laughed a bit too loud for a mediocre joke.

The rest of the nighttime was spent with the two of you talking and doing dumb shit inside your apartment (Guillermo was just there for emotional support and because Nandor wanted him to stay). You found Nandor’s inability to spend more than 15 seconds pondering an idea and his earnest desire to connect with you, despite the generational rift very admirable and actually grew to like him. Of course, it would take much longer than several hours for you to fully start considering him family, but you’re willing to put in the work and so is he.

When it was time for both of your guests to leave, you shared a long heartfelt hug with your newfound relative.

“Goodbye, grandpa.” You said without much thinking.

“Grandpa?” He asked.

“Oh, sorry. Too early? Goodbye, Nandor.” You corrected yourself right away.

“No. Grandpa’s fine.” The vampire returned in a slightly shaky voice.

You weren’t sure, but you might’ve seen tears form in his eyes. Though you’ll probably never find out…

(PS: he did cry)

[emmabirb8]

My first official venture into a super rare pair, EmmaStan, aka Emma-May Dixon and Stanley Pines!! @cosmo-shell and @slug-ball opened my eyes to the concept of these two, and WHOA the potential really stole my heart. It's absolutely not what they're serving out front, lmao, but the ship has bewitched me body and soul nonetheless. I just fell in love with the idea of these two tortured souls finding comfort in each other during the most difficult periods of their lives. They've been through HELL and deserve nice things. 😊💖 (And Emma-May in particular deserves WAY more love and attention in this fandom!)

My personal interpretation of Emma-May was mainly inspired by this piece by @birdskullz and this piece by @cosmo-shell.

Check out my AU fic for them here if you want! I haven't attempted a multi-chaptered fic in a VERY long time, lol, so hopefully this one will pan out well. First two chapters are up, but I've got more drafted out that will be posted very soon!

Writing out some key HCs about Emma-May and a rough timeline of events I constructed for my AU fic under the cut here:

Emma-May's family moved from Kansas to Tennessee when she was less than a year old, so she was raised in TN

Her mother is black while her father is white, and she has two older sisters

She became friends with Fiddleford and his siblings sometime during childhood

She attended college in New Jersey (went to a school I made up called “Gertrude University,” sort of a ref to the real university of Rutgers), majoring in botany, while Fidds ofc went to Backupsmore somewhere in the midwest 

Met Stan by chance once as a college student about a year after he was kicked out of his house and was still struggling with treasure hunting (probably around 1970 or 1971)

Married Fidds anywhere from 1973-1975 when they were in their 20s – felt pressured from family and society to get married, but they were best friends and did love each other (but the marriage was covertly strained from the beginning bc neither could get what they truly needed from each other – best friends don't necessarily work as a married couple even if some level of attraction is there along with the love)

Had Tate in the early-mid 70s, both love him to pieces and Fidds was a very devoted father up until he started unraveling 

Fidds left his family around the very late 70s to early 80s to work with Ford

Fidds abandoned the portal project in the early 80s, at that point already having started his descent into madness due to his reliance on the memory gun

Emma-May filed for divorce after becoming fed up with his bizarre behavior, lack of calls home, and a big fight they had around Christmas of the early 80s

The “homicidal pterodactyl-tron” attack happened during springtime after that Christmas, and this solidified Emma-May's decision to take Tate someplace safe (to stay with her aunt who lives in another state) while she set off to Gravity Falls herself to try to track Fiddleford down and figure out wtf happened to make him so different and dangerous 

At some point either right before or after the pterodactyl attack, Fidds created the Society of the Blind Eye and subsequently lost what remained of his mind and memories

Emma-May bumped into Stan, once again by chance, the night before he arrived in Gravity Falls upon Ford's request

[lkfarrout]

Seventh (Stan x fem!Reader) 18+

Summary: Stan reveals he has less experience than his confident demeanor lets on

Warnings: Smut/NSFW/18+ soft, slow, and sweet this time :)

This is 2 chapters but both are included here. The real smut starts in chapter 2.

Minors do not interact

Chapter 1

You were more nervous than you should have been. You'd been on plenty of dates with Stanley Pines, but as you waited for him to pick up the phone, you could feel your heart fluttering in your chest.

"You've reached the Mystery Shack."

"Hey, sailor."

"Oh hey, toots! How're ya doin?"

"Good, Stan. Hey, I was wondering -- I got this new movie, and thought maybe you'd want to watch it with me? Are you free tonight?"

"Yeah, I'm not doin' anything. What time?"

"I can be over at 8 if that works for you?"

"Oh, you're comin to the shack? Well, see I only got the one chair, and--"

"It sounds like I'll have to sit on your lap then, big guy."

"Oh! Yeah, sounds like it. I'll, uh, I'll see you at 8 then."

"See you then! Oh wait!"

"Yeah?"

"Would it be weird if I wore pajamas?"

"I don't see why it would be."

"Well if you're gonna be in slacks, I'll feel pretty underdressed, you know."

"Ha, I promise I'll wear somethin comfy, okay?"

"Perfect, see you later Stan!"

"I can't wait, doll."

---

As the clock ticked closer to 8, you pulled out the outfit - the perfect 2 piece pajama set - silky shorts and a button up top, with matching bra and panties to complete it. If this didn't get him in bed with you, you might consider giving up altogether.

His reaction when he opened the door was exactly what you wanted, "Wow, ya look gorgeous, babe." He pulled you in by the waist and gave you a passionate kiss.

"Not too bad yourself, Stan." He was in a white undershirt and red plaid pajama pants - a pretty big contrast to the multitude of layers he usually wore. The tank top showed off his broad shoulders and thick stomach perfectly and he looked very snuggle-able. The thought of sitting on his lap for the next two hours gave you butterflies.

"Why don't ya put the movie in, I'll get some snacks." Stan headed toward the kitchen.

As you fiddled with the remote, trying to get the subtitles on, you heard him settle into the chair behind you. When you turned around, he had a blanket over his lap, which he opened up with a big grin and said, "Ya ready to climb aboard the Stan-o-War?"

You couldn't help but laugh at his joke, and you gladly joined him in the chair. You threw your legs over one armrest and laid your head on his shoulder. He wrapped the blanket around you, and as you relaxed further into his lap, he stirred a little. You lifted yourself back up a bit, "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, I just, uh," he tugged at the front of his pants, "there." He chuckled a little as you settled down, and you felt his erection pressing into your hip.

"Sorry 'bout that, doll, I can't help it when you're around."

"Oh, so you DO like me," you teased him, "I was starting to think maybe all these dates were out of pity or something."

"What are you talkin' about? Course I like you."

You fiddled with the gold chain poking out of the neck of his tank top. "C'mon Stan, everytime we go out, you flirt shamelessly, talk a big game, play footsies under the table, and then you take me home and all I ever get is a kiss goodnight. Don't you want anything more?" You made a very obvious glance downward.

"No, I do! I just," he sighed, "I dunno. Maybe I'm nervous."

"Stan Pines is nervous?" You teased him, "I didn't think that was possible."

You continued, more serious this time, "What are you nervous about?"

"I just, didn't want to disappoint ya, I guess."

"Why would you disappoint me?"

Stan scratched at his stubble and avoided eye contact. "Well, I hate to admit it but, I don't exactly have the most," he waved his hand in a circle, looking for the right phrase, "notches in the bedpost, I guess."

You couldn't help but raise your eyebrows in genuine surprise, "Really, Stan? I'm shocked."

He shrugged.

"Wait, weren't you married once?" You asked.

"Yeah, for like a day. We uh, consumated the marriage, I fell asleep, and she stole my car."

You laughed, and he continued, "You know, it's actually a pretty good story, see--"

You cut him off, "Hey! Don't try to change the subject on me!"

"Alright, you got me."

"So, just how little experience are we talking here? Like, you can count on one hand, or?"

"Gee, let's see," he ran a hand through his hair before chuckling nervously, "maybe one of Stanford's hands."

