oldwiseguy

[foodtruckery]

I'm back again even though I just sent an ask I'm too eager to dump more idea on you lmfao

But its occured to me weve all been talking about stan going into heat but we havent really touched on the idea of ford going into a rut 👀 either it happens when he gets back out of the portal and it's some good hate fucking with his so angry and delirious that he cant tell if hes trying to bitch stan or just own him and then once hes got him knotted hes expecting that heat in his gut to fade but instead it's just burning hotter, his hips are twitching still and when stan squirms (just trying to adjust more than struggle because damn hes in his 60s and getting knotted on a basement floor is probably terrible for his back) ford cant help but clamp his teeth into stans throat, instinct telling him to keep stan pinned. His rut doesn't care that stan is an alpha (as far as he knows lol) and honestly ford himself barely cares at this point. Hes back in his home dimension. Hes back in his /home/ hes got stan under him as hes always wanted as he always should have had him because ford /deserves/ this. It's a sticky long mess with ford possessiveness really rearing its head through the rut

OR maybe the paranoia and the stress and the torture from bill all culminate into it because it's like bill is threatening his territory, and then stan shows up and the focus of most of his fantasies is there and /fighting him/ and he just loses it. Stan has to work him through it that first round because it's probably really fucking clear that ford is out of his mind in more ways than one. Hes so weak and exhausted and freaking the fuck out that stan just gets fed up and pins him down and rides a knot out of him (and then ofc bill would ruin things enough that stan has to scramble to get ford in his lucid moments to help explain how to keep bill out of his head and keep them both safe) stan would have SO much on his plate in that time though hed absolutely compartmentalize. Not even allow himself to really focus that hes actually fucking his brother right now (and then hopes that ford was just a little too out of it during the rut to remember that stan was just a liiiittle bit too wet for it to have just been lube)

OR if we want to go even FURTHER back (I'm holding onto your arm and dragging you along we ain't got time to dawdle in this ask I guess) maybe ford uses his rut as his excuse to get close to stan as teenagers. Playing up how uncomfortable it is and pressing up against stan. He doesnt have the guts to ask to fuck him but stan isnt pushing him away so hell take what he can get. Crawling down into stans bed, pretending he just wants to be close to him, claiming his smell helps (which I'm sure it does but maybe a little more than ford is admitting to either of them) then scootching closer and closer until hes pressed up against stan a slow grind turning into desperate dry humping in their bunk bed and telling stan how good he feels how much he needs this you're so good to me Stanley you're so /soft/

(And ofc stan is just doing this because fords in distress right now. Ford needs this. That's all. Him popping a boner is just a natural side effect and he is NOT analyzing this any further)

-🐶

breaking my answering order because you got me fucked up with this one, 🐶, omfg. this is incomplete and might never actually be cleaned up and completed but oh well!

“Jesus, are you gonna calm down or what?” Stan pants, acutely aware of the strain across his shoulders and thighs and the ache in his knees.

Pinned to the ground underneath him, Ford growls wordlessly and tries to twist a wrist free. Well, that answers that question. 

Stan huffs in annoyance and shoves Ford’s wrists along the ground to a spot above his head, hopefully to reduce any leverage he might have. He has questions and a lot of them, but they’re apparently going to have to wait until Ford is capable of using his words again.

“You know, Sixer,” he says, aiming for conversational but coming out a little too winded for that. It’s fine, Ford isn’t gonna be able to tell. “If this weren’t so damn annoying, it might be funny. Y’know, you of all people basically speechless.”

Ford snarls and bucks his hips, and Stan hisses out a curse. 

“I’m workin’ on it, all right?!” he snaps, grinding back down in retaliation, though it only makes Ford rumble under him again. 

“I swear to god, Stanford, this better not be what you asked me to come up here for,” he gripes, squeezing his hands around Ford’s wrists as he works his hips in small, tight circles, trying to relax enough for the next step. It fucking reeks of alpha pheromones in here, and courtesy of his latest drug cocktail, that just has him even more on edge. Probably for the best that one of them is keeping their head on right now.

Ford jerks his hips again, demanding, and Stan grits his teeth when they almost get his stupid fucking knot in him that time. They might be done with this part already if he’d had a chance to loosen up first, or if he could reach down and help himself out. But no!

Shit had gone from weird to weirder from the second he showed up on Ford’s doorstep. Something was clearly going on, and something was clearly wrong, but he’d barely gotten Ford to put the honest-to-god crossbow down before his brother had started spiraling in an equally aggressive but notably different direction. 

He’s trying not to think too much about it, but Stan doesn’t actually know what he’s gonna do if Ford doesn’t settle down a little once they’re locked in together.

“You know, this would be a hell of a lot easier if you would just let me—nngh!” Stan chokes and curls over Ford when a particularly sharp snap of his hips finally gets his knot inside. “F-Fucking ow.”

When Ford doesn’t immediately growl at him, Stan forces himself to sit up a little again, wincing as he settles more fully onto Ford’s scrawny ass hips. The bite of Ford’s zipper against his ass isn’t great, and the fact that he’s got one pant leg still caught around his own shoe from how fast he’d had to shuck them off is also less than comfortable, but heyyy. They did it. 

“Now are you gonna calm the fuck down for a minute?” he says, watching Ford’s expression slowly soften into bleary confusion. 

“…S-Stanley…?” he croaks, and Stan can’t help but wince. He doesn’t even have any water nearby for him. 

“Yeah, that’s me.”

Ford glances around at the mess their tussling has made of his living room (is this a living room?) before looking back at Stan. And Stan sees the moment Ford gets up to speed. More panic, like from the porch, seeps into his expression as he realizes exactly what position they’re in.

“Wh-What happened? What did he— what did he do?!”

“Whoa, hey! Shh, Ford, it’s okay,” Stan insists, leaning down to clumsily press his forehead against Ford’s, bearing more of his weight down to keep him still. “You’re okay. You, uh, went into rut when I got here and…look, you were freaking out, and I was just trying to help. But you’re all right.”

Ford makes a whining noise that sounds horribly out of place given the situation. It’s too high, too shrill, to be coming from an alpha in rut, and it twinges at something in Stan that makes the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. 

“Y-You can’t be here, Stanley,” Ford says, insistent and frantic, and squirming underneath him until Stan’s breath hitches.

“Stop! Stop moving around like that,” he snaps, his own cock twitching as he presses this thighs harder on either side of Ford’s hips to try and hold him in place. “I can’t go anywhere, Poindexter. Not for like twenty more minutes or some shit. And then you’re gonna go out of your fucking head again.”

The look Ford gives him as that sinks in is so horrified that Stan suddenly feels sick. How badly had he fucked up here? He thought— 

Well when they were younger, before he left, and Ford would crawl into his bunk and pant for some kind of help against his shoulder and grind against his hip in the dark, and he’d assumed that was still— shit. 

Shit.

He’d just been trying to help. 

“I…Stanford, f-fuck, I’m sorry,” he stammers, leaning back and letting go of Ford’s wrists. A cold feeling settles into his gut and churns there when Ford doesn’t immediately move his hands. “I— Maybe we can time it good, and I can get some distance before you go under again? Once it goes down, I mean. I—“

A hand touches his cheek and startles Stan out of his babbling. Ford’s flushed expression has drawn down into something grim and determined. And it’s obviously taking an effort but his voice is mostly steady when he speaks up again.

“Stanley. It isn’t safe for you here. You have to leave as soon as you can. Do you understand me?”

“…No,” Stan says bluntly, frowning. “The fuck are you talking about? Because of— because of this?” he asks waving between them.

He’s even more confused when Ford shakes his head. 

“No! Well. Partially, but not—“ Ford growls, low and angry and Stan can fucking feel it where they’re still tied together. “I’m not going to have time to explain it, Stanley. I shouldn’t have asked you to come. You have to leave. Immediately.”

“…Are you fucking kidding me?” Stan demands, swatting the hand off his face and leaning back as far as he’s able when Ford sits up, biting his tongue hard enough to draw blood to keep from gasping at the way it grinds Ford’s knot inside of him. 

For his part, Ford looks dizzy when he sits up, and Stan thinks he might fall back over, but he manages to keep himself upright.

“Stanley—“

“Are you seriously so freaked out about this that you’re sayin you shouldn’t have reached out in the first place?!”

Ford’s nostrils flare, and despite the heavy bags under his eyes, his pupils are dilating again, his scent spiking with renewed aggression. God dammit, they can’t afford for him to get worked up again this fast, especially not when Stan’s lost his leverage.

“No!” Ford barks, sweat beading at his temples and eyes flicking down between them. “But it isn’t safe here, and I can’t keep him from hurting you like this!”

“Him? Ford, who the fuck are you talking about?” Stan asks, grabbing him by the wrist when a hand starts reaching blindly for his thigh. “Is somebody else in your creepy house?!”

Ford’s eyes are going a little hazy again, and the suggestion of “someone else” being nearby makes him growl menacingly, which isn’t helpful in the slightest. 

Stan grabs him by the other wrist before he thinks to use it and pushes Ford down onto his back again. He goes easily, thank god. “You gotta give me something to work with here, Ford!”

“Bill,” Ford snarls, and Stan looks over his shoulder like he expects to see someone has walked in on them. Who the fuck is Bill?

“Something helpful, dammit,” he says, breath stuttering when Ford rolls his hips like he can’t help himself. He probably can’t. 

“M-My pupils,” Ford manages to get out, his voice gone gravel and unsteady in his throat, like it’s hard to make the shape of words. “They’ll change. Th-That’s Bill.”

Stan honestly has no idea what the fuck that’s supposed to mean. 

But a moment later Ford tries to roll them, and he has to turn his focus to bracing himself and keeping him down. Whatever the fuck is going on, he was right to not let himself get trapped under a rutting alpha. Especially not with Ford dealing with…whatever the fuck this is in the moments that are supposed to be lucid.

When Ford strains to try snapping at his arm or shoulder, Stan presses down and circles his hips again to grind more pointedly against Ford’s knot. The friction and the spike of Stan’s own arousal are enough to at least distract him for the moment, so Stan focuses on that as best he can while keeping an ear out for whoever this Bill character is.

[huginsmemory]

Just. percolating thoughts about Bill, denial and his lies are lies. Bill as a character I'd say is characterized by deep deep denial. He's a character that's both aware and immediately not aware of his feelings and his situation; it's all very doublethink. It's about denying everything and drowning it all out (yeahhhhh big partier? Alcohol and drug abuse? Totally a result of being healthy; not to mention the dissociative episodes he APPARENTLY GETS???).

Because essentially, hes constantly warping his perception of everything occurring around this glass tower he's built of who he is, a ruthless, unfeeling tyrant of a monster, akin to a god (and beloved by humans when he deigns to charm them). This persona is something that he's made in response to his own belief that he's a monster, his own deep insecurities for being a freak and wanting to have proper connection, care and vulnerability with someone that he's lacked. It's a persona built upon self destructive tendencies, denial and the pursuit of pleasure for the purpose of drowning out anything uncomfortable, that he's practiced for trillions of years. And at the same time these insecurities that built this persona are all deeply denied in the way he'll deny that Ford meant everything to him but also when asked if Ford meant nothing to him, backtrack. He's both aware and not aware; he'll never have a thought of 'oh I loved Ford' because that is IMMEDIATELY repressed. He can't even admit that. It doesn't fit who he's supposed to be, it's vulnerable, and we can't have that. This triangle is more repressed than a fucking gay Catholic priest. He's both emotionally literate and completely illiterate because any emotions or situations that don't fit his fictional self gets immediately suppressed/skewed in perspective.

And that's how he's both good and terrible at manipulation, because he knows how to play people and can be very good at it, but his denial gets in the way. That's why you see him not talking about his dimension unravelling to Ford to ask him to make the Portal, instead of pulling the rug out under Ford; because it's vulnerable, it doesn't fit 'him as a monster' and even if it would get his way he can't do that. He mentally cannot even conceive of asking that and can't even in a way to himself accept that his dimension is unravelling and he can't do anything prevent it, can only take over earth instead. And he assumes that Ford will simply just bow to his will because that's what's supposed to happen, right? And it's the same as his lies about all the people he contacted over human history that were annoyed by him; he's too far in denial to even acknowledge that they didn't like him because hes supposed to be loved by all he tries to charm, that's why he puts the pages in to TBOB because he thinks it makes him look good, even if anyone looking at that goes 'yeah that's not what's happening'.

And this is all the most obvious with what he did with his dimension, his guilt around it because if pressed he will never admit those feelings, and he doesn't even admit it too himself; in fact when it's brought up by others such as time baby he gets angry, because his denial over the situation becomes questioned. And it's only ever one instance, that you see Bill admit to vulnerability, to admit to being actually aware of any of all these underlying feelings, and that's the moment that he shares unprompted about Euclydia with Ford, in response to Ford's own vulnerability... in which he indirectly calling himself a monster.

