#the top right ford is just......off to me

[the-universal-sun]

If it's okay: Present day Ford crying his heart out? 👉👈

He went through so much, he deserves to be small and taken care of

Of course it���s okay! And I agree, Ford needs to be cuddles and coddled after all he’s been through!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ford startles as a loud bang echoed out from outside the shack; flinching and covering his ears, dropping his Legos and Dr. Mittens. He pants, his chest feeling tight. ‘It can’t be’ he thinks to himself ‘I’m safe here. This is home, no one from those other dimensions can get here. Get me. Get my family.’ Despite these thoughts, his lips wobble and his eye sting with tears, what if someone came to hurt him? He can’t stop the cries that come from his mouth, his adult brain knows it’s probably just the trashcan lid falling, but he can’t think with his adult brain now. He’s feeling smaller now, his thoughts are smaller now. Logic and reasoning don’t always apply to his Big and Scary Thoughts.

“Ford, Buddy? You alright I heard-Ford! What happened!” Stan called out, his walk into the living room turning into a sprint when he sees Ford crying. “C’mon, tell me what’s wrong, huh? What hurts!?” Stan tries to calm his panicked voice, hovering frantically over Ford.

“Th-the-hic-the noise o-outside. C-coming to get me!” Ford wailed, turning and burying his head into Stan’s shoulder. One hand grabbing Dr. Mittens from the ground, the other going to pull his hair. His hand gets intercepted before it can do that, Stan pulling it away and holding it in one of his with a soft “please don’t” being uttered with the movement.

“Who’s coming to get you, Bud? Hmm? The noise was just Fidds’ raccoon wife getting into the trash can again, nothing more.” Stan doesn’t get it! Ford’s made so many enemies, someone is bound to come find him! He yanks on Stan’s hand in lieu on answering, finding it hard to find the right words to explain. Why can’t he just understand!

“Hey, we don’t yank or pull on limbs, Stanford. Come on, let’s dry those tears and calm down just a little okay? And then maybe you can explain what’s got you so scared.” Stan wraps an arm around Ford’s shoulder, pulling him into a hug, repetitively patting Ford’s arm in an effort to help regulate his breathing.

He breathes in and out with Stan’s tapping, his panting slowing down but the tears still coming fast and hot down his face. He swallows the lump in his throat, clutching Dr. Mittens to his chest, resisting to urge to nibble his ear. “The-the bang noise. ‘Scared me an’ I thought it-it was someone from that time coming to hurt me again an’, an’,” he buries his head in his knees for a moment, Stan letting his, before he takes a big breathe and finishes his sentence, “An’ I got Big Thoughts, Scary ones that wouldn’t go away.” He finishes lamely, closing his eyes as his brother wipes his tears with his top. His nose scrunches up at the smell at Stan’s sweat.

“Oh, those capital ‘Big’ and ‘Scary’ thoughts, it must’ve been really bad, huh, Sixer. But don’t worry, we’ve checked just today, no inter dimensional anomalies or presences, our radar would’ve gone off if there were.” Oh. Ford didn’t think of that. He sniffles, huddling in closer to Stan, basically on his lap, resting his head into the side of his neck. This is why he needs Stan, he’s always there to chase away his Scarey Thoughts, and if chasing doesn’t work, punch them away. That’s why Stan’s his Buddy. The thought of Stan punching his literal thoughts away brings a giggle to Ford’s throat. And more spill out as Stan ruffles his hair.

“Oh? What’s so funny now, you laughin’ at this old man?” Stan points to himself.

“No-o-o-o!” Ford giggles, his hair being ruffled makes him feeling ticklish all over, “Buddy! ‘M not!” He laughs loudly as Stan falls over dramatically, Ford clutched in his arms. They lay there laughing for a good few minutes, Eventually settling down as Ford clings to Stan’s front, not wanting him to leave him.

“Stay, Buddy?” He asks Stan, using his best puppy dog eyes, a weakness of his brothers, but one he’s willing to exploit. And it works, Stan holds him tighter and closer, nuzzling his head and tickling it a little with his sigh.