"Six? Ah, so that's what?" You teased him, "Once or twice per decade since you turned 18?"

He rubbed his nose under his glasses, "God, when you put it that way..."

You took his hand in yours, "Hey, it's alright, I'm just teasing you." You planted a kiss on his cheek, "It's no big deal, I promise."

He didn't seem very soothed by your words.

"Well, it aint just that." The movie, completely ignored, continued to play in the background. "See, I've never actually made a woman... finish before."

"Ah," you nodded.

He continued, "At least, I feel like I know when I'm gettin' lied to, y'know?"

You chuckled, before asking, "Well, do you know how to?"

Stan rubbed the back of his neck, "I have... a vague idea."

"Well," you placed a hand on his cheek and leaned in to whisper, "would you like me to show you?"

Even in the dim light, you could tell he was blushing. He nodded, "Yeah, I'd like that."

Chapter 2

His bedroom was cast in a soft red light from the stained glass window. It was cozy, simply decorated, and a little messy -- not too different from what you'd imagined in your head 100 times over. In those fantasies, however, you always stumbled in, pulling each other's clothes off halfhazardly.

In reality, he slowly led you in by the hand and sat you on the edge of the bed next to him. He cupped your jaw with both of his large hands and began to kiss you, softly and intentionally.

Your hands wandered over each other's bodies, and over time, the clothes piled up on the bedroom floor.

His touch was light, and almost timid as he ran his fingertips over your breasts, continuing to kiss you. Your hand found it's way up his thigh and onto his dick, a bead of precum already forming at the tip. At the contact, he sighed into your neck. You gave it just a few strokes and a squeeze before asking, "Are you ready, Stan?"

"Oh yeah, baby."

"Okay, it's probably easiest if you sit behind me."

He propped himself up against his pillow and the headboard, and you seated yourself between his legs and layed back against his broad chest. His hands wandered over your waist, stomach, and breasts, this time with more confidence, all while his arousal pressed into your lower back.

You directed his hand downward and as his middle finger divided your folds, he breathlessly exclaimed, "Ah shit, babe, you're soaked."

"Mmhmm, all for you, Stan."

His finger teased your entrance, "Show me what to do, doll."

You placed your hand on top of his and guided him to your clit. "Do you feel that? Right there, that's it."

He nodded in response and began to massage in little circles, "How's that?"

"That's great, Stan." You couldn't help but move your hips, grinding against his touch.

"Wow," he sighed, "ya look real pretty doin' that."

The heat was building, and your breathing turned into soft moans while Stan's free arm supported you and kept you securely in front of him.

After a few moments, he asked, "What else can I do? I wanna help you cum, sweetie."

"Just keep talking, talk me through it, please."

"Alright babe, just keep makin' your pretty sounds. I've got ya, don't hold back. You're so good for lettin' me do this."

"Oh, Stan..."

"I never thought I'd get so lucky, doll. I can't wait to be inside ya. I don't know if I'll even make it that far, with your sexy body rubbin' up against me."

His fingers kept a steady pace the whole time, but it was his words that did you in. He seemed completely enamored by you. As the orgasm came over you, he fell silent, just taking it all in, still diligently massaging you and holding you steady through it.

At the end of it all, you placed your hand on his to still his movements, and he wrapped his arms around you, giving you a light squeeze from behind.

"Did I do okay?"

"That was fantastic, Stan, thank you. What did you think?"

"Hottest thing I've ever seen." He laughed lightly, "And a whole lot simpler than I thought."

"Yeah?" You turned around and gave him a kiss on the forehead. "It's your turn, sailor. Lay down for me, I want to ride you."

He did as he was told. "I ain't gonna last too long..."

"That's okay," you positioned yourself over him, "That's the beauty of letting me go first."

He let out a deep groan as you slid onto him, "Oh, baby, you feel so good. I-- I don't deserve this."

"You deserve to feel good, Stan. You made me feel so good."

You increased your pace slowly, grinding on him and drawing out more groans and sighs.

"You like that, Stan? Is there anything else you want me to do?"

"Just keep movin' those hips, doll, I'm real close. Some of those pretty sounds of yours would help, too."

You obeyed, moaning softly in rhythm with the motions. The look in his eyes was one of absolute awe and infatuation, even as he furrowed his brow and swore, "Fuck, babe, can I cum inside ya?"

You nodded, "Fill me up, Stan."

He gripped both of your hips firmly and pressed his own up a little further into you.

"Oh, shit, I--" his voice trailed off and was replaced by another series of groans as spurts of semen filled you and began to slowly leak out.

As he caught his breath, you leaned down and kissed him on the nose before dismounting and cuddling up next to him.

---

The two of you began to dress yourselves. This time, Stan left the pants behind and stuck with just his boxers.

"Hey, uh, I got a question," He pulled his undershirt on, "If I'd lasted longer, could you have finished again just from that?"

You explained that while some women don't orgasm at all from penetration, it is possible for you in certain positions. "But," you said, buttoning up your pajama top, "that's something we can work on next time."

"Next time?" He smiled.

"Of course. You didn't think I'd let you stop at seven, did you?"

[darlingdia1007]

OMG hi I saw that you ate taking requests and I just HAD to request.

Could you maybe do a Stanley x F! Reader where they are an old married couple and resder is angry about something and keeps cussing and being a meanie. The twins are scared and looking at grunkle stan for help about this and to calm Reader down before she sets the shack on fire but Stanley just says this is normal and he intact finds it incredibly hot.😜😜

Beating the heat

(Thank you for requesting this one. It seems very silly honestly. I do apologize, it’s been a while since I’ve written a fanfic.)

It was around 1:30pm when the temperatures had reached its highest of 105° degrees and the AC wasn’t working correctly in the shack. Stepping outside wasn’t the best idea either since the wind would only blow hot air.

Stan and his wife were sitting at the kitchen table as they began debating if they should close the shack since it would become a bigger issue as the day went on. This heat was slowly getting to (Y/N) very quickly. Placing her hand on the collar of her shirt, she began to fan herself with her shirt. Beads of sweat slowly moved down her face as the breeze she created felt amazing.

“Even when you’re melting over there, I bet I can Make you melt in other ways~” a scraggly voice said in front of you. Stan had made one of his “flirty” remarks at you. Most of the time you would love them and shoot one back his way, but dear lord was it a bad time. “Hun, Right now isn’t the best time.” She said as she looked at him and rolled her eyes. This heat was really getting to her now. “Oh come on, you love that one!” He remarked as he got up from his chair.

Sometimes, even after the 30 years the two had been together, married, she could still get mad at him for reals sometimes. This was one of these moments. Getting up from her chair, she had quickly put your chair back into its place and entered the gift shop. An Idea that would probably save her life but she couldn’t do it till everyone was out of the gift shop.

Reaching for the open sign, she switched it to closed as to let people know they will be closed for the rest of the day. Now the only issue was getting people to leave the gift shop. Sitting herself down at the register, she began helping people pay out one by one. Around 20 minutes later, the last customer left. She smiled and waved goodbye to the woman and hurriedly locked the door.

A sign of relief left her lips as she ran a hand through her graying hair. Stepping away from the door, she went to the vending machine and began typing in the familiar code as she made her way down the stairs.

—————————————————————

“Grunkle stan, Why does Grauntie (Y/N) seem… mad?” Mabel had squeaked out from around the corner when leaving the gift shop and entered the living room where her grunkle was seated while watching the TV. “Mad? What do you mean kiddo?” He looked at Mabel in confusion when Dipper came from behind his sister. “She was all pushy and grouchy towards the customers when she was checking them out. She was also sweating pretty hard.” He wiped the sweat from his hands as he soon realized it was getting a little hot.

Stan sat there for a sec and an idea popped into his head, “Kids, go get your swim suits, we’re going to the pool.” Shouts of excitement lept from the kids.