And it's all so fascinating, because if his denial is ever properly cracked enough, oh BABY you know that glass tower is going to shatter, everything is going to come down like a house of cards, and Bill will be left in the wake of everything that he's done, with nothing to shield him emotionally. And so isn't it better to be in denial? To deny he killed his dimension? Doesn't it hurt less than to admit all along it was guilt, it was insecurity, and that after his dimension burned, he's razed civilizations to the ground in denial and self-destruction?

post previous to this (similar vein)

[tiredandoptimistic]

I cannot stop thinking about the poem that comes up if you enter "Stanley" repeatedly and then click on "how he defeated me" a bunch (written out fully with analysis under the cut). I've never been a big Bill fan, but you can bet your ass I'm obsessed with Stan Pines, and I can't believe I never fully thought through the parallels between them.

"Stanley Pines, the common clown,

Always dragged his family down.

One mistake, disowned, denied.

Only thing to do was hide.

One way out: the open road.

Reinvent, retry, reload.

A girdle, eyepatch, father's fez,

'I'm a new man!' so he says.

Couldn't outrun life's regrets,

Just kept placing bigger bets.

Changed his haircut, switched hotels-

Truth is just whatever sells.

When you've lost track of your lies,

When the poison starts to rise,

When the walls are closing in,

When it's clear you cannot win,

When your actions make it worse,

When they see you as a curse,

Give the wheel one last spin,

Take your chips and go all in,

And Lucky Stan- the roll's on black,

He got his life and family back.

His big break, it finally came,

Redemption from a life of shame.

You really think you won the day.

You packed your bags and sailed away.

You think you left the past behind.

But trust me

I'm still on your mind"

Combine this with some of the other things Bill says in the pages leading up to the poem, (calling him "Bootleg Sixer," ranting about how Stan is useless and only defeated Bill by following Ford's plan, etc), and it makes me wonder if Bill ever really believed in his own schemes.

Bill clearly values and respects Ford while deriding Stan, and yet many of the things he criticizes about Stan are also true about himself ("always dragged his family down," "one mistake," "reinvent, retry, reload," "just kept placing bigger bets," hell, "truth is just whatever sells" feels like a direct parallel to "reality is an illusion). In my mind, this implies that on some level he believes that people like him and Stan are destined for misery, but he convinced himself that he'd be satisfied with power and chaos, something that Stan gave up for his family.

Stan is someone who functions like Bill on a surface level while being fundamentally different in ways Bill can't even comprehend. To Bill, it's unfair that Stan "got his life and family back" while he is still alone in the universe, because he can't get his head around the fact that Stan is just a better person who worked to make up for his failures and earn his redemption in a way Bill never did. It wasn't just "his big break," Stan didn't win a bet or something. He spent thirty years committing himself to being the protector of his family and rescuing his brother from the exile he caused, and all that love and effort paid off in the end. He genuinely gave a fuck while remaining goofy and brash. Stan didn't need to become like Ford in order to be worthy, and so he works as an example of how people like them can thrive. It's proof that Bill's chaos isn't inherently inferior, it's Bill himself who couldn't hack it. He can respect Ford as an ally or an adversary, that logic might be able to triumph over chaos; but Bill cannot stand that Stanley was able to beat him at his own game.

[clock-06]

There’s this idea of a dynamic for BillFord that’s been causing havoc in my skull and begs for escape, so it’s gonna get to today.

Basically Ford is more self aware and catches onto the fact that Bill has fallen for him, and starts manipulating him back for his own goals. Cause Ford was already a mad scientist, there’s a reason Bill thought Ford would join him in weirdmaggedon (go re-read the Rudolph thing, he’s pretty unhinged)

Ford was nerdy as hell, and definitely took a psych class in college, and starts using operant conditioning on Bill. While Bill does have feelings for Ford, he still sees him as lesser, because he’s Human, and figures Sixer doesn’t have the capacity to manipulate or disobey him, and by the point it’s an active plan, Ford has conditioned him enough to not even check.

It’s a slow start, but Ford figures out that Bill is more willing to do things for him when he’s given rewards for it, ie, calling him “Muse” tends to make him put more effort into things, he has favorite sweaters that Ford wears and Bill will be more attentive to what Ford wants or needs when he’s wearing them. Eventually, Ford starts using these as rewards when Bill is forwarding Ford’s goals instead of his own, and very soon has a personal and trained dream demon.

By the time the Portal is fully built and operational, Bill has basically told the Henchmaniacs “Hey, we’ll do that apocalypse thing after IQ and I have a little research trip across a few dimensions, I’ve got to make sure he stays safe cause he’s my ticket to the portal” and they’re all like “excuse me fucking what no just kill him” and after the first few protesting comments end with the utterer in dust, the rest of the gang just shuts up, most of whom vow to get Sixer killed while he and Bill are traveling together.

Because everything’s going according to plan, Stanley isn’t called to the Shack to hide the journals, but rather to protect the shack and journals while Ford is traveling. It’s a very confusing letter, and by the time Stan determines that it’s actually real, he barely gets there in time to watch his brother disappear through the portal before it autolocks and shuts down. He still starts up the Mystery Shack because he feels weird about the money Ford left him, unsure if it’s actually real, and needs a way of income. The twins still do come to visit for the summer, and Stanley still legally becomes Stanford as a cover story, but it’s not a car crash this time because Ford left behind an intricate plan for how to erase him without leaving any trace and Stan goes “well I’m wanted for a lot of crimes, I’ll just use this for myself.”

There is more Bill memorabilia around the house because Ford wants to be able to keep an eye on what Stan is doing, and Dipper does find the third Journal, hidden in the floorboards beneath his bed, and the pages on bill contain a detailed account of his powers as well as invisible ink containing the plans for Weirdmaggedon that Ford knows Bill has. This leads to Dipper fucking hyperventilating and trying to warn them all about Bill, which is very awkward when he comes back through the portal, lying contentedly in Ford’s fluffy hair.

TLDR: Ford realizes two can play the manipulation game and plays with Bill’s feelings for his own benefit, and Stan gets the shack because Ford goes through the portal to keep researching and writing his journals with an overpowered dream demon happily pressed under his heel

[fangirlingpuggle]

hey in the ford-thinks-dipper-and-mabel-are-his-kids-with-bill au how does weirdmageddon happen? cause no way ford ONLY asks dipper to stay cause he thinks they're both his kids. like does he get a reality check an realize hey,they're leaving at the end of the summer, panics cause if he thinks the twins parents are implanted memories to explain why bill put them here then *where are they going back to*, tells them both to stay and then mabel runs off because shes already freaking out about needing to grow up and visiting gravity falls for the summer is great but living there full time, effectively moving out of her parents house forever is just. WAY too much WAY too fast and WAY too grown up for her? or if you already had an idea cause you had that post about weirdmageddon and the bubbles id love to hear that!! like for reals it would be SICK to see what you came up with

Hi there, I really like that idea. I think things are more chaotic cause Ford wants Stan to give him house and life back but also wants his kids here and Stan still sees kids as his only family (And still thinks Ford is being crazy 'Sixer you can't keep these kids here they aren't your')

I think maybe the kids overhear that Ford thinks they're his and Bills kids or at least Mabel does and her confusion as she hears For justify everything about Dipper birthmark, the fact all the weirdness since the twins came here, that they find this stuff so easily even found the journal right away, the fact they had never met Stan before and they were sent across the country to stay with him all summer how they're 'parents' hadn't contact checked in on them ect.

Mabel... is super confused is Grunkle ford right? Id he there dad? Is Bill there are other dad? Are they human? What are they? Are their parents not their parents? Is that why they're fighting and getting divorced because they were never in love and together it was all an illusion? We're her 'parents' even married or together or just two people Bill used for this illusion/scheme.

She's scared to go back, scared to stay, scared about wheat happens next even more so then before as she doesn't even know whats real anymore. When Bill comes disguised as Blendin it's not endless Summer he's saying he can use rift to show exactly what happened what they are what's true.

Mabel's bubble is kinda similar but she doesn't know what happening outside she just thinks she dreaming just asleep just a lucid dream. (And Bill is slowly leaking powers into her) Dipper is with Ford and Bill lets him run off (After all he knows he'll play hero and go 'save' Mabel) Dipper goes in Wendy doesn't she's knocked out and then 2 bubbles, Dipper thinking he's saving Mabel.

Bill is manipulating Ford and totally agreeing 'Yep our kids' and is trying to get Ford to agree so one happy family.

The thing is the kids are getting powers in bubbles and are able to connect though mindscape, realize they're both trapped and bust out Mabel explaining what she heard and Dipper is shocked.

They find Grunkle Stan and the others and start explaining... Stan is facepalming 'Oh god damn it you kids believe that now to??' HOW AM I THE ONLY RATIONAL ONE IN THIS FAMILY?

[thegrimreaper-probably]

Feed me

Gravity Falls x monster reader (plant)

Headcanon/drabble

Ford originally found you when he first came to town

He was walking around the town, when he noticed you.

Bought you right away, I mean definitely isn’t a plant person but something told him he needed that plant

You “died” after a week of him trying everything to keep you alive. While he was distracted by Bill, he cut his hand.

To which you drunk and brightened up. (You now have a taste for his blood and will scream/play dead till he gives in and lets you have some from his hand)

When he writes in his journal he definitely mumbles, which you picked up, and rather fast you learned how to talk

Scared the shit out of him (Bill saw the whole thing and thought it was hilarious)

Your first words were “Feed me.”

Bill laughed, Ford was confused/amazed

FiddleFord is scared of you and refuses to be near you.

You have tried to eat him, to which Ford put you in a ‘time out’ (he moved your pot out of the sun, with you facing a corner)

Bill placed you back and now randomly teleports you near FiddleFord

Once the whole portal opening happened you were left with Stan

Which is when he fed you twice more to get you big, in his eyes a giant plant monster = money

Learned the hard way why you were on a strict diet (you ate a person and a small yappy white dog)

You’re moved from the mystery shack to the living room

Once Dipper and Mabel come around you are then placed in the shed, he was not risking you eating those two

You loved the shed, plenty of small rodents to eat

Once Bill is summoned again he takes you.

Why? He still butt hurt about sixer (it’s either one of those situations where the ex takes the pet or he secretly thinks of you as his and Ford’s kid. Custody battle)

Stan freaks out because he just goes to the shed to feed you and you’re gone.

Bill gets rid of your diet, you are strictly feed humans, henchmen, and time agents (only the finest)

When Ford comes back, finds out about you missing he beats Stan up again

Once weirdmageddon happens you are then placed next to the throne made out of golden humans

Bill does let you outside and eat humans once he’s done with his throne of people

Ford thinks Bill took you for some greater purpose bullshit

Once the twins win, Ford hits you with the shrink ray

You’re back to baby size :( but upside Ford has made a fake blood formula(it’s not good at all and you’ve gone back to just nipping at him for blood, did make a new formula till you liked it)

Mabel decorates your pot with stickers and made a sweater. Says ‘Oopsie daisy’

Dipper just talks to Ford about you since he doesn’t really want to trust a human eating plant

Soos gave you some beef jerky (you spit it back at him)

Waddles’ screams at you, and that goat outside has tried to eat you multiple times (not that you haven’t tried to eat the goat as well…totally)

There’s a part 2, 3 (actual story) if you want a headcanon there is a second one, just click the tags or go to profile

[duchess-doodles]

Uuh so some more on my take on human Bill. He basically highjacks Nick's body and uses some good ol ancient rune tattoos to make him into an immortal vessel only he can possess. Some more ✨lore✨ under the cut because I have waaaaay to many thoughts about this

So Nick is just some random guy who's passing through Gravity Falls, and he stops in the dusk 2 dawn for some chips or something

Ford happens to be there at the same time. He has the very normal, very insignificant thought of seeing some dude across the aisle in a convenience store and thinking "hm. cute guy" (which I might add is a thought he's barely conscious of. My guy has layers of representation to deal with but that's a different post) and moves on with his day

Bill on the other hand, the jealous fuck, reads this in Ford's brain and has the calm, collected and controlled reaction of ghosting ford for a few weeks to go fuck with this guy. For "fun." Definitely no reason other than that nope Bill doesn't care that Sixer spent 0.2 seconds looking at another guy whaaat no why would he care

Eventually Bill manages to get Nick to make a deal with him and gets his hands on Nick's body. Nick is obviously Not Ok with this so Bill rips out Nick's eye, using the body's pain to deter Nick from trying to get it back and because he's a crazy bitch like that and also because I want my Bill design to have one eye sue me

Then Bill does all the hair dying and piercing, and then uses spellbinding tattoos to secure his new flesh puppet :D now Nick's body can only be possessed by him (thereby keeping Nick out permanently so Bill can come and go as he pleases, without having to worry about fighting for the body's ownership every time he wants to use it) and doesn't need "looking after" the way a normal human body does (so he can leave it in a closet for weeks on end and it'll be fine)

Bill then rocks back up to the mystery shack and tells Ford he can manifest a human body sometimes. Just flat out lies to him. Like the liar he is <3

He stashes the body under the porch or something when he's not using it

I have more thoughts on this but I'll save it for another post lol

[pix-writes]

Thank you so much for answering my question! You always give very thorough and thoughtful answers 🥹🥹 If you don't mind me asking, can I ask the same question about friendships (possible lovers later, just like with Stanley) but with Ford? Thank you so much again, I really love reading your analysis 🥹🙌🏻✨️!!

