#stan and ford

[s1llyg0th]

I made a poll like forever ago asking who I should draw and Stan Pines won but I never drew him cuz life happened so here’s a sketch and a crappy drawing I haven’t finished LOL

[creatimations]

I need them to hug more.

[darlingdaisyfarm]

what brothers are made of

a/n: heyy angels this is my first try at a fic without a reader! just exploring the brothers’ dynamic and their complicated relationship, hope you like the angst<3

tags: Stan and Ford, pre portal, angst

Ford’s the one who called. Ford’s the one who reached out with that damn postcard, asking for Stan’s help, and god, Stan wanted to believe. wanted to think that things could be different this time. maybe Ford really did need him, maybe this wasn’t another one of his schemes, his obsession with things that were so far beyond Stan that it made him dizzy just thinking about it.

but to his disappointment, when he gets here, when he stands face to face with his brother, all he sees is cold, logical desperation that makes him want to vomit. its the same thing that’s always been there, however, more paranoid than ever. Ford can’t stop himself from being consumed by his own mind and that’s exactly what’s gotten him here, hasn’t it?

Stanley wants to scream, wants to shake Ford, make him see. 

“responsibility? oh, that’s funny, coming from the guy who built a goddamn death machine in his basement and called me up to clean up his mess!”

“you don’t know what you’re talking about! this isn’t a ‘mess,’ Stanley. this is—”

“it’s bullshit!” Stan pulls the crumpled postcard from his pocket and flings it to the ground. “you didn’t call me here because you care about me. you never cared about me, sixer. you called me because you needed someone to hold your precious hand while you play god!”

“you’re so goddamn selfish,” Ford spits, shoving Stan toward the door. “you can’t stand the idea that i might actually accomplish something, can you?“

“fuck you, just fuck you! you think you’re better than me? you think this— this thing makes you better?”

“get out,” Ford says coldly, trying to hold his emotions. because that’s what Ford learned growing up, right? keep your feelings hidden. be the smart one, the quiet one. and when you need to, just get out of the room before you say something that can never be taken back. control, control, control.

because if he lets go, if he really opens up, he’ll have to confront everything. all of it. the hurt, the betrayal, the loneliness, the failure, his fears. and that’s a door Ford doesn’t want to open.

but if he did, Stan would see. Stanley would see how much Ford is drowning in his own guilt and fears, his desperation to fix things that can’t be fixed. Stan would see how badly Ford needs him, how much he needs them not as broken rivalry siblings they’ve become, but as the two kids they used to be, throwing their fists at the world together.

if Ford could let it out, he’d tell Stan how scared he’s been, he’d ask him to hug him and would cry into his shoulder. he’d tell him how every night he lies awake, torturing himself with the thought that maybe it was him, his own selfishness that led them to this. if he told Stan the truth, about Bill, he might just collapse under the weight of all the things he’s kept bottled up inside.

when Ford says "get out," what he's really saying is, "I don't know how to talk about this. I don't know how to say I need you, Stanley. I don’t know how to explain that the world I’ve built, all this knowledge I’ve gained, it all turned against me."

"you don’t mean that," Stanley says quietly. “i know you, Stanford. better than anyone. and i know that look in your eyes, you’re scared shitless. you don’t have a clue what you’re doing and instead of admitting it, you’re pushing me away. same as always."

the fight isn’t about the damn portal or journals, it never really was. it was never about science or alternate dimensions or any of the insane plans Ford dreamed up. it’s about them, about that gulf between them that’s grown so wide that Ford doesn’t even know where to begin. and when Stan gets too close, too loud, too angry, Ford pulls away because it’s a defense mechanism. his mind knows that if Stan touches that nerve, if Stan demands the truth, Ford will break. and he can’t let that happen.

when Ford was just a kid, staring out of their bedroom window, dreaming of galaxies and stars, their dad would look at him with proud eyes behind these glasses.

and the way their father looked at Stan, like a problem, that look burned into Stan’s soul. he pushed Stanley out of the house. and now even his own brother was doing the same thing. Stan hadn’t realised how much he still carried that hurt. hadn’t realised how much it still stung.

but Ford wasn’t his dad, he wasn’t the one who pushed Stan down, who told him he wasn’t worth anything. but then why when he looks at his twin, he sees Filbrick? because maybe, in the back of his mind, he is still that little boy, who was rejected and discarded. it’s not Ford, it’s their dad all over again. it’s the front door slamming shut in front of his face when Stan was too young.

you can’t do this to me. you can’t push me away like he did.