——————————————————————

“Ford… hello?” She had made it to the last couple of steps as she placed her foot on the solid floor. It was surprisingly cold down here so the biggest smile crept onto her face. Standing next to the stairs, she closed her eyes and embraced the cold that was creeping over her body. Unknowingly to her, her brother-in-law heard her and was walking towards her. “Yes?” He asked as he looked at her.

“Oh good, you’re here! I need to ask the biggest favor.” She pleaded as she looked at him. “The AC is broken and I have no clue what’s wrong with it. Could you please save me and fix it? I’ll make you those sugar cookies you really like.”

His attention was quickly caught on when he heard that his favorite dessert was about to be made for him. “I’ll get right to it then.” A small smile was placed on her face as she began to go up the stairs when she heard a familiar voice that she was a little annoyed at.

“(Y/N) are you down here? Honey?” It was Stan. Her smile left her face when heard her husband calling her name. Finally making it to the surface, she came face to face with him. “God you look so hot when you’re feisty.” He quickly grabbed her and spun her around. She couldn’t be mad at him for long after that. A small kiss was placed on her lips as she held onto him, slowly melting at the affectionate she was being given from him.

“See, I told you I could make you melt.” He laughed as her face quickly became sour and pushed him away. “What? I can’t like my women a little feisty?! Hey, go get your bathing suit, I’m taking you and the kids to go swimming to beat this heat.” He began walking back to the living room as (Y/N) stood there at the small gesture.

Walking upstairs to their bedroom, the sounds of floorboard creaked as she made her way to their shared bedroom. Quickly reaching to the dresser to pull out her swimsuit, she placed it on the bed and grabbed the sunscreen, sunglasses, and the beach bag. Everything was packed and ready for the pool. The sounds of laughter could be heard from the outside porch as the twins were talking to each other. Mabel seemed to be the most excited out of the two of them though.

“Honey, we gotta be home before 5, I still need to make the cookies I promised your brother.” You had said as Stan walked out in his swimsuit. Those adorable striped swimsuits would never get old.

[fordlee]

climbing into someone else’s hospital bed is like the easiest thing to be convinced of lmao. “The chair can’t be comfortable, seriously get in the bed already. The nurses aren’t coming for another few hours, it’s fine.” etc. the trope is really easy lol

Now, fucking in the hospital bed on the other hand…

Unfortunately, I don't think Stan's ready for that kind of fun, yet 😔 he's only just realized his feelings for Ford run deeper than plain brotherly love, and whatever the nurses gave him are keeping him down for the count. Not to mention the guilt he feels, but those thoughts only barely come to the surface. The real thing would come later, when he's only the normal amount of medicated and can truly grapple with the realization that he's in love with Ford.

But right now, it's nice. Stan feels nice and heavy and relaxed and warm. Even warmer with Ford at his side, snuggling against him. He can close his eyes and turn his head to nose at Ford's jacket and take a deep, slow inhale of his scent. He can smell the sea on him and it smells like home. He can pretend they're not in the hospital right now, that they're still aboard the Stan O' War II and cuddling up together. Domestic.

Stan feels a hand start to stroke through his hair. He opens his eyes, half-lidded, to gaze up at his brother. And the look in Ford's eyes makes Stan's stomach do a weird flutter thing. Because, God, he looks so soft. So soft and beautiful and handsome. And he's looking at Stan as if he's something worth looking at. As if he's the most important thing in the room, in the world, in the universe, as if everything is just melting away and the only thing that's left is just the two of them. He's not talking neither, just holding Stan's gaze as he slowly cards through Stan's hair.

Another catch of his stomach. For a moment, Stan's medicated mind allows himself to believe, to hope, that Ford might just feel the same. But... No. No, that can't be. Ford would never. Hell, he'd probably hate him if he ever found out. But, God, had Ford been damn affectionate lately. Always pulling him in for hugs, constantly holding his hands, putting himself in front of Stan when they were in danger. He isn't gonna blame Stanford or anything, but hey, don't blame a guy for falling you when you act like such a dashing gentleman, alright?

Stan huffs out a laugh at the thought. Ford returns with a soft, questioning hum.

"What's on your mind?" He asks.

Stan lazily shrugs his shoulder. "Ah, you know, just thinking about how much I love ya."

The soft smile on Ford's face brightens and reaches his eyes. He raises another hand to Stan's face, caressing it with the back of his hand, knuckles dragging gently against his stubble.

"I love you, too Stanley."

A content sigh escapes Stan. He can pretend that Ford doesn't mean it just as brothers, that Ford loves him back in the same way.

It's getting hard to keep his eyes open. He shuffles nearer to his brother, cuddling him even closer. His eyes threaten to fall shut into unconsciousness, but he fights to take in his brother's face for just a bit longer. Burn it into his memory.

They're so close. He can feel Ford's warm breath against him.

Before he goes under, he can swear Stanford's eyes were dilated. But, he's probably seeing things.

It's probably nothing.

[passthepittcola]

wait no hold on. stancest but they both have a food/feeding kink. generally from a stan sort of POV bcus he's me🫶

in their early childhood, ford feels oddly warm watching stanley eat so much. he doesn't quite understand it, but keeps quiet and just pretends he likes goading his brother on (which, well. that isn't exactly a lie, is it?)

in their teens, stan fills out more and has been boxing now for a few years, and after a particularly big win, maybe stan scrounges up some money to take him and ford out to eat.

ford's face goes redder than the marinara sauce at that restaurant. stan briefly worries ford has somehow forgotten how to breathe.

so it goes like that for a while, and they hook up and play around. and maybe stan doesn't entirely get it just yet, but he knows ford likes his body, because pshh, yeah, of course he does! so he just rolls with it.

during stan's drifter years, i imagine he realizes he's into a lot of different things- praise, being degraded, getting his hair pulled too tight- yadda yadda. he's not super kinky, is what he thinks, just.. knowledgeable.

but the one thing that gives him pause.. is food. at first, he thinks maybe he's just hit his head one too many times, and now his hot meals that come with blowjobs just make him sweat a little. okay, whatever. stan can deal with that.

what he can't deal with is doing the tango with others who are unashamedly into feeding, into being fed. it.. he tells himself he hates it. and it definitely doesn't remind him of anyone.

he tries really hard to repeat those thoughts when he jacks off about it in his car on particularly lonely nights, when he doesn't want to waste quarters on a phonecall he knows he won't say anything on.

and, later, many years down the line, stan is stanford, in "his own" house, and he's definitely going to whatever hell is worse than the one he's currently in. because he's setting up a mirror as tall as his door, putting on his brother's glasses, his brother's clothes, and a hot plate of food is in front of him.

he's almost not guilty about it, with an orgasm that intense. almost. but, hey, it motivates him to start feeding himself, lets him work on the portal for another day, and he gets a new hobby out of it. so what the hell, right?

and it pays off. 40-some years, and finally, finally, his brother is here again. stan is.. weirdly upset about how thin ford is when he first comes back. how he seems to never eat. but he's also worried about how his brother never sleeps or practices safe hygiene, so maybe it's just that.

and there isn't time to think about it, because he's getting kicked out again, and ford isn't staying away from the kids like stan asked but how can he be mad when he's wanted ford to meet them for almost 13 years, and ford's in trouble and the kids are in trouble and that stupid triangle is here and the whole town is in trouble- and then he's... nobody. nothing. white, blank, black and grey, a soothing fog.

so it doesn't really come up again until much, much later, when his brain is mostly recovered from being swiss cheese and he and ford are on a boat (a boat!).

mabel had initially helped ford start eating real food again, and now it's up to stan. and he thinks he's a good cook. or, better than ford, at least. he's convinced mabel's glitter enchiladas she made once (with real, non-edible glitter) were better than anything ford could make.

so stan cooks. that warm feeling comes, as he watches ford eat. he thinks it's just sappy, mushy feelings, and then suddenly he makes something ford really likes and he's popping a boner over it.

thankfully, ford doesn't notice, but the next time they dock and eat out at a restaurant, ford is the one popping a stiffy and he's certainly not shy about it once they get in private, even if he doesn't realize why. stan certainly isn't complaining, but now he feels like there's a pattern. naturally, instead of just talking about it, he tests it. brings ford to a hotel or something, they get a shit ton of takeout, or maybe a fancy dinner served to their room.

stan would definitely play it up, eating noisily until ford complains. stan just grins and continues until ford pounces to get him to stop, and somehow play-fighting turns into feeding each other, and stan definitely remembers what food kinks are now.

they book their hotel room for one more night, stuffed full with more than just food at the end of it.