“Of course, Sixer. As long as you want. We can even nap here-“ Ford cuts him off with an indignant “No” because he has his designated nap spot and it’s not on the living room carpet, it’s his little fort in his and Stan’s room. “Okay, no naps in here then, guess I’ll have to move my brittle old bones alllll the way to our room, huh?” Ford nods his head, glad Stanley got it. But he didn’t make any moves, content to just lay here, not quite all the way calm yet. Besides, he doesn’t have nap time for another hour and-he calculates in his head-seventeen minutes, plenty of time to lay in Stan’s arms on the living room floor.

“Alright, alright. I’ll move you when it’s nap time, just stay here in my arms until then, I need some Ford Floor Time.” Stan squeezes him tighter, Ford melting into the pressure. Well, he who was he to argue with Stan needing Ford Time? Signing, he basks softly in the calming presence of his brother for the next hour-and-now-16 minutes.

[squatch-and-stretch]

Chapter 4

After eating, sleeping arrangements for the time are sorted out— Stanford and Fiddleford share the couch, heads on opposite armrests. Luckily, Stanford has always been the type to curl up, and the couch is long enough that Fiddleford’s feet only reach his chest even when he sprawls. Stanley sleeps on the floor, an arrangement Fiddleford only agreed to after he gathered up enough pillows and blankets to make a decent little nest for him.

The twins fall asleep quickly enough, but Fiddleford struggles to settle down against the noises of other living creatures in his space. Stanley snorts and mumbles softly in his sleep. He's curled up against the wall, near Stanford’s head. Fiddleford can hear him, but if there’s any words in his sleepy rambles, he can’t make them out.

He used to like it, falling asleep to Stanford mumbling equations at his desk, or to Emma-May’s quiet breathing. The sounds of Stanford pacing and ranting and bumping into the walls kept him up once, but in a way, his current restfulness unnerves him all the more. He's waiting for the other shoe to drop, for Stanford to wake up with a wide grin and bright yellow eyes, to grab him and finish in Stanford’s body what he started in his own.

It’s quiet outside. It often is. The beasts here are dangerous, but not numerous. Occasionally Fiddleford will be roused from his sleep by some nocturnal monster, but more often than not, it’s just quiet. He misses crickets. He misses coyotes.

Suddenly, Stanford shifts, one leg kicking out at the backrest as he curls up tighter. Fiddleford sits up immediately, drawing his legs away from Stanford and staring at the hunched form of him in the dark. He’s shaking, little noises of distress spilling from his pursed lips.

Thoughts of Bill’s possession and the danger he might pose are discarded immediately. Stanford, for all that he’s always been bulkier than Fiddleford, looks impossibly small where he’s curled, twitching on the couch.

“Stanford,” Fiddleford whisper-shouts, leaning a bit closer. “Wake up, hun, come on.”

Stanford doesn’t react. His hand clenches against the back of the couch, pushing at it weakly.

“Hey, come on, up you get,” Fiddleford insists, reaching out to take Stanford’s shoulder.

Before he can reach, Stanford’s eye shoots open and a six-fingered grip takes his wrist firmly and twists. Fiddleford yelps, bracing a foot against Stanford’s leg as he scrambles to get away from his iron grip. Stanford follows his movement, sitting up like he’s being tugged along rather than consciously moving his own body.

He’s grinning, and even if it’s hard to make out the details of his eyes in the dim light, he knows they’re yellow, pupils slitted. From his eye, something dark runs down his cheek.

“Heya Specs! Good to see you again! Honestly, I’m surprised you’re alive!”

Fiddleford wants to retort back, say anything that would get that sickening grin off of Stanford’s face, but the words catch in his throat. He can’t say a thing.

“Nice talk, but you’re not the one I want to torment right now!” Bill says from Stanford’s mouth, and he gives Fiddleford’s wrist one final, painful squeeze before shoving him away and off the couch. “Where’s my inferior clone?”

Fiddleford hits the ground hard, unable to catch himself with his other hand. Instantly he turns towards where Stanley was resting. The terms of Bill’s possession are unclear, Fiddleford has no idea how to expel that demon from Stanford’s body without hurting him, or even with hurting him if it came to that.

What is clear, however, is the danger Bill’s occupation poses to both him and Stanley.

Fiddleford rolls onto his hand and knees to make his way towards Stanley— he doesn’t know what to do, but it’s bound to be easier if Stanley’s awake for it— but Bill reaches him first. He tumbles Stanford’s body over the arm of the couch, landing directly on top of Stanley.

“What the hell?” Stanley grunts, “get offa me, Ford!”