Aw thank you! ☺️

(answer under cut)

I think I've gone over a little bit about how Ford would be in the beginning of a friendship/relationship in this post. Mainly talking about how his flaws/past wound would hinder him forming relationships, generally.

Though I did mention that I think Ford would be easy to bond with, in terms of connecting over something intellectual or nerdy. If you're someone who is game to tag along on research or adventures and can lend a hand figuratively/physically, then your friendship will start to grow, as quality time is the best way to get to know him (he may be a hero/adventurer, but he's truly an introvert with introvert hobbies). Shared interests are something that seems very important to Ford, having been starved of a lot of affection and deeper connections in the past, especially since he found making friends in school/college; so as long as you share a few passions, he'll open up to you fairly quickly.

However, it will take him more time to form a romantic connection and for him to act on it, it will be very slow burn because firstly, he simply doesn't move fast in a relationship, or at least not as fast as modern dating seems to be, and second of all because he has a little insecurity over whether you're interested in him or not/should be interested in him. It takes Ford a little bit to be convinced you won't get your head turned by someone more 'suitable' in his mind. This is also in part to the trauma from Bill's manipulation and torture, whilst you may have only connected after bill was erased, it still brings up trust issues in him and he needs to feel he could trust a partner - as well as work through anxiety about putting you in potential danger (will be quite protective over you as a partner as a result of this).

Kindness will go a long way in securing his opinion of you as someone trustworthy, not only to him but Ford seeing you be kind to his family, your other friends, even to strangers or just plain altruistic in actions not just in words, means that he can trust that he has evidence to back up what he thinks of you and not fall into a similar trap like he did with bill.

Also will admire you for any show of bravery or doing what is right (especially if it's in a situation where it's against the odds, whether it's something dire or a situation where it would be easy to give into social pressures). He appreciates when people say what they mean and are direct with him, as he'll be the same with them (I'm neurodivergent and I hc Ford is too, so this may be specific to being ND, as it's confusing when neurotypical people talk in circles to me!)

Friendship with Ford would include:

watching nerdy TV/films together, whilst I think Ford has only passingly known of/shown interest in world events even before the portal incident, he still managed to have some semblance of interests/life outside of his research, it may arguably not have been a lot, but considering his interest in dnd (including the intergalactic versions) and how he wanted to drop everything to play it with dipper in that one episode, he is definitely interested in catching up on all the nerdy TV/films he's missed out on, cue watching LOTR, star wars, star trek etc. However his gaps in world events comes up as well at the most random of times, he didn't really ask much on what he's missed out in world news (it's not relevant to his work or so he thinks), which can be both hilarious and sad, as as his friend you have to catch him up or remind him (e.g. 'no sixer, the soviet union doesn't exist any more, remember?' 'oh yeah, there was a war in Afghanistan... What do you mean how did it start?!')

playing board games/video games, like I said above Ford is a long time player of ttrpgs and so you will be persuaded into playing some version of a DND campaign if you're not already into it. Ford's excellent at teaching the mechanics and actually pretty good at roleplay and DMing, he can't do many voices but his storytelling is masterful (he is an author after all, even if he wasn't writing fiction and has lots of past practice from college). Dives straight into 5e, learns it quickly and creates his own homebrew version in no time at all! If you introduce him to the concept of dnd shows, he becomes a critter for sure! Essek and Percy are his favourite characters in Critical Role. Hums the theme song sometimes when he's working in the lab. Dipper gets him into Minecraft and you together construct a large home base and underground lab in the game. A lot of these games can take a long time, definitely have stayed up till 3 or 4 am on a campaign more than once.

research in the lab together or out in the field and debating with Ford about all sorts of topics, including your current research projects and both of your hypotheses. You might not have the same skill set as him but he values a different perspective from his own, you help balance out his hyperfocus. Is protective of you if something might be dangerous, will want him to be the one that gets hit/hurt if anyone has to, though both of you have had to patch up the other.

Getting into debates: Ford loves a mental challenge, he doesn;t realise its good for him (consciously/not until post-weirdmageddon) but having someone who isn't afraid to challenge him or speak their mind with him helps to keep him grounded and for him to really pause and think about his theories/morals. It doesn't have to be too deep though, perhaps you simply disagree on something, this will turn into a full debate, but despite some thinking you're arguing, its more of a passionate conversation, you're both having fun. Plus its even more fun when Ford ends up agreeing with you (its rare but it boosts your ego when it does happen)

related to the adventures a little: expect Ford to praise you/your efforts, (reminds me a bit like the 9th doctor or Sherlock) will just be doing something or figuring out a code or puzzle he'll exclaim "fascinating!" Or brilliant/fantastic/excellent/good, sometimes he's not aware he's saying these hushed phrases! Or he'll follow it up with questions, eyes lit up from being energised in his work, like "fascinating! How did you reach that conclusion?" 🤓

catching him up on technology, he finds it difficult compared to the high tech stuff from other universes but I like to hc he would get over it eventually, he's not the most adept in terms of keeping up with internet culture but is when it comes to tinkering with technology and experimenting/improving it. Still likes to call people instead of text and will have regular phone calls with you if you or him are away from each other.l, eases his worries about you (he's protective and still has nightmares from time to time so he likes to hear your voice so he knows you're ok).

Spending quieter moments together, even if its just stargazing on the stan o war whilst stan fishes, if you're close friends, I can imagine Ford would like hugs, holding hands and on the odd occaision napping cuddled up together (platonically) - the naps happened by accident at first, however its nice and your adventures are exhausting sometimes, so you now get the weighted blanket for you to both lie under for an hour or two (Mabel definitely has a picture of you asleep on her phone because its adorable).

Ford hasn't driven for 30 yrs (well not a regular old car anyway) so you've definitely had to drive him places/collect him before because his attempts at driving are almost as reckless as Stan is behind the wheel 😬 on a boat though? He's the most trustworthy captain 🫡 meticulous on the safety checks, will boss you and stan about a little on what to do, but you know it's for good reason... most of the time

[hightidesandoldmen]

Listen to me

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Mind control fetish, dom/sub dynamics, Bill gave Ford some weird kinks and the sooner Stan can make it work for them the sooner they can turn this Sailing Retirement into a Gargantuan Amounts Of Sex World Tour, Ford tries to dom but is a sub at heart, dubious consent, if its dubious consent on both sides is it still dub con or just a very weird moment for everyone?, hand jobs, blow jobs, though admittedly the smut at the end is purpousefully a bit of an afterthought.

Notes: I have always been curious about the concept of 'Dark Ford but Stan turns the tables on him' as a concept but i don't really see it in fic

--

Sixer had always been... a bit of a control freak. It wasn't a huge deal or anything back in the day because while Stan was rambunctious he DID know when his brother knew better and was willing to follow his brains and plans and all of that. He was perfectly content to simply punch in the direction that Stanford pointed him in.

In his more bitter moments on the road he hadn't wondered if Ford's actual anger at the science fair project thing was more for the fact that he hadn't been in control in the moment (and Stan hadn't been either but that was his own fault, Pa was right in that regard) or if Ford hadn't already been pulling away from him in the first place because He'd wanted to keep being in control of the situation-

and when his wants for 'the plan' had changed, the fact that Stan's hadn't had put him in a place where he couldn't control the situation as well. He didn't know. By that point maybe he didn't know his brother all that well at all anymore. (maybe he'd stopped knowing his brother well when he'd had to start looking away when Ford would change in their room because his throat would suddenly get dry and his heart would race, If it wouldn't have ruined everything between them Stan would have wondered if it would be a comfort to Ford to know his brother was much more of a freak than he'd ever be)

By the time he was being summoned to oregon he was well aware his brother was a different person now, it was fine, he was too. But it seemed Stanford's desire for control had never faded. It might have been the biggest screw up and mistake of Stanley's life- but if Ford was ever even the slightest bit willing to actually work WITH him it could have been avoided. It was still Stan's fault in the end though. his brother was a control freak, but that was fine- everyone had their flaws. But Ford was gentle he was always gentle.

this horror nightmare dimension on the other side of the portal- that was going to do horrible things to him and he was going to need him.

There was an odd vindictiveness to it- that for the first time, He had been in control and not Ford. He was the one that was doing something about all of this. Not his brother. If it wasn't because of his own failures, he would have called it oddly nice.

Then there came that summer, the twins, the portal working again, Bill....

and ultimately, Ford coming back.

And coming back even more of a control freak as ever. But it was okay now. They were okay now.

and Ford had smiled at him and the plan was the one Stanley had given up on but always secretly still wanted. And maybe Stan could live with being the person that just punched in the direction Ford pointed him in again.

Maybe it would be fun.

maybe being around the person Ford was now would mean that the hard thump in his chest would stop.

--

It was about two months out to sea when it happened. Stan had had a fling with a siren most recently, apparently they didn't actually mind control people, they just found out what you wanted and told you they had it until you'd go after them. He'd met a little blacksheep that wanted to talk about what SHE wanted, and Stan had been curious- but it turns out that angle was in and of itself a siren angle and he'd been dragged into the water.

Ford had been pissed beyond all beleif- he had of course warned Stan about it, freshwater sirens were mostly harmless apparently, and double apparently he'd even dated one himself in Gravity falls, but saltwater sirens were to a one maneaters. But Stan had dodged hypothermia and they sent a polaroid to the kids of him still picking kelp out of his hair to make it feel funny again.

But ford had had this weird twist to his mouth for the rest of the day, and Stan wasn't sure if it was really all THAT big of a deal because- well he'd punched out a few of the girls siren buddies, so they weren't THAT tough... but... Ford was still pretty pissed. So Stan- figured he'd better do something to make it up to his brother.

"Hey- come on Poindexter- I'm fine, and those sirens weren't nothing!" he swung an arm around Ford's shoulders and the pinch to his lip didn't fade, but his gaze did soften a touch.

and Stan figured he was PROBABLY in the clear...

"Life would just be easier if you just-... listened more Stanley..." He groaned, and Stan grinned.

"Sorry Poindexter, Im too stubborn for ya! Can't stop me unless ya tie me down!"

Ford went wierdly quiet at that.

like... WIERDLY quiet.

it should probably have been a red flag, but in that moment Stan just wondered if he was re-lancing the wound before it was ready so instead he joked again "And even then it's a 50/50 shot i'll just get back out!"

and thankfully Ford laughed again.

though Stan did feel eyes on him every so often for the rest of the day.

--

admittedly that should have been something his conman brain should have picked up on, but as it was he seemed to have blinders when it came to Ford, his brother was always surprising him.

So naturally he didn't suspect most anything at all when on a calm day still on the coast of Ireland, Ford mentioned wanting to stay 'home' rather than go to the pub in the village they were docked at.

And Stan figured he probably should hang with him as to make up for the whole 'scaring ford half to death for nearly becoming Siren chow' thing, so he stayed behind as well and while Ford was doing... whatever he was doing he'd update the sail logs. for all that it grated on Stan that they were going to have to be 'on the books' now and probably until after he croaked, if they managed to somehow end up lost at sea then the kids were SURE to recover their logs somehow and they should know if they went out figthing a kracken or running from antlantian guards or something.

"Hey Stanley-" Ford spoke up from where he was rummaging through his things, clearly looking for something. "Can you close the cabin door?"

"Huh-?" He was maybe ABOUT to complain about his knees but, eh whatever. he got up and his knees creaked ominously, but he lumbered the two steps over to the cabin door and shut it. "what's the deal, Ford? you find some contraband in there that could get us thrown out of Leprechaun territory before i can steal a pot of gold from these rubes?"

"No- I simply wanted to know if you would... like to experience something with me?" Ford pulled out a worn down looking bag full of... some irridescent shimmery looking shit-

"Did mabel send us a bag of glitter and you're about to throw it in my face?" he wondered treptidatiously, and Ford grinned, and... it looked wierdly sharp. Stan was more on guard than he perhaps should have been, (though in hindsight that possibly is what made things shake out the way they did so he was thankful for his paranoia in that moment)

"No- this is something i came across a few dimensions ago, it's a sort of pscychoactive substance that when burned releases a smoke that upon inhilation can cause a delightfully non-addicting sensation."

wait...