[hazybisou]

TOOTHLESS

blurb

reader x jack hughes

summary: y/n finds out through twitter that jack has lost a tooth and calls to see for herself.

a/n: IT MADE ME CACKLE HELLA HARD!! like imagine the lisp he’s gonna have 😭😭 it’s gonna be hella cute but wayyyy too fucking funny. also i js had to write this like cmon 🤣🤣

jack was away in Raleigh for the second game of round two of the stanley cup playoffs against the carolina hurricanes. you stayed home due to have finals but were still able to watch the first game.

you were finishing up homework while watching the second game, the score being 1-4, the canes winning. you finished typing up your essay when you got a text from your friend, jane.

janey boo 🙃

did you see?!!

you

see what?

janey boo 🙃

JACK LOST HIS TOOTH

you

WDYM HE LOST HIS TOOTH

janey boo 🙃

i was scrolling through tiktok and saw a picture of jack missing his front tooth to the sound bigger than the whole sky

you

BAHHHHHAHAHAHA

WAIT OMG THATS SO RUDE

poor jack

BUT LIKE IWHSHABXSJ

OMG IMA GO LOOK

janey boo 🙃

woody and mercer and jack are now the toothless trio

you

THEYRE TRIPLETS HOW CUTE

ANYWAYS BYE

you couldn’t help the little laughs and giggles that escaped. you open up twitter and search up ‘jack hughes’ and clicking on ‘latest’. you scroll down and can’t help but burst out laughing. you probably looked crazy right now but this news was too funny.

you look up and notice the game has ended, the canes winning 6-1. you decided to wait a couple minutes, knowing it would only be a matter of seconds until jack would text you, something along the lines of ‘i just got out of the arena’.

a couple of minutes later, you’re phone dinged and you saw it was jack who texted. it said ‘hey i just left and am headed back to the hotel’. you don’t respond as you immediately go and click on his contact before the phone started ringing.

“hello?”

“hey babe, just wanted to let you know that you played great tonight. m’ sorry about the loos,” you told him syntactically.

jack smiled on the other end, “thanks. i appreciate it. anyways, what were you doing?” you noticed he had a small lisp. it was cute. his words sounded like a little kindergartners.

you just smiled at the question, knowing jack would always ask about your day and how it went. “oh i was just finishing up some homework. nothing much. why?”

“just wanted to know,” jack responds. you look down at your phone and realize he’s facetiming. you slide the button and are met with the ceiling of his car. you hear the jingle of keys and rustling before he picks his phone up and his face comes in view. “hi.”

“hi.” you respond back. “whatcha doing?”

he smiled. “nothing. just gonna head to the hotel before getting to see you again.”

the smile on your face grew even bigger before you remembered why you called him so fast. “hey jack?” he perked up and hummed. “could you smile at me real quick?”

jack looked at you suspiciously before shrugging and showing you a toothy grin. you just giggled before small laughs started to come out and soon you were cackling.

jack looked confused.

by the time you were done laughing tears began to fall from how hard you were laughing. “oh jack..your tooth.” you finally told him.

he finally got it and just began to pout. “it’s not funny.” he remarked.

“just a little bit. it’s ok though.” you told him. “it’s cute. especially your lisp.”

jack’s cheeks turned pink at the comment. “stop, it’s not cute.” he still had the same pout on. you just started at him with loving eyes.

“jack, baby, it’s ok.” you cooed but he didn’t seem convinced. “you’re still the same jack it’s just you’ll be missing 2% of that smile i love so much.”

“i hate it though.” jack whined. “it makes me sound weird.”

you just stared at him. “it doesn’t matter jack, alright? i still love you and always will.”

“that helped a little.” you just laughed before continuing to talk.

“i have to go and study for that exam i have next week. just make sure you get back safely. call or text me when you’re at the hotel. i love you.”

“i love you too.” jack said back. you said your goodbyes before you hung up and went back to watching the tv. you kept laughing at the thought of jack coming home with a missing tooth.

idk if i hate or love this. but wtv. his tooth is now gone 😔😔 ALSO THE WAY LUKE COULDVE SAID MORE ABT JACKS TOOTH IF HE WANTED TO BUT KNEW JACK WOULD BEAT HIS ASS IF HE DID AND PROB TOLD HIM NOT TO SAY ANYTHING ABT IT IS JS SO FUNNY TO ME!! jack literally reminds me of a pirate with taht crusty ass heard 🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️

[mischivousvoid]

This might be a weird take, but I feel like people's recent hate of Ford and ignorance of Bills crimes in the GF fandom says less about the fandom and more about how well Ford and Bill are written.

It's a well-known fact that most people online can't comprehend complex characters. It's going to happen, like, everywhere. But why is there not as many people blaming or hating the complex character who actually is a villain of the story? The one objectively more in the wrong?(Y'know, Bill)

Because Ford feels real. Bill doesn't.

Bill is a supernatural entity that nobody expects to ever meet in real life, it's easy to disconnect from his flaws because he's a walking talking triangle. And most importantly, despite being openly evil, he's charismatic in terms of personality and stupidly entertaining to watch.

Not to mention that before the book of Bill, everyone was already blatantly aware of Bill being evil, what they discovered upon reading the book is the opposite - things that would make you sympathetic towards him, his hurt and inner thoughts, something people could relate to. So, of course people would focus on those more. And exadurate it. And frankly, it's exactly what Bill wants. He's manipulated everyone into liking him by showing this, because now he wants something from you, the reader. You're no longer the passive audience, Bill has reached to you directly and is trying to make a deal. He's performing for you specifically. "See, I ain't so bad:)". Obviously he kinda fails in his usual ways due to his misunderstanding of humans and emotional instability making him vulnerable. But ultimately, he still got what he wanted from some people...

Then what about Ford? Well, frankly I think the book of Bill pushed him more "in the front" and people have started to actually analyse his character rather than overlooking it on the surface level.

And discovered that, oh wow, Ford has flaws.

He's always had them, but they're hidden in his behaviour and the framing of the show that's seen through the eyes of Dipper and Mabel just doesn't paint him in negative light. And seeing as there isn't even that much of interactions between Mabel and Ford, it's more so through Dippers eyes, who deeply admires Ford. You need to dig to see the flaws and well people haven't collectively done so until now, focusing more on the characters with more screentime.

And now that they have it's like. "Oh wow, this guy is kinda... morally gray". And more importantly, they notices that he's self-centered(not selfish, self-centered, big difference!). Ford is stuck in his own head, he's distrustful and paranoid, he has unhealthy coping mechanisms. And it shows. He's not a blatantly terrible person, but he's made terrible choices and decisions and he's hurt people. And some of it is because he was manipulated and abused by Bill, but some is just because of his core flaw. The self-centeredness. It feels like Ford doesn't see past his nose, he deeply believes that everything revolves around him and the only truth is his truth. He needs to feel important, to matter. Desperately. It doesn't just mean that he sees himself as the hero, the saviour and the genius. It also means that in the low moments he sees himself as so much lesser than and that he's absolutely convinced everyone does. That he's convinced all his paranoia is at all times justified. He fundamentally cannot put himself in other people's shoes. And yes that hurts others, and it also hurts him because he jumps to the worst conclusions (such as about Stanley and his intentions) and he becomes convinced he has to be right.

Ford is also, and I'm sorry for saying this, questionably likeable. He's socially awkward and nerdy and many people like that, but it's just objectively not as charismatic. His attempts at being cool, are, well... dorky. And it's endearing in a way, but it's not raw charisma. It doesn't captivate and capture as many people as Bill's fun personality, it doesn't distract from who Ford is. And that's on purpose, because Ford's personality is real. And Bill is performing constantly as part of the act to conceal for bad he is.