“you think you’re so fucking smart, but you don’t get it, do you? you don’t have to do this alone. you don’t have to carry all of this by yourself. but no, you’re too goddamn proud to let anyone in.”

Stanley wants to laugh, but it’s not funny, it’s fucking sad because Ford’s voice isn’t even loud or angry, not like their dad’s had been. Ford’s tone is quiet, restrained, controlled. and somehow that makes it worse.

"what did I say, Stan Pines? keep your stance low. aim for the gut; it’s the easiest target."

maybe that’s why he fought. because this wasn’t about Ford trying to save the world, this was about Ford pushing Stan away again, like their dad did years ago. pushing him out when he was scared, when he needed Ford the most.

Stan fights like their dad taught him. Stan’s punch lands and it hurts more than it should, not because of the impact, but because of the look in Ford’s paranoid eyes. shock, betrayal, but not anger. no, Ford’s not angry. he’s just hurt and maybe scared. and Stan hates that look, hates that he put it there.

Stan wasn’t trying to win in this fight, not like in the old days, when their dad had taken him to boxing gym to teach him a lesson because there Stan fought for respect. for himself. he fought to make sure he wasn’t just another screw up, another worthless kid in his dad’s eyes. boxing was a way to prove he wasn’t weak. and it worked. for a while.

Stan hates it. he hates that they’re here, yelling at each other like they’re still kids, fighting over who got the top bunk or who spilled milk on ma’s favorite tablecloth.

it’s funny in a way, how much this feels like when they were kids. when Ford would retreat into himself, hiding behind his books, while Stanley tried to pull him out to make him see the world the way Stan did.

but the world Ford sees isn’t the same as Stan’s. it never has been. Ford sees logic, patterns, equations and stars. Stan sees chaos, opportunity, feelings and family. they’re opposites, two sides of the same coin, and no matter how hard they try, they just can’t seem to meet in the middle.

Ford’s shove sends Stan stumbling backward, out the door, into the snow and that's when everything collapses under the onslaught of cold, harsh reality. It’s not the physical shock Stan experiences or the pain of hitting the snow-covered ground. because Stan is used to feel physical pain.

it’s realisation.

Ford’s silhouette appears in the doorway, breathing heavily, before he slams it shut. 

the snow keeps falling, covering Stan like a blanket, the same way their mother sheltered him. his blood stains the ground beneath him, but he doesn’t move because he can’t. the fight’s gone out of him, leaving only exhaustion and a hollow ache where his anger used to be.

she’s there, in the warmth of his memories, her soft hands cupping his cheeks, brushing away tears. “oh, my sweet boys,” her voice always sounded like a lullaby. “you’ll always have each other, no matter what.”

Stanley remembers the way she’d pull them close, wrapping her arms around both of them, protecting her kids from the world. at first Ford would squirm, pretending he was too old for hugs, but Stan always clung tight, burying his face in her apron.

“look after each other, boys, promise me, you’ll always look after each other.”

Stan had promised. but promises are funny things. 

they’re easy to make when you’re young and hopeful, when the world hasn’t yet shown you how cruel it can be. they’re much harder to keep when everything falls apart.

a sob tears its way out of his chest and Stan lets it. he lets the snow take him, lets himself lay there like that, because he thinks he deserves this.

Ford’s face flashes in his mind, not angered face he just fought, but the younger one. the one who used to sneak into his bed at night, scared of thunderstorms. the one who used to build sandcastles with him at the beach, the one who always supported him

“i’m sorry, ma, i tried. i really tried.”

the snow keeps falling and Stan closes his eyes.

[gfthe-fearsome-foursome]

How's Shermie doing?

"Sherm? Last I checked he was doin' fine. We FaceTimed him a couple days ago."

"He's busy with work, but I'll tell him you guys checked in! Thanks!"

[sunnylolli]

Something, something, what if it all went really wrong and they were forced to speed-run the brotherly bonding

[bogglle]

sea grunks bonding because I feel like the universe needs more of it

[evilincoperated]

Look how happy he is to be besties with his brother again 😭

[go-star-sailor]

strange old guys

[creepst-crypt]

Pt 2 to “A name you can still kinda trust!!!”