"Sixer are you asking me if i wanna get high with you?" ford's cheeks suddenly burned red and he coughed into his hand; and stan only took a moment to appreciate that that bashful look made his whole face soften.

"to put it crassly, i suppose, i simply have experienced such a thing before and i considered that you would appreciate such a state as well."

Then ford grinned a beseeching grin at him with that pink in his cheeks not faded yet and Stan was a weak weak man with a disgusting attraction that should not be. because he rolled his eyes and headed for his bed, because ford grinning at him like that was kind of all he needed to do whatever his twin (his TWIN he was such a sick freak that it hadn't even changed now after EVERYTHING) wanted him to.

Stan liked giving ford what he wanted- he was sure if he dug his heels in and said a firm no he'd be able to out-stubborn his brother, but he LIKED giving Ford what he wanted. So he leaned back against his pillows and threw his hands behind his head.

"Alright nerd, smoke away."

He tilted his head to watch Ford's hands fumble slightly with a box of matches that were already in his hand, and the wierd glimmery powder was already in a bowl-wow he really had already set the whole thing up before Stan had agreed, hadn't he?

that in hindsight should have been another red flag, but then the flame had gone down onto the shimmering powder- and he'd noticed that Ford had upturned the whole bag rather than portioning it out if they wanted to try this again-

but then the smoke hit the air.

it smelled... wierdly sweet- like burning Cherry wood or Apricot wood... and it WAS kind of a woodburning smell- in a weird way it sort of reminded him of the campfires they used to make when they were young.

the old neighborhood in glass shard beach had no space for a wood burning fireplace or anything, they had a squeaky radiator like everyone else who lived above their family's shop...

"Smells good-" he hummed. but when he glanced at Ford he noticed his brother seemed to already be feeling the effects, he was blinking rapidly and had lifted his hands up to cover his nose. he of course, laughed.

"You get a face full of it by lighting it off sixer?" rookie mistake, he had figured out several tricks to not get a full face of weed smoke back in the day himself, but it seemed Ford wasn't all that much of a recreational drugs person in his own portal based adventures if he made such a rookie mistake...

"No it- it smells odd..." Ford leaned back, and rather than settling onto his own bed he sat on the edge of Stan's. "oddly acrid."

"Really? smells fine to me." he gave another experimental sniff and sure enough yes, the smell of sweet woods and campfires and all of that... "What does it smell different for everyone or something? scifi nerd drugs change smell depending on the person?" he wondered, and, after a moment's pause, ford sighed.

"Yes i suppose so. It's... probably fine, as you said."

An rare concession from Ford, but a welcome one so Stan scooted to the side a bit and patted at the empty space on his bed. "come on- if you're gonna be right here when we both get high as balls on space weed then might as well get comfy."

and Ford, thankfully, listened to him and reclined next to him as they began to hotbox their cabin

For a while Stan was wondering if the damn drug would kick in yet, because he was just smelling some not unpleasent sweet woodburn smoke but he absolutely did not feel high. Not even in the way that waiting for an edible to kick in would...

though when he tilted his head to ask his brother if he'd gotten jacked by the space-dealer he'd gotten this shit from, Ford...had been effected.

His brother was turned almost entirely toward him, watching him closely, eyes dilated so far that there was only a barely visible ring of dark brown against black.

"You... doing okay Ford?" he wondered- "you want me to crack open a window?"

"No. it's fine." Ford answered, and then followed up with his own "How are you feeling?"

which- whatever. Stan Shrugged. "I mean- fine I guess. doesn't really feel like it's hitting much- you know?" Ford's brow furrowed, and he began to sit up, he looked weirdly perturbed. "What do you mean?" he wondered. and Stan, feeling weird about still reclining while Ford sat up, followed his lead and sat up himself.

"Well- i mean it smells nice, like one of those driftwood campfires we'd use to make on the beach when we were kids, but i don't feel any different. I've been high before, i know what it feels like- you know?"

"What's it supposed to feel like?" he brought up, and- for a moment Stanford looked... weirdly dodgy, looking away, pulling away from him- and okay- that wasn't a good sign. So he pulled out the boss voice. "Stanford, what's going on?"

And Ford was CONSIDERABLY higher than he was, because he folded immediately at the firm tone in his voice.

"You never listen to me. Stanley you NEVER listen to me. if you just LISTENED to me everything would be better! You almost died and everything ALWAYS goes bad when you dont just let me do the thinking im the smart one im the one that SHOULD be in control- and this is Going to - this is going to help us...!"

He pressed his hands to Stan's shoulders, and- fucking- what?

"Stanford are you trying to fucking mind control me? is this mind control shit?"

he felt his ire rising, and Ford-... maybe had thought he was trying to push him back down but he was stoned out of his gourd clearly because he just balled his fists into Stan's shirt and leaned forward a bit too much- honestly it almost looked like he was going to kiss him-

"Not- not really- well- maybe- kind of? It's... I didn't-" he looked back to the still smoking bowl. "It's... not working right."

Stan grit his teeth, and forced down his emotional reaction- he could get pissed when Ford was sober- or maybe wait to get the full explanation and then FORCE him to get lucid by throwing him into the cold irish bay.

"What was supposed to happen. What is this stuff-" he glared at Ford and his brother almost seemed to shrink under his ire. "Tell me. The truth."

Maybe the space drug was booby trapped or something because once he made it a full command, Ford's already hazy gaze seemed just... glaze over.

like all of his brain power was completely shut off but for what he needed to do to fulfil an order.

"I got it in a black market spaceport, i was considering using it for non-lethally neutralizing Bill for a time, it's a meathod of Gambling. the smoke creates a psychic link between those whom inhale it at the same time and the weakest willied will get their willpower siphoned into the stronger willed until the weaker willed could have their very reality rewritten with ease. You were supposed to be the weaker and i could use it to mean you'd stop fighting me on stupid things. And-" Ford's face twisted, in the most resistance in all of this that he seemed capable of as he was trying to bite something back from coming out of his mouth.

which was all well and good because stan slumped onto his knees and tried to keep from screaming.

Keep calm. His brother just tried to... drug and mentally enslave him- that was... it wasn't fine but clearly it didn't fucking WORK so he couldn't be TOO mad he just needed to parse out how mad he SHOULD be when Ford snapped out of this fugue state and went back to being a control freak that was so manic about being a control freak that hed try to mind control him-

"-And i could make you love me"

His eyes snapped open and he turned back to Ford, whom, if possible looked even drowsier than before, like resisting saying that had taken so much energy that he no longer had any more to fight off whatever this fucking psychic mind control drug shit was.

"....What? Ford of course i love you- you're my brother why do you think you needed to do that shit to me to love you?"

"Not like that." Ford's voice had dropped, into a drowsy monotone, like he was speaking in his sleep. "Not like a brother-"

and Stan's blood both froze over and lit aflame at once.

"....What?"

"was- was always jealous..." ford mumbled, and Stan had to press a hand to Ford's shoulder so he wouldn't topple over back onto the floor and he bonelessly flopped onto his bed. "didnt like to see you dating girls" his eyelids were fluttering now, the stupor this whole 'willpower draining' thing was putting him under was very much leaving him too tired to care about anything. like the concious mind had fully shut down and he wasn't really talking to Ford anymore so much as his subconcious.

so that was what he meant by 'the weaker could have their reality shaped'...

which was all the details he was focusing on so he didn't have to think about the fact that ford was implying- that he was saying...

that he felt the same way...

"Wanted you to kiss me instead..." he practically moaned out. And... Stan didn't know why, but he stood up, took the smoking bowl, and walked back to place it beside where ford's head had fallen.

And he didn't know why but he leaned in and started to murmur.

he had rolled with a lot of strange crowds over his ten years of homelessness, and he'd seen things. things that were used to help the women and men of the night that he'd rolled with in Chicago disassociate enough to be able to take clients they couldn't get it up for.

they wouldn't waste drugs in a city of actors. and actors meant things like hypnotists. And he wasn't really attractive enough to be easily selected unless he was someone's type, but the pimp he'd been rolling with for a bit had noticed he had a mean hook so he was sent in to watch the girls and twinks to make sure the people he paid for the time of never put anything nasty in their heads that might take away workers.

"Keep breathing, nice and deep- in.... and out... feel that smoke coming in... feel it clouding up that busy mind, feel it making everything go slower and slower, and how nice it is to feel it going slow. You're always thinking so much Stanford, about so many things, your mind is so exhausted. It feels so good to let your thoughts slow with every deep breath in. And every time you breathe out that smoke has stuck to more and more of your will and your thoughts and when you breathe out you can feel them drifting away, and coming into me-"

"And it's so so easy to just admit to things even if you didn't let yourself think about them much when you feel so smokey and good right now, Isn't that right? You can just say things you knew deep down but were too scared to say, because Your Stan's got you. And you know your Stanley can keep you safe, isn't that right?"

Ford took a deep breath, and sighed out a euphoric "yes...." and Stan figured he probably only had a limited amount of time till this will smoke stuff faded.

and...

well if Ford thought his willpower wasn't important enough to be respected- maybe it'd be justice to understand why.

"Why did you decide to use this instead of any other way to get Stan to listen to you? Why mind control?"

"I find mind control, brainwashing, hypnosis and other types of mental dominance extremely arousing."

Oh.

OH

Well fuck...

"....Is that something you always knew or did you learn it from someone?"

"Bill showed me how wonderful it can be, he was always in control and i wanted to be in control this time." of fucking course it was that damn triangle. why did everything seem to always come back to that damn triangle...

"Do you like being out of control?"

Ford shivered and Stan could see the tent starting to form in his pants. "Yes..."

Stan hummed. "Yeah i bet you would. it's probably so exhausting being the person thats always got the plans and calling the shots. i bet its REALLY nice to just get all dumb and misty and just do what people tell ya, huh?"

"Yes..."

"Say 'Yes Stanley'." he ordered and Ford gave another full body shiver, the tent in his pants growing significantly at the order

"Yes Stanley..."

"Good Boy. Every time you're a good boy and do as you're told you say 'Yes Stanley' Understand?"

"Yes Stanley."

"Good. Now... Tell me about this Will-powder" heh "does this last until its done burning?"

"No, the person whose will is drained remains in a suggestible state unless commanded awake. the psychic link doesnt go both ways, you lose your willpower to the winner and it stays theirs unless freely given back. And even then the psychic siphon remains. the winner can always take the loser's will away again whenever they please."

"Does it... hurt?"

"No... feels... so good...."

Stanford's cock was practically straining against his pants now, and Stan could feel his own stir in sympathy.

He looked away, thumb tapping against the bed as he thought about what to do-...

"Ford when you said you... didn't love me like a brother- what DO you love me like?" He- he knew technically ford had already answered but-that was in the past that was...

that was before everything...

"I want you. Want you to-... to want me... I know its... its wrong its... its taboo... I never wanted anyone else. Not Cathy Crenshaw, not Fiddleford, not Bill... not really... i only ever wanted you and... and it scared me... Even when i hated you i only wanted you back..."

well...

shit...

He spent a bit of time thinking it over. And when the smoke stopped, and he opened a window and Ford remained sprawled out on his bed, half asleep and cock straining for freedom against his pants, Stan figured Ford got generally good information...

About the drug at least...

Fords hips gave a little unconcious twitch upward and... Stan had mercy on him and took one of his heavy hands, dropping it over the bulge and watched with minor fascination as his brother's deft fingers rubbed against the restricted erection but lacked the dexterity to free himself-

At least, not without permission....

"Just keep rubbing there, Stanford" Ford moaned and his hips gave an instinctual twitch into his palming hand.

"Yes Stanley..." it came out as another heaving moan, and... damn...

He could see why Ford wanted this- this kind of control was heady... And ford LIKED control. He just... also liked being out of control. He really liked it.

And... Stan wasn't sure what to do about it-

"One more question- How do you bring will back and take it away?"

"You just tell them to think for themselves again to give it back, but to take away again you need-" Ford moaned. "You establish a trigger for them to remember at once that you possess their willpower"

establish a trigger huh? Like a codeword or something?

Or maybe...

Stan looked over at the drawer he kept some of his bedside things in and felt around until he found some thick glass. A Cologne he had stolen from a french store that was maybe the fanciest cologne he'd ever palmed from a shopping rack. it was one of those ones with the fancy sculpted glass and it even had a little squeeze bottle to spray it!

He had decided to save it only for hot dates and possibly getting to pick strangers up, so he'd yet to use it.

Until now.

"Well lets figure out a trigger for later right now, eh?" he tilted ford's head so he was properly facing upward. "Eyes open, Ford."

"Yes Stanley."

Glazed over, dilated wide, but still that same umber brown that matched his own, Ford's eyes so barely opened, staring into nothing and clearly lost in some wonderful reverie that only existed in his own mind.