If you've had the misfortune of meeting a master manipulator like Bill, oh boy am I sorry for you. But I bet for a very long time you were convinced that person is cool before you escaped them, the experience was almost surreal, right? You can swear they were so fun to hang out with, you didn't even notice when it's gotten so bad. Or maybe, you never even got close to them and on the surface they were just so fun and then you find out how horrible they are through the grape vine, and you ask yourself "wow, really, that guy?".

And truly, most people won't even meet a person like that.

But Ford? You've met a Ford.

In a way, at least.

You've definitely met someone who's so in their head they aren't always pleasant. And that guy doesn't care about appearances - he's not lying to you. Just doesn't see things in a different way. And they're open about it, they will tell you that they're right.

And I bet that, if you got close to a person like that, they unintentionally hurt you. They're not... all that, no. But they're dismissive. They don't understand. They hold grudges because they just can't believe your perspective, not even because they do not want to. They will fluctuate between never taking accountability and defending their actions to death and apologizing and agonising so much that you have to comfort them about their own mistakes because suddenly they're the worst person in the world and everything is their fault. And you know, it hurts. It hurts because you love them, because there's so many genuinely good things about them. But it's so mentally exhausting to keep up with their emotional issues that you slowly start resenting them anyway.

And if you have never gotten close to someone like that, perhaps if you didn't find a part of them charming immediately, you've still met them - you just found them mildly annoying. It's the "Um, actually" guy. The "correct your grammar and pronounciation" guy. Even if they're right it's just so. "God, they're a stuck-up asshole." Even if that's objectively not true because they volunteer to rescue kittens every weekend and have invented the cure for cancer.

And it's so much easier to dislike the real problem. You've never met a dimension destroying monster, nor someone who could control your body in a literal way, nor, you know, a "demon". (At least I fucking hope so?). You've met someone who didn't mean to hurt you but couldn't help it. You've met an annoying kinda stuck-up smart guy. And now you see that guy in Ford and you cannot unsee it and you're projecting your feelings.

[avans-j]

With the resurgence of gravity falls I finally watched it for the first time, and something that struck me and that I’ve been thinking about a lot, is how Ford is just so…… normal?? When he comes back through the portal??? 😭 he acts like he was only gone for a moment, like he went on vacation or something.

Like I understand that it’s a kids show and they didn’t have time to delve into this much, but I like to think about what Ford would have realistically been like upon his return. I mean, the guy was stuck in another dimension for 30 years… there’s no way he didn’t go a little crazy during that time.

I mean first of all, Fiddleford only caught a glimpse of what was on the other side, and it drove him to insanity. Ford actually went all the way through!! And was stuck there!! For 30 years!! Granted he knew about Bill and who’s to say Bill didn’t show or tell him about other worlds during their time working together, so Ford was probably more accustomed to weird and paranormal things than Fidds, but also we have no idea what happened on the other side during those 30 years. And where did he end up? I think it’s safe to assume the first place Ford landed was the nightmare realm, where he would have seen horrifying creatures beyond comprehension. That must have been a little traumatizing, even to a scientist right?

Then you also have to consider what was going through Ford’s head in the moment right after getting sucked through the portal. He probably had to quickly come to terms with the realization that he was never going home. At that time, the only people that knew about the portal were him, Fidds, and Stan. He was stuck on the other side unable to do anything. Fidds was actively going insane and probably never wanted to see the portal again. And Stanley? We know that Stan had enough care and determination to never stop trying to fix the portal, but to Ford his brother was a clutz and not the sharpest tool in the shed, plus they had just had a massive argument. Ford most likely had no hope that Stan could ever fix the portal, or even want to for that matter. He must have felt overwhelming dread, knowing that in a matter of seconds he had lost his entire world, his entire life, and would never go back home again.

So what was he doing on the other side for 30 years? In my mind there are two options. He either immediately went into survival mode, and spent the rest of his life exploring other dimensions and trying not to die. OR he started looking for a way home, either through a new route or trying to build another portal. Clearly that didn’t work because he was stuck there for 30 years. But imagine him trying hopelessly, over and over again, to find a way home. Constantly thinking about the life he lost, getting more and more discouraged every time an attempt didn’t work. After 10-15 years of that you would start to lose it a little.

And then, can we talk about how he returned home?? From what we saw of the portal and other machines under the shack, it was scanning each dimension until it found the one where Ford was located, then upon reactivating it opened a portal there. And Ford immediately came through, which says to me that it must have opened directly in front of or next to him. Can you imagine the confusion, after 30 years of either straight survival mode or trying desperately to get home, one random day a vaguely familiar portal just happens to open next to you?? You step through and just like that, you’re home? That abrupt change must have messed with Ford’s head. He probably wouldn’t think that it was real for a long time. He wouldn’t have recognized his brother, he wouldn’t have believed that he was actually home. It would take a long time to readjust.

But in the show Ford is just so normal, picking right back up where they left off and punching Stan. I feel like realistically, he would have been terrified, paranoid that it was a trick, not trusting anyone. He would have been quick to lash out for a long time, impossible to calm down, and he would definitely have some screws loose. Anyways I just like the idea of insane Ford.

Thanks for listening to my Ted Talk :]

[musekicker]

Wrote some monster falls, slight Billford vibes to it, with head canons on what a sphinx Ford's weakness would be.

The hunter had introduced himself as Bill. A wisp of a man, skin having a tan from spending a lot of time in the sun it seemed. Hair that was almost gold color, a lock of it covering one eye as if it were not there. And large, yellow triangle tattoo on his left shoulder.

The sphinx that called himself Ford would had been able to avoid the sleep dart that Bill had fired at Ford's front, left leg if not for the fact that Bill had taken advantage of one of a sphinx's great weaknesses. A riddle.

Unsolved riddles and puzzles were just a sphinx's Achilles heel. Stanley had once taken a rubix cube that Ford had solved and with a couple of turns unsolved the puzzle.

Ford could fix the cube easily. It was only a couple of twists in the same direction after all. That had not been the point though. The point was a unsolved puzzle was like nails on a chalkboard to a sphinx.

So despite his situation of a thick, metal collar around his neck, connected to a thick chain that was bolted to the floor, Ford had to ask the hunter the question that was still burning in his head.

"What was the answer?" Ford asked.

"Answer to what?" Bill asked.

"The riddle."

Now Bill seemed to know what Ford was talking about. He smirked.

"Drives you crazy to not know the answer, doesn't it?" Bill asked with the ever so slight tilt of the head.

Ford open mouth snarled, tail lashing. As dangerous as Ford's fangs and claws could be, they were useless when he was chained in place. And Bill knew that. The hunter even had the nerve to stand close to Ford, just inches away. Daring Ford to try and lunge for him. 

He would had if Ford had not made the quick calculation that Bill was just a inch out of his reach. Ford was still snarling when Bill spoke again.

"Okay, okay. I'll be nice and give you the answer. That answer being is there is no answer!"

Ford stopped snarling.

"I just said something that sounded like it be a riddle." Bill said.

Ford stared at Bill for a long moment. At first Ford was hoping that this was just a joke on Bills part and that he would give Ford the real answer next. That did not happen.

"You're... you're serious aren't you?" Ford asked.

Bill cackled.

"I'm not sure what's the most funny thing. Your face right now or the fact that you were stupid enough to be fooled by random words because they were framed as a riddle." Bill said.

Ford was speechless. He had been distracted by a bunch of nonsense words that sounded mysterious. And now he was a captive of a hunter. Ford felt very stupid in the moment.

"So now I suppose you're going to kill me." Ford said finally.

Bill was still smiling. The man had not stopped smiling since Ford had first ran into him. Did he have another expression at all?

"Now that's not just true. I don't kill every monster I come across. You're great example." Bill said. "I'm thinking you'll make a nice pet."