Politics aside, rest in peace to the people who died and my condolences to anyone who was hurt in the audience.

(I’m nowhere near right winged, I do not like tr*mp ^^^^)

[joicecubes]

the implications of ford pulling this photo out of his trenchcoat in the last episode you guys… THE IMPLICATIONS.

look at the state of this thing!! look at its rips! the stain in the bottom right corner! it’s dog-eared, the color is faded, the paper has browned… he’s kept this photo of them since they were kids. through all the years he stubbornly swore to hold a grudge, all the years he and stan never spoke, he kept this photo.

and we can assume he probably didn’t have it dimension-hopping, since i find it hard to believe he would’ve had it on him when he initially got sucked in, but ford pulling it out of his trenchcoat here!! implies!! that he had been CARRYING IT AROUND WITH HIM for some time after he got back!

imagine if he found it in some of his old stuff the night he returned, after punching and yelling at stan, after being sure to keep as much emotional distance between them as possible, and he finds this photo. would he have stared down at it? for a little while? smoothed the creases out on his desk? thumbed the torn, loved edges while he mourned a simpler time? then pocketed the thing to always have it with him?

i dunno. maybe i’m looking too far into it. but i can’t help but wonder if ford kept it because, against all his big dreams and ambitions, deep down he always wondered what his life might have been like if he sailed away with his brother when they were teenagers. never able to throw it away because doing so would symbolically destroy the last remnants of a childhood fantasy, the last piece of him that remains young and hopeful of a future at his brother’s side.

[misteria247]

I'm realizing that Stan is actually incredibly smart. Like in a Ford kind of way to some extent.

Like yes Stan's street smart and life smart but he's also got the smarts that Ford's praised for. Because he had rebuilt the portal and figured out his brother's notes and equations.

Like do you know how hard math is on Ford and Fiddleford's level of expertise??? How complicated and delicate it is????? Especially the kind that brings portals to life???? And Stan figured it out. Had taught himself to read and comprehend these difficult things. Difficult things that requires college degrees in science and mathematics.

And Stan did this on an incomplete high school grade level of academics.

That's fucking nuts. Sure it took 30 years but he learned it. By himself, can you imagine how frustrated he got, teaching himself Ford's educational level??? Using his mechanical skills of fixing his car to be up to par to Fiddleford's impressive craftsmanship????

And I can just see how Ford and Fiddleford react post apocalypse. Ford doing equations and science stuff and talking while Fiddleford listens and gives his input when Stan pipes up unintentionally and puts his hat into the ring. And it's mathematically sound?? And these two men are just blown away cuz what the actual hell?? Ford's immediately questioning Stan, wanting to hear his thoughts while Fiddleford watches impressed and Stan's mortified and a bit overwhelmed. Or Fiddleford working on something and Ford's watching him when Stan points out a better way to make a part work and Fidds is like omg thank you Stanley??? And Ford's looking at his little brother dumbfounded and itching to bomb him with questions and whatnot.

Stan never knows peace afterwards.

[goreroll]

collab of the year

poor Dipper is already thinking of an escape plan xP

[creatimations]

THE SWEETIES!!

I couldn't resist a quick doodle of them in this! Mabel found the old photo and just HAD to recreate it for Hanukkah. Stan may LOOK grumpy but he's having a great time, don't worry.

A little early but I couldn't help myself:3

ALT BELOW THE CUT!

[spleenthecat]

"oh i love sea grunks because they both work out all of their problems together and have clear communication!" WRONG. i love sea grunks because you know that both of them are getting thrown overboard multiple times a week because stan stole fords glasses, then ford made jokes about stans fanfiction, then stan shot back about fords fanfiction, then ford stole stans glasses in retaliation. and in the process of trying to tackle ford, stan throws them both overboard and afterwards they sit on the deck facing opposite directions, pouting, while looking like sad wet cats.

then they get over it, the exact same thing happens 2 days later and the cycle repeats.

[gfthe-fearsome-foursome]

What's everyone's opinion on undertale?

"I never really had time to play the game— STANFERD! STANLEY! STOP IT!"

"SANS IS NESS?! SHUT UP WITH THAT!"

"HAHAHAHAHA!"

Bonus under the cut!

"Most of what I know from the game comes from Fordsy's rants, I just like the music!"

[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.