Stan tilted his head back and sprayed himself with the cologne, rubbing it in a little to make sure it would get all nice and mixed with his natural body scent. "Sit up." "Yes Stanley." as if being raised up by a wire Ford sat up properly, though his eyes remained staring perpetually forward and focused on nothing. Stan took him by the back of his head, took a moment to appreciate the coarse curls in between his fingers, and pulled Stanford in to press his face up against Stan's neck. "Take a nice deep breath in. I know that smoke didn't smell all that good to you, so try this instead. that smell, of the cologne and me all at once? thats gonna be your trigger, alright? every time you smell this you're going to remember all at once that I've got your willpower. whenever you're awake you're gonna forget it, you're gonna think it's all... manmade stage stuff. Like those magicians that hypnotize the ladies in the dresses to pass the ring around them. you're gonna think you told me about how sexy you think people taking control of your mind was, and i'm providing this wierd but fun kink for you."

"When you're awake you know nothing that happens when you're like this is being done that you don't want to happen, but when you take a breathful of this, when you smell me and smell that cologne, you remember all that once that you gave your will to me. You remember that Stanley's the one that really calls the shots, even if you forget and you convince yourself that you're in control, you know deep down that he's got you on a hook..."

"And every time it'll feel just as good to know that as it does now." He grabbed Ford's hand and ground his palm against his crotch and Ford moaned out the next "Yes Stanley"

"You're such a good boy, Stanford..." he hummed, and let Ford breathe in the scent for a little longer.

But just a little longer because his own cock was getting to aching a bit from lack of attention.

he unbuttoned his jeans and his own dick let out a delightful throb when it was freed from restriction, and when he pulled ford's hand away, and his brother let out a faint whine, he chuckled.

But he thought he was maybe done with this whole thing... For all that this was an... interesting development, he didn't want a mindless thrall- he wanted ford.

"...When i wake you up, And i change your mind on something, or give you an order, you're going to have just a moment of feeling like this again, all nice and hazy and brainless, and will-less and it'll feel so so good, that even when it fades and you'll forget it happened, you'll feel so good agreeing with whatever i was saying or doing whatever i told you that you'll decide it was your idea to do it in the first place. Understand?"

"Yes Stanley."

"And every time you're a good boy and obey you'll say...?"

"Yes Stanley"

"Good Boy."

"Now- last instruction-" he properly undid ford's pants and watched his brother shake as his cock was freed from its constraints. it was turning fucking purple at the tip and some part of Stan wanted to feel the weight of it in his mouth...

Maybe later...

"When you wake up you'll be awake, but your brain will be so thoroughly consumed with lust that all that braniac Sixer thought won't come back until you cum until you can't cum any longer..."

"Like- you'll KNOW this is real, but it'll just feel like you were so lost in lust and the fact that you're living out hormonal dreams you had since your teen years is the only part that's really processing in your head."

"Understand?"

"Yes Stanley."

"Good Boy."

He ran a hand through Ford's hair, and watched him lean into him, peering at Stan with those big dilated eyes, trusting and open. Because he didn't really have any other choice.

Well- it was Ford's doing to make this whole thing happen- Stan could at least make it good for the both of them.

"Wake up now, Ford. Think for yourself again." Ford blinked once, then twice. his brow furrowed, and his pupils restricted, but the hazy look in his eye didn't fade-

and then both hands came up to press against stan's; Ford not just tilting his head into the grip but practically nuzzling into it.

"Stan..." there was a pained sort of strain in Ford's voice, an almost terrified desparation...

"Stanley i- please-" Ford leaned in, and Stan pulled away from him a bit,just to see what would happen- turned out what would happen was that that sci fi survivalist shit would kick in because Ford growled and threw himself forward, pushing stan back until he was straddling him.

"Dont you run away from me-" Ford growled, and-

okay yeah he was JUST starting to see the appeal of being in control he wasn't all too keen on getting rid of it now.

"Nah, you're going to let me take the reigns on this one, Poindexter." Stan began to get back up and sure enough Ford's conviction flickered near immediately-

and to be safe he added on- "You WANT me to call the shots on this one, Stanford."

and for a moment Ford's entire demeanor changed, his eyes hazing over entirely and staring into nothing as lids sank down to half mast and he robotically answered back-

"Yes Stanley" Before shaking it off quickly, and, as if he hadn't thought of anything else but for this to be the endgoal, ford went from straddling him, to throwing himself into stan's lap.

"Please-" he whimpered, bringing his hips as close as he could without actually touching Stan's cock with his own.

"Stan Please- i can't- i- i need- I need you..."

it was then that Stan took pity on his poor will-less brother. Stan chuckled and wrapped one hand around ford's sharp hip bone and pulled him as close as he could get, and with the other, he reached between them both and grabbed hold of their cocks, Ford's was leaking so much precum he didn't have to worry about lube.

"Good boy-" He cooed and Ford moaned, jerking his hips harshly into Stan's hand.

they were a couple of old men, they could probably only go a surprise round once, so when Ford moaned his name a few more times, and came so hard some of the drops splattered on the wall behind the both of them, Stan figured his brother would be tapping out quickly thereafter-

only for Ford to surprise him greatly when it was clear both that Stan was not spent himself, nor was he particularly sated.

a six fingered hand wrapping around his dick was one that only existed in his wildest horniest fantasies, but that face, both similar to his and so different, slowly going down- down- down, until that wet hotness of a mouth encoumpassed him, was so out of his imagination that he couldn't really believe it was happening.

Burying hands in that curly hair and thrusting into a willing, delighted mouth until cub dribbled out of his mouth was a fantasy that had never even been considered enough to be entertained. and yet there it was.

and by the time he was dragging ford up to give him the first proper kiss between them his brother was grinding a second erection onto his knee.

That one... he let ford stay like that. grinding against his knee like an animal, it let him watch his brother's face without splitting his attention anywhere.

the mad lustful joy on Ford's face defeated any leftover concern he might have had.

Ford's mind didn't clear until he came again, but by then he was so tired that when Stan tucked him into his bunk and whispered some instructions for tomorrow-

There had been nothing to do but hazily mumble out 'Yes Stanley' and let the feeling of being a good boy carry him into sleep.

and Stan...

Stan had some ideas.

After all, Ford had gotten himself and Stan into this, it was only fair that Stan make sure his brother got all the enjoyment he could possibly get out of it.

[alexxness]

Against Us - A Short Fiddauthor FanFic

Another one shot I've just posted on AO3!!

I don't think I've ever seen anyone writing or drawing comics about Fiddleford or Ford suffering from homophobia back in college, which I'm glad btw!! But they were living in the 70s back then, so I wrote this quick one-shot about them comforting each other because of homophobic people in college. (They are dating in this one-shot btw)

Btw, see if you can guess which song Fiddleford was actually listening to in the beginning ;]

Fiddleford was, once again, doing his homework, this time listening to “Pack Your Bags, Mack" on a cassette player he borrowed from Stanford.

He was alone in their room… He wondered where his roommate had gone since Sixer is usually the one arriving first. As soon as that thought came, Ford entered the room in a rush.

“Oh, hey Stanford. I thought you’d never arrive, is everything ok?” he says, while pausing the song.

“Oh yes, I’m fine, it’s nothing important.” the six-fingered responded, tossing his coat to his bed.

“You sure? You came in in a rush, were you… running from someone?--” Fiddleford concerningly wondered.

“I said I’m fine...”

“Okay… If you say so.” the Western boy responded, focusing on his homework once again.

Ford sighs. Fiddleford knew something was up, but Sixer didn’t want to bother his roommate with the same conversation over and over… Besides, just because Fiddleford is his boyfriend now, doesn’t mean he has to protect him all the time, Ford can defend himself.

“You know that guy in our, huh–” Stanford pauses.

Fiddleford turned his chair to listen to his partner.

“What guy?” he asked.

“That annoying guy from our chemistry class?” Sixer takes off his glasses to rub his eyes.

“Wait, wait… Are you talking about Roderick? Roderick Thompson?” Fiddleford assumes.

“Yeah, that guy,” Ford responds while wearing his glasses again.

“Oh gee, what happened?” the Western boy concerningly asked, as if it wasn’t the first time he had heard about this guy.

“The usual shit. I was just coming in a worry because I just COULDN’T. TAKE IT. Ugh, I wish I could just– Hit him, but I know I’m no better if I do so.” Ford looks at his fingers.

“Good that you have that common sense. But ‘ya know, some limits should be drawn sometimes, and I think Roderick has passed that limit for a long time.”

“What are you suggesting me to do?”

“I ain’t suggesting ‘ya anything. I mean, I go there and–”

“No, Fiddleford. I don’t need you to go there and defend me, I can do it myself.”

“I know, but– I don’t want ‘ya to go through this alone, besides… Roderick does kinda pick on me too.”

“What?”

“Yeah… I apologize I never told you.”

“Oh no, it’s ok. I completely understand you.” Ford paused “But… Hey, I know I ain’t no example, but you know you can tell me anything, right?” he seats next to Fiddleford.

“Yes, I know. And I appreciate that you are here for me, I’ll always be here for ‘ya too.” Fiddleford holds his partner’s hands.

“Of course.”

They silently looked at each other’s eyes, almost like they had a heart-shaped reflection inside.

“So like… What type of things did Roderick do to you…? If you don’t mind me asking.” Ford wondered.

“Well, the usual shit. Calls me a nerd, a weirdo, a freak…” Fiddleford paused, looking away “He called me ‘queer’ as an insult.”

“Oh.” the six-fingered has no words.

“Yeah. I just never told anyone about this, because I’m afraid my grandma may find out, and lemme tell ‘ya, she’s not kind to people like us, Stanford!” Fiddleford exclaimed with tears in his eyes.

“Oh, Fiddleford. I’m– I’m so sorry.” Ford softly hugged his partner.

“I love my grandma, but if she found out I’m with you, she’s– She’d go crazy.”

“I know. My parents ain’t no different, especially because of my religion.” Stanford responds while laying his head on Fiddleford’s shoulder.

Fiddleford sighs and lays on Ford’s head. “Why do our families have to be against us?”

“I don’t know. I’m sure in the future things will be greater for us though, but for now, I think we just have to live with this…”

[boredgirl2004]

Part 2 of Day 2: The book

As I said the words aloud, nothing had happened, I was relieved but also a bit angry. The nightmare that scared every loving ⬧︎♒︎♓︎⧫︎ out of me, that asked me to open this stupid book and to find that nothing came of it?!!! I was angry that my mind was playing tricks on me, so I took my hand off the page and reached the book cover so I could close it. 

“What a waste of time!! First, the stupid dream asks me to open the book. I finally give in and open it only for there to be a warning from a guy who I don’t even know and instructions to summon whatever this ring is only for it to not do any-” I was immediately cut off from my hand being sucked back to the bloody handprint, the handprint, and red words emitted a bloody bright red glow, I left my blood being sucked out of my fingertips, I the pages in the book turning, they were quickly changing, from a burnt bloody page to a much cleaner and whiter one, immediately words began to appear, in all caps said the word “HAHA” over and over and over on the two pages, I immediately grabbed one of my books I had bought from Barnes and noble, only to be in shock to see that it had the same font and same words as repeated in the book of the bill. It was like those computer glitches, where the code would just repeat itself over and over after the system was hacked. Everything in the room began to shake until it began to float. Finally, one page of the book had the triangle figure appear, it pressed itself onto the page until it burst through. As it did, everything in my room slowly began to be set down. It began to speak.

“Well, well, well! Here we are at last!!! I’ve been waiting an ETERNITY to meet you, and I know you’ve been waiting nearly as long to meet me!!” I stood there in shock that the book or thing or whatever this was was talking to me! This couldn’t be real, it can’t be and how could it be?!

“Breath it in a second pal-this moment of anticipation! You always suspected this day would come, and it finally has! Your life will forever be divided into two halves: before you met me and AFTER. Welcome to the after!” It continued as I looked at it and began to stutter, trying to find my words. I didn’t know what to say about this situation as a whole! I wasn’t sure how to react. This was all confusing and shocking. I knew Stanford, the man who warned me to not turn the page said to not believe a thing this book says but I didn’t know it would be this weird!!! 

The thing talked over me while my brain was crashing, trying to find something, some word to say about all of this. “You’re probably wondering, “Bill, you’re an all-powerful being. Why write a book, huh? Why let me read it? Also, aren’t you dead? Are you dead or what? What’s the deal?” I have no idea what you mean…”  the page had turned on its own to reveal a dark silhouette of the triangle being. Its eye is emitting a glitchy, yellow and red hue as its mouth opens to reveal its crooked teeth (Bill needs to see a dentist fr fr) 

“I’m….p e r f e c t l y…..f I n e”

Before I could finally speak and probably ask my question since from his tone, it seemed like whatever happened last time didn’t go so well. I was rudely interrupted yet again. 