Bill looked up, in a moment of thought.

"I'm thinking a magic collar and lead for you."

Ford was snarling again. He was already angry about the hunters plan. But Bill was about to make things so much worse.

"Not to say I won't kill anything I come across. Some monster parts are worth a lot. But the main reason I was in the area mainly was to bring another monster back alive. Did you know that  some folks would pay a lot for the gargoyle?"

The mention of Stan froze Ford.

It had never occurred to Ford that Bill was here for anyone specific. He had thought that Bill had just came across Gravity Falls and it's monster citizens and thought to himself that he had found the jack pot. Now that seemed like it was not the case.

How long had Bill known about Gravity Falls? How long did he know about Stan? And how much did this hunter know about his family?

Bill took in the shock on Ford's face like it was sunshine on his face and grinned wider.

"Oh yeah. With their natural protection of their home instincts and a lot of training, they make good guards for rich peoples homes." Bill said.

Ford had already been worried that Bill would try to go after his family. Now that Bill had confirmed that he was planning to go after Stan, the horror of the situation was truly starting to hit.

Bill then turned his back on Ford. A chance to attack.

Ford pulled at the chains again. He had forgotten for a moment that they were there and attempted to lunge at Bill. As he had calculated the chain just came up too short for Ford to reach Bill, even with his claws. The collar and chain around his neck pulled at his throat and he gagged midway through his angry roar.

Bill had turned then, seeing Ford's fully spread wingspan, those exposed fangs. The sharp claws that could slice and rend. The hunter found beauty in that danger. He let out a low whistle, his gaze fixed on Ford.

"Magnificent." Bill said.

There was something about Bill's gaze that made Ford feel like a bug being pinned. A specimen that was only alive because there was some sort of fondness for them alive.

As much as Bill could had gazed at his new pet forever, he had a hunt to get to. He turned away again, talking as he stepped over to a wall. A wall covered with various monster hunting tools. Nets, guns. Even more specific things for certain monsters. Golden reigns that could control pegasi, a lantern to attract light obsessed creatures.

"Sorry six beans. You and your family are just worth too much to ignore." Bill said.

Bill chose his tools for this hunt quickly. Like he had been thinking about it for awhile. There was what looked like a flash light as part of the tool set, chains. But what terrified Ford the most was the glint of light off sharp metal tips for the next tools Bill chose.

Bear traps.

Bill looks back to Ford, grinning viciously.

"I'm pretty sure if either a certain deer or unicorn just step in just the wrong place, their screams will get your brother to leave the shack. And come right to me." Bill said.

The horror of Bill's words brought out more then a snarl. No. This time Ford out right roared. The one more lunge attempt. It was as useless as it had been before. But Ford did not stop pulling at the chains and roaring.

Bill picked up a gun Ford recognized. The dart gun that had knocked Ford out in the first place.

"You need to relax. I can help with that."

The dart was in Ford's right shoulder before he knew it. Almost instantly he could not keep himself standing. He sank to the floor, his vision swimming. Bill approached Ford, gun still in hand and with caution. When Ford didn't try to bury his fangs into Bill's leg, the hunter took that as a sign that he could fully approach.

"I need a wing feather." Bill said, reaching for one of Ford's grand red and gold feathers. "In case I need a back up plan."

Ford only winced at the pull of the feather, so out of it. And as Bill left, everything completely went black.

[tinfoil-jones]

Gravity Falls: For Your Own Good, Ch.21

Summary: A few years after moving to Gravity Falls and having his lab built, Stanford Pines happens upon his estranged twin brother, Stanley. He mentally prepared himself to be suffocated by his brothers neediness all over again - what he wasn't prepared for was Stanley walking right past him like he didn't even notice him.

Rating: M for language, violence, and adult implications

Preface: Dialogue only, but some actions will be annotated for clarity. Cross-Posted on AO3 Here.

The scene between Ch.20 and Ch.21 (the immediate result of Ford seeing Stans death, and Bills reveal) was not shown on purpose. Because it was a very emotionally intimate affair. It's up to the readers' interpretation how Ford and Stan reacted after they left the dreamscape. I will tell you this time Ford was HONEST-honest, like he even told him the truth about Bill and that's how Stan came back.

Bill's Nicknames:

Ford: Fordsy, Sixer, IQ

Stan: Slick, (ex)Conman, PTSD Barnum

Fiddleford: (The) Hick, Glasses, McSuckit

Stan’s Nicknames:

Ford: PhD, Doc, any synonym for the word ‘crazy’

Fiddleford: Specs, Stretch, F

Bill: Lashes, (One-Eyed) Demon, (The) Triangle

“(italics)” Indicates that the speaker is speaking in Spanish (unless stated otherwise). This author only knows English, and I did not want to misrepresent Spanish by using Google Translate.

When people are in the dreamscape together, their dialogue is written normally. But if Bill and Ford are communicating in Fords head without the mindscape, Bills dialogue is in "italics", and Fords dialogue is in 'apostrophes and italics' like thoughts are. Memories are written entirely in italics.

First - Prev - Next

CH.21

RING

RING

CLICK

“Hello, Dr. McGucket speaking.”

“Is it double-doctor yet, F?”

“Well I’ll be! It’s good to hear from the case study himself. How you doin’ this evening, Stan?”

“I’m doing pretty great actually, hiding out from d- Stanford.”

“Still having trouble using real names, darlin?”

“I know now he’s my real, actual, twin. But… I dunno specs, it’s hard to see myself as his brother; there’s still a lot of stuff I don’t remember.”

“Still uncoverin’ small memories' day-by-day?”

“Yeah, mostly going through childhood stuff now… still having trouble with his- our, parents faces. Feelings get too big for my brain to handle with that subject.”

“I'm still beside myself that the key to helping you uncover your lost memories was Stanford’s meditative exercises. The answer was right in front of us the whole time!”

“...Yea’.”

“Stan, have you… thought about reporting yourself as alive to the authorities? I know it’s been over a year since that car accident, but there hadn’t been a body…”

“Not yet… I got a lot of enemies, stretch. I don’t wanna bring all that trouble to Gravity Falls, ya know?”

“Yeah, you bring enough trouble all on your own.”

“Were you always such a smartass, McGucket?”

“I usually hear ‘sassy’.”

“Heh. I’d believe it. By the way, did your beard like the biker chick I sent her way?”

“You can say 'wife' Stan, you don’t have to say beard every time just because we’re- oh that don’t matter none right now. I have half a mind to cane your hands after that disaster.”

“Disaster? Jimmy told me they had a great time!”

“... Stan, when you described this woman to us, you said she was ‘extremely hot, out of this world, and holds other people accountable’.”

“Was I wrong?”

“You didn’t tell us she was a partially undead psychopomp who can transform into a flaming skeleton, and drags people down the fiery yonder under the weight of their sins!”

“I’m not hearing the part where I was wrong.”

“It wasn’t easy explaining to Tater where Old Man Jenkins went…”

“Trust me, if he got dragged ‘down’ he deserved it. Jimmy tried that on me once, and Hell decided I wasn’t bad enough. But hey, sounds like you’ve been having more fun than me.”

“And what have you and Stanford been up to?”

“He’s a little pissy right now.”

“What did you do?”

“Why do you always think I did something?”

“...”

“Point taken. Every time I go into town I pretend to be him, right? Well, the townsfolk of Gravity Falls don’t just think he’s a menace, they also see him as some kind of cryptid too. They’re always wanting to check out his creepy cabin in the woods and whatever freaky science stuff he has lying around.”

“Okay…”

“I may have let some people look at his paranormal stuff while he was asleep in his lab. For a price, of course.”

“Stan!”

“What? It’s not like he’s patenting anything right now, and the grant moneys gonna run out eventually. Especially with the late fee’s he’s accrued over the years. He wants me to stay here, but keeps shooting down my attempts at contributing.”

“Your last attempt at contributing was raiding Mayor Befufftlefumpter’s estate and stealing a Fabergé egg.”