“Aw, why? Don’t you miss me, brother?” Bill teases. “Don’t you want a hug?”

Whatever Stanford does, it has Stanley crying out in pain. Fiddleford scrambles to his feet.

“Oh, he got you good didn’t he! Bet it really hurts! I’m jealous!” Bill continues, and Stanley’s shout trails off into the loud, shaky breaths of someone trying very hard not to agitate an injury.

“Ford— what—“ Stanley wheezes.

“It’s Bill!” Fiddleford corrects, looping an arm around Stanford’s neck in an attempt to pull him off of Stanley.

Bill lets out a choked laugh, one hand clawing at Stanley’s shoulder while the other scrambles against Fiddleford’s arm. His nails are short— Stanford always had a bad habit of chewing at them— but there’s enough there to dig into his skin.

“This is all your fault!” Bill wheezes. “As usual, you ruined everything, Mackerel! I tried to tell Sixer here that this would happen, but he trusted you! And look where it’s gotten us! You, branded like a cow, him, stuck in another world, and me without my portal!”

Branded. Stanley’s cry of pain, the way he’d been favoring one arm all day, his wince when Fiddleford mentioned burning himself—

“Let go, you damnable triangle!” Fiddleford snaps, and Stanley scrambles to get Stanford’s hand off of his shoulder just as Fiddleford throws his full weight backwards. It’s hard to keep him in place without support from his other arm, but it’s enough to pull him free.

“You worthless sack of rotting meat!” Bill snarls, wrenching himself free of Fiddleford’s grip now that he’s no longer wasting a hand on tormenting Stanley. “I will get what I want, and Palo Alto will be my first stop once I wipe Gravity Falls off the map! You’re about to miss a lot of birthdays, hick, but I’ll show Tater how to party!”

“You keep his name out of your mouth!” Fiddleford shouts, and before he can think better of it, he throws his full weight into a punch to Stanford’s jaw.

He doesn’t have a lot of weight, even less now than ever before, but it’s enough that Stanford stumbles, falls, and slams his temple into the break room countertop.

Fiddleford freezes, locked in the follow through. Stanley stares from where he’s sitting on the ground, a hand covering his shoulder, wide eyes flicking between Fiddleford and Stanford.

“… Hell of a left hook,” Stanley says faintly.

“Oh my lord,” Fiddleford breathes, and both of them scramble towards the unconscious form of Stanford at once.

“Hey, wake up, Poindexter,” Stanley demands, tapping Stanford’s cheek with an open palm.

Fiddleford grabs Stanford’s wrist, reminds himself that he's never been able to feel someone’s pulse there, and leans forward to rest his head on his chest instead, listening to the steady beat of his heart and feeling the way it rises and falls with each breath.

He didn’t kill him, thank the lord. Still, a potential brain injury is a potential brain injury and Stanley is right to try to wake him. Still, last time Fiddleford had tried to wake him…

“Stay here, be careful,” Fiddleford says, waiting for Stanley to acknowledge him— a confused glance, good enough— before he darts out of the break room.

Somewhere around here, in some pile of crap Fiddleford never got around to sorting through— ah, there it is. Fiddleford fishes a length of rope from a pile of scrap fabric, then retrieves the reading light from his desk.

Supplies successfully gathered, he returns to the break room. Stanley has moved Stanford so his head is resting in his lap, and keeps poking at him in an attempt to rouse him.

“Gonna need you to tie the knots,” Fiddleford says, handing over the rope as he settles down beside Stanford.

“What?” Stanley holds the rope limply, apparently baffled by its sudden presence in his hands.

“Tie his wrists, Stanley, I know he hurt you and I wanna make sure he doesn’t do it again.”

“Whaddya mean, I’m fine,” Stanley says quickly. “He was pushing you around too, wasn’t he? Are you fine?”

“Don’t even start with me,” Fiddleford sighs, “once we get Stanford sorted out, you’d best believe I’m checkin’ in on your shoulder.”

“What shoulder?” Stanley says, and then immediately winces.

“Just tie your brother's arms, will you?”

Stanley grumbles unhappily, but does so with unnerving ease. It’s not the first time he’s done something like this, Fiddleford reckons.

Once he’s bound, Fiddleford lets out a soft sigh of relief, letting himself rest his hand against Stanford’s chest, comforted by the feeling of his heart beating beneath his palm.