“In fact, I'm better than fine, because might feel silo And there's a lot we can do together! Oh, you might feel silly about "meeting" me. After all, "Bill Cipher" is imaginary. You're real and I'm not, right?

BUT ARE YOU SO SURE ABOUT THAT?

After all, you're mortal. One day, you'll be dust. But I'm an idea. And an idea can't be killed. So that's me 1, you o on the immortality front! And if I'm the eternal one and you're the temporary one, THEN IT MIGHT BE WISE FOR YOU TO GET ON THE WINNING SIDE EARLY, YOU DIG?

I know that drama queen Sixer warned you not to read this book, didn't he? Maybe the old nerd is right! Weak minds have gone crazy from just ONE glimpse at my TANTALIZING FORBIDDEN SECRETS! (Sees the hickory-smoked crater where

McGucket's brain used to be!)

But if you're as sharp as I think you are ... and if you're curious about the meaning of life, how to cheat death, Pine Tree's most embarrassing dreams, and your own interesting future, then I'll consider making a deal with you. How about a trade? I'll let you read my book in exchange for a favor down the line. We can work out the details later. What do you say?

TAKE BILL'S DEAD

YES?

TURN THE PAGE

No?

TURN TO PAGE 77”

I hesitated to turn the page, I slowly began to think about my choice. There were many cons to this, from what the guy wrote in the previous pages, he expressed how much meeting bill would be a regret for those who continue with turning the pages in this book; I don’t even know what Bill could do to me from just turning the pages in this book. What if I’m walking into a trap? What if there is more to this than what he’s letting on? What if-

“Ah, look at you, all tangled up in your own thoughts. Overthinking is such a waste of time! You’re so close to getting everything you desire, but you’re letting doubt hold you back. Come on, what’s the point of hesitation? Life’s too short for that kind of nonsense. Just turn the page, and I promise you—things will get a lot more interesting. And if you keep dithering, well, I might just start making decisions for you. So, what’s it gonna be? Ready to embrace a little chaos and get what you really want?” I looked down at the page to see Bill was in a sitting position, his leg crossed over the other and his expression expressed how bored and impatient he was from me thinking my choices. I was worried about how he could be speaking to me like this when he’s in  a book, this isn’t possible it just- isn’t-

 “Your hesitation is almost charming, but it’s getting a bit tiresome, don’t you think? Besides, if you’re worried about the logistics of me being here, maybe you should focus more on the opportunities I’m offering instead of waddling over what’s right. Overthinking won’t get you anywhere, dollface. So, why not stop doubting and start acting? The more you dawdle, the more interesting things will get when you finally make a choice.” He said with a mixture of smugness and amusement as he stared at me from the page. I sigh and remember my task. Find a way to destroy the book from the inside out, focus on not believing what he says, even if it’s too good, I kept repeating the same sentence in my head over and over as my confidence began building itself up as I reached the page. Still, I pause as I look at Bill and begin to speak. 

“If you’re are this bill-person that this guy Stanford Pines warned me about, how can I trust you despite the warnings in the previous pages he wrote before? What is something you could say that’ll convince me that I shouldn’t just close this book and leave it in my room, never to be opened again?” I waited for the bill's response, which didn’t take long, and had no thought. 

"Oh, come on now! Sixer was always so serious, wasn’t he? Just a big bundle of paranoia and charts. But listen to me: I’m not here to cause trouble—well, not just trouble. I’m here to offer you a chance for a bit of fun, a touch of excitement, and maybe a sprinkle of chaos. What’s life without a little unpredictability, right? Close the book and you miss out on all the cosmic shenanigans I have in store. Open it, and you might just find yourself in a whirlwind of adventure. I’m all about making things interesting and trust me, you don’t want to miss what comes next. So, are you in, or are you going to play it safe and dull? Your choice!" He said in a calming tone. 

It wasn’t enough to convince me. I sighed and began to speak once more but this time I was faking my boredom. “Not convincing enough. Well Bill, it was nice meeting you even though it didn’t last very long but hey, this is my imagination just like you said right?” I say as I slowly begin to close the book. Bill responded with a slight stutter but he quickly covered it up with his nonchalance, “Oh, come on now, don't be so hasty! You’re not going to shut me out, are you? I mean, who knows what you might be missing? I wouldn’t want you to close the book before you've had the chance to experience everything I have to offer. After all, isn’t that the fun part of imagination—exploring the unknown? Give it a little more time. What’s a little more curiosity going to hurt?” I paused, the book was nearly closed but I  slowly opened it back up. There was nothing but silence from both of us for a while until I turned the page. Bill's attitude changed immediately. 

“Right choice, bone sack! Welcome to the Book of…” The page was now a biblical book cover of the Book Of Bill, Bill continued “No, no! That won’t do! Do you call that a cover? What is this, amateur hour? I can do better than that!” As Bill stared at the cover, I replied “Well, I don’t see you as a professional, Maybe try something more….You?” I said a bit awkwardly. Bill looked at me nodded in agreement and turned his back to me as he snapped his fingers, the next page had turned by itself, revealing four different covers. The first had a realistic appearance, it was in the middle of a farm, a storm right above it, and the clouds emitted lighting that took the shape of Bill. “Too basic!” He snapped his fingers again to reveal a book that reminded me of those horror books of goosebumps made for kids back in the 80s, I think they also made a show about it but that was years ago. “Too nostalgic.” He snapped once more to reveal a cover that I would see here, too many Bibles that had Jesus or god descending from heaven and floated above the person praying to one of them. “Too preachy.” He said out of boredom as he snapped again. I could hear a saxophone playing sexy music, it revealed a buff Bill Cipher holding a woman, they were in a field, their hairs blowing in the wind. I couldn’t help but burst out laughing at the cover. “Too ravishing!” I wiped my tears and tried to control my laughter. 

“You think?” I said as I laughed once more as I wheezed out that Bill doesn’t even have hair or a human-like body. It looked so wrong to me but that’s what made it funny. Finally, Bill settled on a cover, It reminded me of someone on their computer trying to make the title and using as little effort to make it until they settled with Bill being tapped to the cover, misscapitalized and misspelled words, a tab saying “Good job Bill” with some emojis and a menu from right-clicking the picture. “There we go! Perfect! The crowd LOVES it!” I smiled and looked at him. “I bet they love it. It shows the author more than ever!” I say jokingly even though it was like a kid was in charge of making this cover. I see a bloody fingerprint at the right bottom corner of the page that says “Put thumb here”. The fingerprint had veins on the side of it causing me to be a bit concerned. “With that all out of the way, all this book needs is some ink! Hey, can I borrow some of your blood? Just press your thumb here, and I’ll absorb some right into the page! You won’t even notice it's gone!” I hesitated until I gained confidence and gently pressed my thumb on the bottom corner of the page, I felt a sharp pain on my thumb as if my thumb was being pricked and the blood was slowly leaving it. I tried to pull it off only for more blood to be sucked out of it. I kept trying to remove my thumb from the page, it was stuck there after a few pulls but after the fourth time, the book at finally let my thumb go.

Note: Hiiii, sorry for taking so long. Busy with life but anyway! I wanted to have Bill be more interactive so I tried my best trying to imitate the character the best I could.

[imaredshirt]

When Stan and Ford were 11, a storm hit Glass Shard Beach with winds that were two miles too slow to classify as a hurricane. So it converged over the New Jersey shoreline as a furious tropical storm, turning the sky grey and pulling and pushing the ocean over the beach in high, crashing waves.

The state had strongly recommended evacuating to safety. It was such a fierce storm that the governor even briefly considered making it a mandatory thing. But only briefly. 

And because he didn’t, nobody in Glass Shard Beach left the little beach side town. Nobody wanted to. Or saw the need to. This was especially true for business owners, who scoffed at the thought of leaving their storefronts and tourist traps abandoned for any amount of time, even for a little bit of rain and wind. 

The Pines family was no different. They locked the front door of their store, boarded up all the windows, and hunkered down in the main bedroom to wait out the storm. 

Pops was asleep in bed, snoring loud enough to put the wind to shame, and Ma was next to him, reading through her Psychics National Weekly, snorting at all the news from the Hush, Much? New Gossip! column that she claimed she’d already seen with her psychic powers three days ago.

The twins had taken their favorite quilted blanket and draped it over the back of Ma’s armchair and one corner of the bed, creating a fort that made waiting out the storm a little more bearable. It didn’t do much to muffle the howling winds or the rain pelting the boarded windows or Pops snoring louder than his car could rumble, but there was something about forts that was always comforting to the 12-year-olds. 

They’d set Pops’ metal flashlight in the middle of the fort, shining a bright light up into the quilted canopy. Stan lay on his back and stretched one arm up to wiggle his fingers in the light and throw shadows against the triangular patches of red and orange fabric overhead, eyes wide as he listened to Ford read from his favorite collection of maritime fiction.

“Suddenly,” Ford read aloud, eyes glued to the open book in his lap. “The ship was launched out of the water! A massive tentacle curled around it, and the three sailors saw the monstrous head of the Kraken emerge from the waves! It peered at them with one bulbous, angry yellow eye. Lightning flashed as it opened its sharp, grisly beak to devour them whole.

“‘Oh no!’ Cried the Captain. ‘I’ve steered us right into the beast’s dastardly grip! I’ve doomed us all!’

“‘No,’ said his First Mate. ‘We are not doomed yet, Captain. We’ll get through this. We always do!’”

“Do they?” Stan asked before Ford could continue. He sat up and tried to peek at the book. “Do they make it out alive? Do they get eaten? What happens?”

“Hey!” Ford laughed and tilted the book so Stan could only see the front cover. “Let me finish reading and you’ll see if they live. Only,” he paused and flipped through the book. “Only 19 and a half more pages to go.”

“Aw, Sixer, come on,” Stan groaned. He flopped back onto the floor and threw an arm dramatically over his eyes. “Just tell me! What if the storm pulls me out through the window and throws me into space and you never see me again? Then I’ll never know the ending!”

“First of all,” Ford said, “That’s impossible. Second of all, we need to study these stories as closely as we can, even if they are fictional. It could help prepare us for our adventures across the sea! What if we run across a hungry Kraken, you know?”

“We’d kick its slimy butt,” Stan said. He balled his fists and aimed two uppercuts at an imaginary ocean behemoth. “No dumb octopus is gonna take the Stan o’ War down with us on board!”

“Yeah!” Ford cheered, then he bit his lip and continued in a more subdued voice. “Hey, Stanley?”

Stan stuck his tongue between his teeth as he aimed another bruising punch into the imaginary Kraken above him. “Yeah?”

“Would you be mad at me if I accidentally steered us into dangerous waters?”

Stan went quiet for a moment, flailing fists falling to his sides. He sat up and  watched his brother fiddle nervously with the corner of one page. Then, with a laugh, he elbowed Ford and said, “Are you kidding me? Dangerous water is where all the fun is! What’s the point of sailing if you’re just gonna stick to boring places? Pirates hide all the good stuff where the monsters hang out! Besides,” he added with a smile, “I trust you with my life, Sixer. Wherever you steer us has gotta be the right way.”

Ford smiled bashfully at the book. “Aw, you’re just saying that.”

“Nah, I’m serious! You’re the smartest kid I know, probably the smartest kid anybody knows. You’re gonna steer us towards all the coolest stuff out there using the stars and maps and math and whatever it is sailors use, I don’t even know! And me? I’m gonna protect us from everything.”

Ford flipped to the next page in the book. “Everything?”

“Yeah,” Stan said. “Everything! Giant squids and undead pirates and--and--and undead giant squid pirates!”

“Undead giant squid pirates?” Ford laughed and flopped onto the floor next to his brother. “That’s crazy! I gotta draw it.”

“Don’t forget to draw ‘em in giant pirate hats,” Stan said. “That’s how you know they’re pirates.  And draw some of their tentacles falling off! That’s how you know they’re undead.” “Noted,” Ford said, tapping his temple to signal that he was making a mental checklist for later. Then he nudged Stan with his elbow. “I trust you with my life, too.”

Stan nudged him back and laughed to hide his own bashfulness. “C’mon, tell me the rest of the story before the storm quits on us. Cause then it’s back to boring ol’ school. Yuck!”

With a grin, Ford held the book above their heads so they could both see the text and the intricate woodcut illustrations. He cleared his throat and began in the most dramatic voice an eleven year old could muster, “Before the Captain could respond, the ship tilted, and the three sailors fell towards the open maw of the Kraken!”

Stan listened in rapt fascination as Ford read on. Next to them, the flashlight threw their shadows against the blanket, making them seem larger than their eleven year old selves, as if they were old enough to set sail for adventure the very next day. 