“That was honestly more for me. I’m still mad about him triple-stabbing me when I tried mugging him months ago. That old codger has more ruthlessness than you’d think.”

“Well, you ain't goin' on more revenge quests when I come back down in three days are you? Can you not do that, for me?”

“Fine, I promise; no vengeance plots anywhere in this house.”

(...)

“Stanford’s Log: Vengeance Plot number fifteen.”

“Bill, what are you going on about this time?”

“Just narrating your elaborate revenge scheme against that list of people who tried to kill your brother.”

“Please refrain, my muse.”

“Ah, no fun Fordsy. So, which poor sap are you creating brutal nightmares for this time?”

“Did you finally find that monster from the homeless shelter?”

“I had to jump around the minds of a few vagrants, cops, and humanitarian workers to piece the details together, but it looks like someone already beat you to the punch Sixer. That guy was shanked to death in an alleyway seven years ago over a bag of coarse-grain Himalayan pink salt he thought was crystal meth.”

“I was looking forward to that one… He deserved worse.”

“Aww, don’t be too disappointed Sixer. This next guy is the one who locked him in the trunk of a car and dropped it into a reservoir. Ironically, he has a fear of small spaces and the dark! Also, public speaking. I think you have a fair bit to work with there.”

“Well then. Project me into his mind, and I’ll be sure to be creative.”

(...)

“For the short amount of time you’ve been able to manifest yourself here, you have a surprisingly high degree of control over your mindscape.”

“All ya need is a little imagination PhD, you should try it sometimes.”

“I will stick to what is tried and true.”

“Hey, when am I gonna be able to jump around headspaces like you?”

“I’m afraid it is not an ability that can be learned or taught, manipulating your own mindscape is something you can learn and train in, or have a natural aptitude for like yourself or our mother. The reason I’m able to traverse the mindscape of others is because of my deal with-”

“Meeee!”

“Oh fuck! What are you doing here, ya One-Eyed Demon? I told you you’re not welcome here.”

“Well hello to you too, slick. That’s some way to greet your saviour.”

“If you’re a saviour, I’m Madeline Kahn.”

“Besides; you know good ole’ Fordsy can’t go anywhere without me. We’re partners; through all of time, space, and creepy shipping art.”

“Stanley, Bill, please. Do not make this dream session another fight.”

“I’m watching you, Triangle.”

“Get your two-eyed privilege out of my vertices, ex-con man.”

“Enough. Stanley, as far as your memories go this may be a painful topic, but somebody had to have tampered with your car. Do you have any idea who would’ve done that?”

“Lots of people have tried to kill me so I can’t really think of anyone specifically who stands out. As far as hating me the most goes, it's a tie between the IRS and the City of Tijuana.”

“...Why does the City of Tijuana hold such contempt for you?”

“I was banned from there after they figured out the ‘corn tortillas’ I was selling were really just flour tortillas I mixed with sand.”

“...You are being serious, right now?”

“Mhmm.”

“There is an entire city’s worth of people in Mexico who would go out of their way to tamper with your vehicle and have you killed just because you were selling them flour tortillas and telling them they were corn tortillas?”

“I wouldn’t say the whole city, just their judicial department, police force, a dozen clubs, at least seven gangs, a prison, and this one guy who sold even worse tortillas.”

“They should have drawn and quartered him.”

“Bill!”

“Some crimes just can’t be forgiven, Fordsy.”

(...)

“Saddle up, Stan.”

“I’ve never used one of these, Jimmy…”

“Better learn quick, before the Taxman gets you first, (brother).”

“How old were you when this happened, Stanley?”

“Oh, god, I don’t really remember. Eighteen? Nineteen? I wasn’t new-new to the streets, but I was pretty fresh compared to the rest of the biker gang.”

“You were still a teenager, and she just handed you a shotgun?”

CLICK-CLICK

“I’ll put ya inta the fuckin’ ground!”

“Are you?”

“I-I…”

“Are you really going to shoot me, son?”

“Yeah!”

“Well do it then, shoot me.”

“... Oh for fucks-”

CRACK

“Didja shoot him, Stan?”

“...Yeah, I killed him. He’s dead.”

“Good, let’s get the fuck out of here, (run quickly)!”

“You didn’t shoot him?”

“Naw, just cracked him with the buttstock… I never killed nobody, doc. I was always kinda soft compared to the other guys, ya know?”

“I wouldn’t say that makes you soft, it’s admirable that despite everything, there were lines you wouldn’t cross. And, about that taxman…”

“Yeah I dunno what shit the IRS is on, and it didn’t matter what name I was using, they always managed to find me.”

“That agent you just spared went to your ‘funeral’.”

“I’m not surprised, he was always telling me that it wasn’t over.”

(...)

KNOCKKNOCKKNOCK

“Oh no, holy shit, we need to leave.”

“Stanley, what are you talking about?”

“I know that knock, that’s the cops. Doc, we gotta run!”

“Don’t be ridiculous, why in the right mind would-”

CRASH

“STANFORD FILBRICK PINES THIS IS THE TIME PARADOX AVOIDANCE ENFORCEMENT SQUADRON AND BY THE ORDER OF TIME BABY YOU ARE WANTED UNDER SUSPICION OF MEMORY TRESPASSING, RECKLESS PERCEPTION DILATION, AND UNLICENSED NIGHTMARE FUELING.”

“...Stay here, Stanley. I’m going to see what it is they want.”

“Wait-.”

“Stay here, don’t follow me.”

“...Fine.”

“This is Dr. Stanford Pines. How can I help you?

“Dr. Pines, I am Agent Lolph and this is my partner, Agent Dundgren. We are agents under the cosmic being known as Time Baby, and you are under arrest for suspicion in extradimensional criminal affairs. ”

‘Cipher, can they do this?’

“Yes, cosmic authorities are beyond the need for warrants.”

‘Is there anything I can do?’

“Say ‘I invoke Globnar’.”

“What is that?”

‘Just do it, Fordsy. I can't represent you in transdimensional court, and you really don't want me to.’

“Does The Accused have anything to say? Anything you say can and already has been used against you in future court.”

“I invoke Globnar.”

“Are you challenging us to Globnar?”

“Say yes. To avoid charges.”

“Yes. To clear the accusations against me.”

“So be it. May Time Baby have mercy on your soul. You have 48 hours to prepare.”

(...)

“Ya telling me you breaking into peoples mind has been a real, cosmic level crime this whole time?!”

“Yes… More specifically, doing so without permission. I had your consent to access your dreamscape, so that instance wasn’t illegal.”

“God, PhD, how many brains have you been breaking and entering?”

“Details are not important.”

“And what did Lashes tell you about this… Glob thing?”

“It is gladiatorial time combat, in which tributes can either find justice, or face the whims of the winner.”

“So you’re going to fight those guys?”

“That might be one of the challenges, there are several. It is a point-based system.”

“Let me go with you.”

“Absolutely not, Stanley! I will not subject you to the consequences of-.”

“Come on, doc. There’s two of them, and I’ve dealt with all kinds of pigs before; foreign, domestic, transdimensional, and space-faring.”

“No. That’s my final answer. Do not bring this up again. I will be fine.”

(...)

“Hey Doc, I’m back from the- what’s with that get up?”

“You told me the multiverse was cold and dry.”

“So you needed a turtleneck, scarf, and ski goggles?”

“Yes.”

“And what’s with the belt around your chest?”

“What if I need to sling something like a gun onto my back?”

“And it’s all black because…?”

“I don’t need to hear fashion judgement from you when your knit cap is covering almost all of your head.”

“I was pretending to be you in town again, genius. Is this… this how you’re preparing for that Nobglar thing?”

“Globnar, Stanley. They’ll be here in twenty minutes… are you going to try to convince me to bring you along again?”

“Would it work if I did?”

“No.”

“Figured as much. Before you go, can I at least wish you luck?”

“... I’d appreciate that.”

"High six?”

“High six.”