“Come on hun,” Fiddleford gently requests. “Why don’t ya wake up?”

“So, is calling your lab partner ‘hun’ a nerd thing or a southern thing?” Stanley says, absently continuing to poke at Stanford’s cheek even as he looks up at Fiddleford with a shit-eating grin.

“Is now really the time?” Fiddleford hisses.

“Hey, I find my fun where I can,” Stanley says with a tight shrug. He pinches either side of Stanford’s lips, parting them as he talks in a mocking voice. “I’m Stanford Pines, I want to make out with Nikola Tesla, polynomial equations, and maybe my lab assistant!”

“Will you hush up?” Fiddleford snaps, feeling his cheeks go red. Still, there’s something to be said for the redirection of the tension in the room.

Then, Stanford groans softly, and all that tension returns. Stanley pulls his hand away as if burnt. Fiddleford moves his hand down to Stanford’s bound wrists, checking the knots there.

“Nnn… wha…” Stanford‘s eyes open slowly.

As soon as they do, Fiddleford is flicking the reading light on and shining it into his eyes. He immediately hisses and squeezes them shut, but Fiddleford catches a glimpse of his round pupils before he does.

“Wh—“ Stanford grumbles, before he suddenly bolts upright. “Stanley!”

“Right here, Six,” Stanley says calmly, leaning away just in time to avoid getting headbutted.

“He— Bill, he wanted to— he blamed you for ruining the portal, stranding me on this side where I couldn’t help him, he wanted to— and he wasn’t even the one—“

Stanford trails off, looking at Stanley with wide, desperate eyes before he leans his head forward, resting it on Stanley’s uninjured shoulder. After a moment of hesitation, Stanley unties his brother’s wrists and wraps his arm around him, sighing into his hair as he leans his cheek against the top of his head.

“Stanley…” Stanford whines, like a child seeking comfort.

“I got you,” Stanley says carefully. Fiddleford meets his eyes, and sees the uncertainty there. “We’re gonna figure this out, Ford.”

“We’d better,” Fiddleford agrees, and Stanford curls tighter into Stanley’s arms at the sound of his voice. He tries not to take it personally. “We did most of the hard work, if that equilateral bastard can find some other schmuck to break in and finish it off, it’s over.”

Stanford peels himself away from Stanley, turning to look at Fiddleford. His eyes are wet, cheeks ruddy. There's blood smeared down one of them, the few tears he allowed to slip doing little to dilute it.

“I’m— I’m so sorry, Fiddleford,” Stanford says, half reaching for him as well.

Fiddleford sighs helplessly, and catches Stanford’s hand before it can retreat. Despite the bruise Bill had pressed into his wrist with these same hands, the six fingers fitting comfortably between his own are as soothing as they’ve ever been.

It’s not like Stanford never apologizes, but it’s a rare occurrence. He’ll apologize for little things, like waking Fiddleford up at some ungodly hour, but never for the larger strokes, like almost getting Fiddleford killed again and again. If Stanford was actually invested in his actions, getting him to apologize for them was like pulling teeth.

And in the time since their reunion, there was nothing he was more invested in than that portal.

“You— you were right about everything. I should have listened to you, I can’t believe I was so foolish!”

“Dumbest genius I’ve ever met,” Fiddleford agrees, and the resigned hurt on Stanford’s face has him squeezing his hand in an attempt at comfort. “But you’re still a genius. If anyone can figure out how to stop him, I reckon it’s us.”

(Un)happy Reunion

Ford Pines & Stan Pines & Fiddleford McGucket | 3,143 words | Mystery Trio Through the Multiverse AU

Fiddleford reunites with Stanford and meets Stanley after 6 months alone in a post-apocalyptic city in some other dimension.

Chapter 1

see notes for future chapters!

If Fiddleford had to describe this world he’s spent the past 6 months in in a single word, he’d probably choose terrible. Other descriptors such as strange, horrible, post-apocalyptic, and dangerous also come to mind. Lately, though, he’s been putting a lot of thought into the word lonely.

There were intelligent species here, once. It’s clear in the almost-familiar design of this destroyed city, in the tattered books written in a language Fiddleford can’t make any sense of, in every little item he comes across. He even has an idea of what they looked like— he’s seen their art, their pictures, their mangled bodies— and Fiddleford has to wonder if Bill understood the cruel irony of sending him to a world that was once inhabited by pig people.