But they were just kids, with many years ahead of them before they would ever be ready to take to the sea.

The storm raged outside. In their fort, the boys nearly forgot about it, lost in tales of daring adventurers and monsters lurking beneath the waves.

[On ao3]

[amydiddle-fanfiction]

10 Years More (Stanley’s Tale)

Stanley Pines is hitting his late 30s. He has lived a hard life on the road and only when he was in his darkest moment in '82 did he finally turn to family to help. Now, after a few years of living with his older brother, he is mostly on his feet. There are still days where he sleeps in his car but he at least knows he can make an honest living and turn to some people when in a terrible bind.

Still the world does change in terrible ways and now Stan finds himself packing up once again to drive towards a person he is sure never wants to see him again just because his mother asked him to. The last time anyone even heard from him was that same year Stan dialed up Sherman's number, who said that the man just decided to fully cut himself off from family forever?

What kind of town was Gravity Falls anyways? Whose to say Stanford even needed help?

Ao3 (THE FIC THAT MAY NEVER BE COMPLETED IS BEING WRITTEN AGAIN)

Chapter 1

Gravity Falls, Oregon. A small sleepy town in the middle of nowhere. The town was surrounded by mountains and probably was one of those back-water places that did not accept outsiders easily. A perfect place to go to lay low if someone was on the run from certain people or go searching for someone that had dropped off the map almost ten years ago.

A red car sped down the lonesome stretch of road in the dark of night. The dim glow of the headlights were the only things making a dent in the shadows the trees and mountains were sending across the road. The driver hummed to himself to fill the silence the night held.

The phone conversation he had had a month ago was still playing in his head and he was trying to drown it out.

“Stanley, it is so good to hear from you.”

“Great to hear from you too, Ma. Sorry it has been a while, got caught up in stuff…had to move a lot. What is going on with you?”

Silence.

Stanley reached for the radio dial to try and drown out the memory of the conversation. Each spin of the dial only came back with static this far out in the mountain range. He would have put a tape in but the thing had been busted for years now; he regretted not spending the time to fix it when he had the chance. He was left with the only other option: humming. It wasn’t working.

“Ma?”

“Stan…I’m worried about your brother.”

“Shermie? I just talked to him a month ago. He seemed pretty unhappy that Sheryl is headed off the college now. Told him he should have been used to it after Jacob flew the coop but I guess it is different when both kids go off. That ain’t really something to worry about, Ma-

“No. No, Stanley, I’m… I’m not talking about him… I’m talking... I’m talking about Stanford.”

Silence.

Stan’s eyes landed on the road sign that told him that the exit to Gravity Falls was just twenty miles away. With the lack of people on the road he did not care to be cautious. The man pressed down on the gas to speed up his car and get there faster. Anxiety pushing in around him as the memory filtered through his mind.

“He hasn’t called in years and the post office said they stopped delivering my letters.”

“Maybe he just dropped off the face of the Earth, Ma. He was never good at calling you.”

“I don’t think it is that. I just have that feeling he is in danger; I’ve had this feeling for a while.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“I just…I know you don’t want to talk to him but can you just go up and check on him? Please, Stanley, just to make sure he is okay.”

The welcoming sign of the hidden town of Gravity Falls came into view as the radio finally picked up a signal. Some late-night show began to play music and chased away the memory as he turned off the highway.

“This better be something bad, Sixer,” he grumbled as he turned the wheel, “I didn’t come all this way for nothing.”

Even as he said those words the idea of his twin brother being in some sort of danger made his stomach squirm. The gut feeling only worsened as he drove closer to the allusive town; it almost seemed the woods that surrounded the road was watching. As if they had expected his arrival and were eagerly waiting to gobble him up.

Stan slowed his car down when he spotted a street sign that was almost completely covered by the wild woods. Tree branches and brush hid the white paint in shadows. The man had to squint just to read the name of the street: Gopher Road.

Road was being generous. It was more of an over grown dirt path that had allowed the trees to slowly consume it. And it was sadly his destination.

He thought it would have been harder to find but here it was. The exit to the town had led him straight to the road he was looking for. A dirt road that led right into the creepy woods that he wanted to avoid because they looked ready to eat him alive.

“You just had to live in the creepy forest, didn’t ya?” Stanley groused as he turned the car onto the dark street.

Gopher Road was a long, winding expanse that traveled far into the darkness of the forest. The whole pathway was bumpy and full of holes from rainfall washing away the loose soil. Vines, weeds, and grass had cemented the some of the uneven street to the ground but not enough to make it an easy ride in.

Stanley wished he felt some relief when he finally reached the end of the road where a cabin sat in complete shadow, but all he felt was a foreboding sense of a doom. His headlights chased the darkness away as he pulled up next to a rusting truck that seemed to have been parked in the clearing for years. Vines and grasses were growing around the tires; a branch from a tree had fallen and dented the pine straw covered roof of the vehicle. Stan doubted it would even run even if he hot wired the thing.

The house lit up by his headlights was in no better shape. The step up to the front porch was covered in moss and the front door hung off its hinges as if it was forced open. Even with the light shining right at it, a darkness seemed to envelop the inside of the house.  

All over it read that this place had been long abandoned.

Stanley pushed his car into park and sat there staring at the scene before him. The gut feeling of something terrible happening only seemed to grow the longer he stared at the dark house. He was very tempted to turn around, find a motel, and come back to search in the morning. But he needed answers.

His mother said this was Stanford’s last known address and, by whoever may be up there, Stanley Pines would find out what happened to his brother.

Hesitantly, he turned the keys and the rumble of the engine died. He turned in his seat to ruffle through his duffle bag that sat across the back seats, pulling out a flash light. He flicked the device on and off to make sure it had enough juice.

With shaking hands, he turned the headlights off and stepped out into the night.

A breeze blew as he closed the car door and made him shiver despite it being a warm wind. The cloud above moved so the moon was no longer obscured and cast the clearing with the house in an eerie glow. Despite it being a warm summer night, Stan felt chilled to the bone as he moved towards the house. His muscles tight at the terrible feeling of being watched as he carefully stepped onto the rotting wood of the front porch.

The wood of the porch groaned under his weight; it had not needed to support a human presence in quite some time. With a flick, the flashlight was turned on. He could see spots of mold growing over the wooden beams and did his best to avoid those places as he moved toward the front door. Last thing he needed was to fall in a hole on the front porch.

He tried to be careful as he moved the door open slowly, but his movement seemed to do it for broken, unused door and it fell with a clatter. The man jumped at the sound and sent a paranoid glance back at the forest before he let the light of the flashlight illuminate the abandoned hallway of his brother’s home.

Mud, dirt, and leaves had made their home inside the house over the time the house had been left alone. Who knew how long the door had hung down in such a sorry state. Stan would not be surprised if animals had used this place as shelter during bad storms or squatters had found this place as a safe-haven over the years. It certainly would be a place he would have chosen during his life on the road.

The trail of debris led into the kitchen which was in complete disarray. The idea of squatters and animals making this place their home did not seem too far off anymore as he flashed the light around the room. The dead fridge was open and empty, pots and pans were all over the ground, a few mugs were broken and another seemed to be full of old coffee, and the food that had been in the pantry was either gone or scattered over the floor in various states of decay.

“Nice of them to clean up after themselves,” Stanley muttered under his breath as he left the kitchen doorway to explore the rest of the house.

The living area was in a better shape than he thought it would be. The television was still in front of the couch, which was surprising considering one could get a decent money for a T.V. set. Dirt covered the floor just like the rest of the house and a dried-out fish tank stood against a wall. The couch was worn out but not destroyed by animals like he expected, but there was a winter coat draped over the back of it. Stan picked it up with curiosity.

It did not look like a squatter’s coat. It had the air of being new when it was worn to this location and seemed to have only been worn a few times. He would have guessed it was his brother’s if it hadn’t been a few sized smaller than he could fit into. The dust and grime over it seemed to indicate it had been there for a while, maybe as long as this house had been abandoned.

Stan dropped the coat back onto the couch. Possibly a friend of Ford’s? Maybe they were still around this town and could help him figure out what happened.

He next entered a large room that had different things scattered about. A dinosaur skull, weird machines, and chemicals in bottles. He moved to pick up a bottle with an eyeball in it when his light hit something that did not match the wooden aesthetic of the cabin. A door, slightly ajar, made of metal. Something about it drew him like a moth to a flame; like all the answers he needed would be answered if he just walked towards this door.

With a push, the door creaked open on rusted hinges and cold, musty air flooded out. Stan took an involuntary step back and clutched his flashlight tighter as he let the light hit every corner of the new area he had found.

The faint light of the beam hit the steep stairs leading down into the unknown darkness, the cobwebs handing from the ceiling, and a six-fingered hand print that seemed to forever mark the wall. If there was any place, he would find the answers to what had happened to his brother it would probably be down these stairs.

Stanley took a breath and rolled his shoulders. Whatever had happened to his brother could very well be hidden down at the bottom of these stairs. As much as everything was pushing him to turn around and leave, he took a step forward so he stood right on the precipice.

“Creepy woods, creepy house and now a creepy stair case,” he whispered, “Ya’ know, Sixer. When I said that you should be in danger, I was hoping I would drive up here and find you happy and angry to see me.”

He got no answer but silence and a flicker from his flashlight. With another breath to gain some courage the man took his first step into the unknown. The journey down the stair case was slow. He made sure to shine a light on every step so not to trip or step on a rat if any had made their home down there. When he got to the bottom he found his next obstacle: an elevator.

“What the Hell?” he said to himself. He shone the light around the contraption, “Why do you need an elevator in a basement?”

Stan took a closer look at the machinery and hesitantly touched the button that called the car. To his surprise the old metal working started to hum and the inner workings started to pull the old car up. Stan’s only conclusion on how it still had power was that it had to be working with its own power source; probably a generator. He stored that thought for later; the mysterious power source may come in handy later.

He stepped into the elevator when the car reached him and grimaced when he heard the metal groan under the weight. The lack of use and sitting forever in some unknown location under him probably made the metal weak. Stanley took a breath as he pressed the first button he saw, taking him to the third level of the basement. He hoped the machine would have enough strength to bring him down and back up. 

The further down the elevator went the more nervous Stan became at what he might find.

This was so much more than he had thought it was going to be. A basement with layers that were probably unknown to the builders, a house hidden away in the woods, and his brother just gone without any show that he had moved. When his mother asked him to come here, Stan had thought he would just find his brother rich in success and in his own world that did not involve any of them. Now, he was scared he was descending towards his brother’s grave. 

Stanley’s breath was taken away as he arrived at his destination and saw the room. The room was the definition of every sci-fi-horror nerd’s dream. The machines were covered in dirt and dust from lack of use, papers were scattered across the ground, and a few lights blinked on and off so it gave the space an eerie glow. He could almost think he had stepped onto a movie set or this was all some kind of trippy dream.

His eyes were drawn away drawn away from the machines when he caught sight of something at the end of the room through a pane of protective glass. A giant triangle made of metal; a machine of some kind that looked like it had come from another world.

His feet walked towards it without him directing them to. Stan did not even glance at the warning signs around the door as he stepped into that machine’s room. The closer he got the larger it became; whatever this device was it certainly had a hold on him. It made him feel scared yet, at the same time, he was filled with wonder. What stopped Stanley’s journey towards it was something crunching under his dirty boots.

Stan stepped back at the noise and broke his gaze from the machine to look at the ground to see what he had stepped on. On the ground lay a cracked pair of round glasses; mangled from the foot that had just crushed them. Just a few steps away were another pair of glasses that matched the style he had last seen his brother wearing. He picked them both up and grimaced when the cracked glass of the spectacles fell to the ground.

Stan stared into the faint reflection of the glass and then looked back up at the portal. If this was all that remained of his brother then what had happened? Had this machine been the cause of his twin’s destruction? He wanted to ask these questions but the only thing that came out was:

“What did you do, Sixer?”

The biggest unanswered question out of all the ones swimming around in his mind. Stan’s simple journey to check on his brother had turned into something huge and beyond his imagination. It was giving more questions than answering them. He was left confused and daunted by everything around him.

Stanley pocketed both the glasses in his worn-out jacket and left the machine’s room to enter the lab again. He looked over the dirty machines before he spotted something that should have been his first thing to discover upon entering this room. A journal sat on a dust covered desk; the gold hand print was on the cover and shone bright under the light of Stan’s flashlight.

He set down the light and picked up the book gently. Without the glaring light of the flashlight, he could easily see a number three written in the middle of the gold. Stan looked at looked at the attached monocle with mild interest before he opened the book. The name on the inside of the cover was all he needed before he dove into the story of what Stanford had been up the years before he disappeared.

[askthestans]

Hey, eh, not sure if you're aware, but there are plenty of Mabel haters who like to blame her for causing Weirdmagaddeon and claiming she doesn't take any responsibility for it. What do you say to those accusations against your grandniece?