CLICK

*Looks down and see’s Stan jabbed him in the abdomen with the tranquilizing gun. Looks back up at Stan. Looks back down at the gun slightly longer. Then looks back up at Stan again.*

“I’m sorry, Stanford.”

*Stan rips off his beanie. His hair’s been cut to the same length as Fords*

“But this is for your own good.”

To be continued…

[skeletboi]

Part 13 of the Intridimensional AU!

First /// Previous /// Next

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Ford woke with a start when he heard a clatter down the hall followed by a loud swear. He sighed and stretched, trying to work the kink out of his neck. Fiddleford was sure to give him hell about sleeping in his study again, but he had a lot to catch up on after the impromptu two day road trip, and couldn't afford to sleep now. He stood from his chair and adjusted his glasses, taking a deep breath to steel himself for whatever mess Stanley had just made.

He made his way down the hall, heading for the kitchen, when he heard Fiddleford's laugh from the parlor.

“You coulda told me it was spring loaded! Sixer is going to kick my ass out so fast!” He heard Stanley say.

Ford frowned and made his way to the parlor, where he found Fiddleford kneeling in front of Stan with a small toolbox at his side.

Fiddleford looked up at the motion in the doorway and smiled brilliantly at Ford.

“Mornin’ Stanford. Did ya actually get some sleep for once?” He asked.

“Some.” Ford said. “What are you two doing?”

“Making out, obviously.” Stan said quickly before Fiddleford could answer.

Fiddleford turned bright red and shot up.

“No! We sure as heck weren't doin’ that! I was jus’ fixin’ ta tryin’ out the new robit leg!” He said, waving his hands frantically.

Ford raised an eyebrow as he looked from Fiddleford's red face to Stan's smug smile.

“Right. How is that working out?” He asked, stepping further into the room to get a better look at Stan's leg.

“It's fucking great!” Stan said. “Although Fidds here didn't warn me about the spring loaded knife holder he put it in, so I owe you a new lamp. Put it on my tab.”

“Fidds?” Ford asked, frowning.

“Your ‘assistant’ here. Ya know, Fidds!” Stan said, smiling mischievously.

“You used to call me that all the time in college, Ford. You still call me that ‘cassionally. It don't bother me if Stan calls me that, too.” Fiddleford said, leaning down to pack up some of his tools.

“I am aware of that, yes. I just find it… interesting that Stan is calling you that.” Ford said, doing his best not to pout and surely failing.

“I got myself a long name, seems only natural. Anyways,I'm ‘bout done here and was gonna make some breakfast. You wanna join?” Fiddleford asked as he packed the last of his tools.

“I have a lot of work to catch up on.” Ford responded, glancing away.

“Work-schmerk. Eat somethin’ will ya? I haven’t seen you consume more than a protein pill and coffee since you dragged my sorry ass out of that motel.” Stan said.

“‘Least have some toast, Stanford. I did plenty of work while you were gone. I know ya like yer schedule, but it ain't no rush- it's not like we got a real deadline.” Fiddleford added.

“Keeping to the schedule is paramount!” Ford replied.

“For who? Do you have a boss you're not telling me about?” Fiddleford asked jokingly.

“No!” Ford responded too quickly, making Stan and Fiddleford jump. “No, I don't have a ‘boss’. I just would prefer to maintain our original timeline.”

Stan stared at Ford, wondering what would cause such a guilty reaction and coming up empty.

“Well I'll meet ya in the lab with some toast in a bit then, but I ain't starvin’ myself to death for yer silly schedule.” Fiddleford said in a way that suggested this was a normal argument between them.

“Fair enough. You know where to find me.” Ford said, turning on his heel and making his way to the lab.

Fiddleford sighed as he stood then turned to Stanley, holding out a hand to help him up.

“That leg is gonna take some real gettin’ used to, so don't rush it.” He said as Stan took his offered hand and managed to get off the couch without falling.

“This definitely feels weird already.” Stan responded, taking a wobbly step forward.

“How's the pain? I know that magic goop healed it up real well, but is it hurtin’ at all?” Fiddleford asked, taking Stan's other hand to lead him another step forward.

“It's not hurting. All I feel is pressure, like my leg is asleep instead of gone.” Stan replied, taking another step and nearly falling.

Fiddleford caught him before he could take them both down and laughed.

“Didn’t I jus’ tell ya to take it slow?”

“Yeah, yeah. I'm not real good at that, though.”

“So impatience runs in the family, too? I ain't too shocked by that.” Fiddleford laughed.

“It didn't used to. Ford used to be way more patient than me.” Stan thought aloud.

“That don’ surprise me much, either. When I met him he was a lot more patient, ‘cept when it came to his work, but he has been actin’ a bit odd as of late. Did he ever sleep walk as a kid?”

“Sleepwalk? No. He was on the top bunk in our room, so I definitely would have noticed.”

“Int'restin’. He didn’ used ta sleep walk in college either and we shared a be- I mean I also wouda noticed. Anyways, he’s been sleep walkin’ a lot recently, but he avoids the question if I ever ask him ‘bout it.”

Stan frowned as he took another step, wondering what could cause sleepwalking in an adult. Stress, maybe? Ford did seem a bit on edge, but Stan had assumed that was because he had found his twin brother missing a leg in a shitty motel room. There was definitely something more going on here, but he had no idea what it was.

“Why you?” Stan asked, looking up at Fiddleford.

Fiddleford frowned in question.

“I mean, he's out here lookin’ for monsters or aliens or something, right? Why does he need a mechanic?” Stan clarified.

“Ah, right. Well he's workin’ on this project that was a bit more complicated mechanically than what he’s use ta doin’.” Fiddleford explained, sounding suddenly nervous.

“That is a very vague answer, Fidds.” Stan deadpanned.

“I- I don’ quite know howta ‘splain it. I don’ even know how he done came up with the idea… I-I-” Fiddleford stuttered.

“Okay, okay. Sorry, Fidds. Didn't mean to stress you out, I was just making conversation. We can talk about something else.”

Fiddleford nodded, a nervous smile on his face that just made Stan more curious.

“Well then, Ford mentioned you left your wife and child behind in California to work for him, that seems a bit more than casual!” Stan said with a shit-eating grin.

Fiddleford neary tripped backwards.

“Well! I- No! I love my son, I'm goin’ back! I jus’ gotta help Stanford here a bit longer, I reckon!” Fiddleford said quickly.

“Right, right. Interesting that you mentioned your son, but not your wife.” Stan said, his smile widening.

“Stanley! I will let you fall! ‘Course I love my wife! I jus’... well I didn't expect Stanford to ever reach out ta me after college, I ‘spose.” Fiddleford responded, his voice fading as he talked.

“That's a pretty intense pickle you got yourself in, isn't it?” Stan asked.

“It ain't no pickle. Stanford has always cared about his work more than anythin’. I've known that since the first week I met ‘im. He'll do this project a his either way, and we'll go our separate ways. He'll forget ‘bout me ‘ventually.”

“But you won't forget about him?” Stan asked, and didn't miss the way Fiddleford flinched at that.

“Well yeah, I ‘spose I'll hafta forget him, too.” He responded quietly, his gaze distant.

Stan frowned, unsure how to respond after that sudden change in demeanor.

“Well, I think your wife could forget about you, too. So there's that.” Stan said after a moment.

Fiddleford made a face and dropped his hands from Stan's, causing Stan to wobble and nearly fall over. Stan huffed but took the hint. He wouldn't be getting through to these nerds easily, but at least it was entertaining.

“Less talkin’, more focusin’ on your steps.” Fiddleford said, taking Stan's hands back in his own to steady him.

“Sorry, mom. I'm focusing.” Stan mumbled.

Fiddleford huffed out a laugh and continued to lead Stan forward. It was getting easier with each step, but Fidds was right- this would take some serious getting used to.

____________________________________________

Well, life is a distopian nightmare, but these boys are keeping me sane. (for now)

Stan is a menace, and I love that for him.