Stanley: I, uh... what? Excuse me? People hatin' on Mabel? Is that even a thing? Has the internet seen how much of a rainbow ray of sunshine that gal is? I'm a grumpy old conman, Ford's an egotistical, nerdy old fart, Dipper's a paranoid, insecure dweeb, and... people love us and hate Mabel? Why do they look past our flaws and not hers? Not that she has many, mind you. What, she's a little hyper sometimes and wanted her brother to stay? She's just excited about life and loves her family! How can you fault that?

And Mabel causin' Weirdmageddon? What kind of S&P approved substances have these folks been smokin'? *He turns to the side and calls up the stairs.*

Ford! Get your ass down here! I need you to help me argue with people! *Footsteps thunder down the stairs and Ford comes rushing in.*

Stanford: What is it about? And how many explosions do I need to get my point across? *He starts to dig through his trench coat.*

Stanley: Ford, no. Not again. We don't need to make any more insurance claims today.

Stanford: *His hand freezes in his coat, but he doesn't fully let go of whatever's inside. His expression is stern and serious, like a child defying their parent after being told to get their hand out of the cookie jar.* Stanley: Ford!

Stanford: *Rolls his eyes and sighs, letting his hand fall out of his coat again.* Fine, fine, have it your way. I'll just have to utterly and completely decimate them using my brain. Honestly, the plasma grenades would have been the more humane option. Anyways, what are we arguing about?

Stanley: *Points to the question.*

Stanford: *Leans forward, adjusts glasses, and squints, one brow raising more as he reads. Then he pauses, a furious glare to his brown eyes, and then... he bursts out laughing.*

Stanley: *Also laughing.* I know, I know, right? Okay, internet fans, let's get this straight: we all played a part in Weirdmageddon, I'll be honest. Ford started it all by lettin' Bill wine and dine 'im because of his ego problems.

Stanford: Stan is right. I was a fool to trust Bill. He took advantage of my endless need for validation. And then because of my fight with Stan over stupid unresolved issues, Stan was bitter about saving me during Weirdmageddon and then... I corrected his grammar at the worst moment possible.

Stanley: And then I tackled Sixer here. Also at the worst moment possible.

*More footsteps can be heard coming down the stairs. Stan and Ford turn to see that Dipper and Mabel peeking around the doorway.*

Stanford: Hey, kids. Stan and I were just talking about-

Dipper: Weirdmageddon? *Dipper hangs his head a bit and sighs.* Yeah, we heard. That was all our faults. But-

Mabel: *She smiles.* We all also played a part in fixing it! Wait... *She walks up to the computer and sees the question. Stan and Ford try to hide it quick, but she manages to peek through their arms.* People on the internet think I was the main reason for Weirdmageddon?

But... that's not true... right?

Stanford: *Slowly reaching into his trench coat for the grenades again upon seeing Mabel crying, with the look of someone about to unleash hell.*

Stanley: *Nods seriously to Ford, finally agreeing that maybe the grenades are a good idea as he starts to pull brass knuckles and an insurance business card out of his own pockets, then turns to Mabel with a warm smile, hiding the brass knuckles behind his back.* Pumpkin, of course it's not true! Hey, hey, don't listen to those idiots on the internet that this asker mentioned. Like you and Dips said, we're all at fault for Weirdmageddon, me and Ford the most! We're adults and we screwed up harder than anyone involved. You're just kids. We're nearly 60 and couldn't get along. You were 12 and showed us what we'd forgotten.

Dipper: But seriously... like... *Dipper glances at the screen for a moment, staring directly at the internet with cold, intense, dark-circled eyes, fueled by many sleepless nights of tinfoil hattery.* Wasn't the point of all that to show that family is important, how to trust again after it's been broken, and the value of mending relationships despite past hurts? That what really matters in the end is forgiveness and giving up ego for the sake of love? That people in broken family relationships can both be at fault and flawed?

Stanley: Never mind the whole 'bein' stubborn and unforgiving and unable to admit faults' caused me and Ford decades of suffering that could have been resolved had we just sucked it up and forgiven each other? *Stan glares at the screen.* That Mabel and Dipper avoided because they followed me and Ford's example of what not to let happen?

Stanford: *Also looking at the computer screen now, as if staring directly at the internet, breaking some kind of numbered wall.* Have any of you ever heard of character arcs? The rift metaphor? Was the whole two sets of twins thing not obvious enough parallelism and juxtaposition for you? Was Stan defeating Bill with the power of love for family not enough of a, shall we say, punch to the face of some major symbolism we let you watch the worst moments of our lives for?

Dipper: *Narrowing his eyes further.* I bet they don't even know what a theme is...

*Mabel still is sniffling in the background.*

Stanley: Mabel, sweetie, why don't you go upstairs for a few minutes? Me and Ford and Dips here will finish this ask. Get yourself a cookie and we'll handle this.

*Mabel leaves, still sniffling.*

*Stan turns to the computer with his brass knuckles. Ford adjusts his glasses and pulls out grenades. Dipper pulls out a hefty book from his vest.*

Stanley: Internet, listen here and listen good! You've got ten seconds to apologize to Mabel, or you're gonna get the Pines family special.

Stanford: *Says nothing, but casts an unhinged smile.*

Dipper: *Raises book above his head.* Grr....

[pinesfamilyguidetotheweird]

Ford and Trauma™ Part 6 (The Weight of Guilt)

Here is Part 6 of Ford and Trauma™!

Last time, I brought up how even what  can be perceived as the littlest of things can cause a bigger impact later in life. I’m sure there is a fair number of us still recovering from bullying.

For this part, we’ll be tackling something that had no doubt eaten at Ford’s psyche every now and again.

The feelings of guilt over his mistakes.

Mistakes are normal. It’s a part of life. Just some…make worse mistakes than others.

So, this was lightly tackled in Paaart…3, I believe? Harboring some flavor of survivor’s guilt during his travels.

There is more to it and it probably started not long after he learned of Bill’s true intentions. Once the realization set in, Ford placed blame onto himself for everything that led up to this.

The first was probably his treatment towards his friend, Fiddleford. Afterall, Ford needed help on rebuilding the portal and Fidds had the means. Ford had Fidds come all the way to Gravity Falls, leaving his wife and young son back at home, under the promise that he will return in a few months.

He never did, losing his mind. And while it was Fidds' choice to use the memory gun to erase his own memories, Ford was the one who drove him to it. Ford had robbed a brilliant man of his mind and family, a wife of her husband, and a child of his father.

This is all your fault, Sixer…

Furthermore, were there other victims of Ford's mistakes?

It is confirmed that to an outsider, the person that Bill is possessing can sound like the person. (To others, Bipper just sounded like Dipper and since we weren’t seeing from Blandin’s point of view, we just heard his voice rather than Bill’s)

The only sign of Bill possessing someone are the eyes. Yellow eyes with slitted pupils.

Had people lost their eyes because of Bill?

This is all your fault, Sixer…

Sure, the reaction could be just a product of Ford’s sleep deprivation, him hallucinating eyeless and bloody sockets on the faces of strangers, but what he is feeling is very real.

To him, people are suffering so Bill could get to him.

Let’s fast forward to when Bill has Ford in his clutches in the Fearamid.

I have very little doubt that while Bill administered physical torture, he also implemented mental torture and just because Bill couldn’t enter Ford’s mind, using his words could still yield a similar effect. Pretty much weaponizing victim-blaming.

This is all your fault, Sixer…

Now, post-Weirdmaggedon.

Stan had to lose his memories to save everyone from Ford’s mistakes, which only added to his feelings of guilt, especially when he remembers his treatment towards his brother since returning to his home dimension.

How could he have treated his brother so horribly after everything he has done for him?

How could he have let their father kick Stan out over a stupid science project?

And then comes his rash proposal towards Dipper, asking him to stay and become Ford’s apprentice. Sure, it was Dipper’s choice to accept it, but the fact remains…and it inadvertently caused Bill to finally get his hands on the rift and set a course for the end times.

Plus, Ford had learned about Bill possessing Dipper during Sock Opera.

His young niece and nephew had to suffer because of Ford’s actions.

Sure, things have gotten better, now that Bill was gone and Stan got his memories back. But, thoughts remain. Emotions remain.

This is all your fault, Sixer…It’s because of you that Bill was able to get here…It’s because of you that all these people got hurt…It’s because of you that the world nearly ended...

You brought Bill here...You broke Fiddleford...You killed people...

You hurt Stan…you hurt Dipper…you hurt Mabel…

You have no one to blame…but you.

You deserve it...

Those...never go away.

[acroagoraphobe]

What Makes a Man a Monster

Chapter 6: The Man Who Came Up With A New Concept Of Death.

Hiii yeah just felt like writing a chapter today! (Because I just edited a fandom wiki article about me and Im in a writing mood.)

ANYWAYS.

Violence iminent, be warned.

ALSO I MIGHT NOT DO THE COLORED TEXT FOR A FEW CHAPTERS BECAUSE IT'S ANNOYING TO HAVE TO DO AND I WANNA MAKE CHAPTERS QUICKER :3 (Also ill be able to make longer chapters without them takjng so long to add colors and text effects in :)

The ominous sounds of the deser wafted into to the ears of all who could hear. Distant screams and gunshots being heard from a road far away from the town of Novac. Sixer's next destination.. Hopefully.

But now, he was too busy making those distant screams of pain. And they werent his.

He had already grabbed his arm and reatached it, It stuck back on like a magnet and became good as new. The gore of his arm being blown to bits all forgotten already.

The few remaining raiders met their demises at the bullet from a classic. A 10mm pistol covered in blood, dirt, and wasteland.

Bodies fell to the ground, pooling red liqud around them before it soon seeped into the dusty soil beneath. Sixer's Luck always had a habit of somehow going his way.. either that.. or.

He was so unfortunate that it looped back around to the luck of a rabbit's foot strapped to your belt loop.

After the raiders had all dropped, like the scavenger Sixer was... he got looting. He found a fistfil of caps and some chems. Snatching it all up along with the ammo from the dead attacker's weapons, dropping each individual bullet into a pocket in his bag, clinking together as he closed the pocket and shifted his bag.

One of the raiders also had a bottle of shitty booze. Fuckin hell it'll work I guess. Sixer took a swig, not giving a fuck about whos mouth had been on it before. I mean hell can't get worse than the Bubonic Plague, and he's had that before.

Which is a long story for another time that crosses too many history books to list it all. History books that are probably obliterated and gone by now except for in those vaults.

After he pilfered the remains, Sixed went back to his usual activities on the road, Which consisted of walking. And Walking. And looking at a cactus over there. And avoiding talking to those traiders.

Then seeing a group of NCR soldiers get attacked by a bunch of men in skirts and football gear, making them look like absolute losers. I mean what man wears a damn skirt. WEAR PANTS FOR FUCKS SAKE.

Of course not bashing on other men who wear skirts, Just legion dipshits.

Sixer just walked past, trying his best to not get involved. And he didn't, because he couldn't give two shits what the skirt boys and bear bitches were fighting over today.

Soon enough he reached the town of Novac, covered in blood and his clothes destroyed to high hell. With only drugs, 10 caps, and a bottle of alcohol to his name. Oh and this gun too I guess.

He Stumbled his way into Novac and up a set of stairs into this giant-ass dinosaur, when inside, slapping his few caps and his chems down on the counter.

[I need Shit to fix my clothes.]

"Well, I might have something lyin around.. A sewing kit and some fabric? Get all sorts of stuff in here ."

The man at the counter flinched slightly when the items were slapped onto the couner, not expected Sixer to come in so suddenly and aggresively.

[This better be good enough, Dinosaur fanboy, cause it's all I got.]

"I guess it'll have to do, ya look like yeh've been through hell n' back there-"

[Long story, Wouldn't believe me.]

"All right, let me grab some things for you."

The man who's name wasn't exactly important because lets face it, he's not plot relevant other than this, came back with a needle and thread along with scrap fabric.

Placing it down on the counter and pocketing the caps and chems that Sixer had placed on the counter.

Sixer soon stormed out and found a nice rock to sit on, taking off his shirt and stitching up the massive hole in it with the fabric that was only a slightly different color from his white Tank top.

It was more of a grey-beige fabric, and it barely hid most of the bloodstains and holes. But whatever, It worked. Stupid shitty clothes getting fucked up all the time. Fuckin covered in dirt and crap.

Sixer soon after worked to stitch his pants, an entire pant leg had been blown off and it kinda sucked having to make a whole ass new pant leg. Although Sixer definitely had the tailoring skills needed, since he's been fixing his own clothes since WAY before sewing machines were invented or even thought of.

Sixer finally finished fixing his clothes up after the whole ordeal and simply sat on that rock, thinking about what to do next.