He wonders, sometimes, if he could have found a way to communicate with them, if any of them were left. Would his throat have been able to form the words of their language, or theirs his? Would they have tried to help him? Just being around another living creature that didn’t try to kill him on sight would be pretty nice right now.

Unfortunately, that’s never been what this planet has in store for him, and when he hears something move nearby, he knows it’s a threat.

It must be in the next alleyway, and it’s fairly big— most of the monsters Bill left here are. Fiddleford goes still, staring in the direction of the alleyway and listening for any other sign of movement. It’s quiet for a moment, until Fiddleford hears a loud crash and what sounds like hushed murmuring. So many things have sounded like human voices lately that he doesn’t put any stock into it, just dips into the nearest alleyway in an attempt to escape whatever is making that noise before it even knows he’s here.

It’s an attempt that fails immediately, as he crashes into a pile of shredded metal like an idiot. It slices through the worn fabric of his pants, but as far as he can tell it doesn’t reach skin. It does, however, make a very loud noise, and the not-voices go quiet.

“Son of a gun,” he allows himself to hiss, and he takes off down the alleyway without any further regard to the sound he’s making.

Something steps out in front of him, blocking his way. It’s taller than the previous inhabitants of this planet, but smaller than most of the monsters he’s encountered. It’s built a lot like a person, and not a particularly imposing one at that, so Fiddleford doesn’t slow his roll for a moment. He fishes a knife out of the tattered pocket of his lab coat, and slams his shoulder into the beast.

It cries out, still sounding a heck of a lot like a person as it hits the ground, breaking Fiddleford’s fall. He presses the knife to what should be its throat, and is almost surprised to find smooth, human-looking skin beneath his blade. It’s a familiar shade, even, and Fiddleford can’t help but let his eyes wander further up to its face—

“Stanford?” Fiddleford spits, downright baffled to see his big brown eyes looking up at him.

Stanford opens his mouth to respond, but before he can, Fiddleford is being hauled off of him. Something has grabbed the back of his scarf and pulled it tight, tight enough that Fiddleford gags against the construction, tight enough that he’s reminded of Bill’s hand around him, crushing the breath from his lungs, and suddenly he’s being slammed against the brick wall of the alleyway and crushed between Bill’s uncaring fingers and—

“Stanley!”

That’s Stanford’s voice, he’d recognize it anywhere, but how is he here?

“Who the fuck—“

A voice, closer than Stanford’s, unfamiliar but definitely not Bill. It’s a person that’s holding him, and even if he’s struggling to breathe against the arm pressed to his throat, he can deal with a person.

Fiddleford kicks out, slamming his knee between the legs of his assailant.

“Son of a—!” he shouts, but he lets go of Fiddleford to stumble back.

“Stop! Stanley, this is Fiddleford! He’s the reason we’re here!” Stanford says, inserting himself between the two of them. “Well, he’s the reason I wanted to be here. You’re the reason you’re here and we don’t know how to get back.”

Yep, that insufferable holier-than-thou tone is definitely Stanford.

“I’m the reason you’re here?” Fiddleford chokes, rubbing his throat as he tries to regain his bearings. “It’s your fault I’m here!”

“I know that!” Stanford says, turning to Fiddleford.

Stanford looks about the same as he left him, beyond the dark circles under his eyes. Fiddleford knows the same can’t be said about himself.

“Listen, Fiddleford, I—“

“Save it, Stanford,” Fiddleford snaps, shaking his head as he turns towards the other man in the alleyway. “You must be Stanley?”

When Fiddleford first heard about Stanford’s twin, he imagined a carbon copy of his then-roommate. Stanley is not that. They’re nearly identical in the shapes of their faces, the texture and shade of their hair, the slope and color of their eyes, but the similarities end there. Put simply, Stanley looks like shit, with long, tangled hair, an unshaven face, and dark circles to rival Stanford’s, all wrapped up in a ratty jacket over an even rattier shirt. Even the way he holds himself is worrying, the way he’s hunched in on himself like a coiled spring, turned to the side like he’s keeping something just out of sight, eyes weary, teeth grit.

“Yeah, that’s me,” Stanley grumbles, and he draws himself even tighter. Even in conversation he’s locked on the defensive, and with the brief glimpse of an interaction between him and Stanford, Fiddleford can’t say he blames him.

“Nice ta meet ya, Stanley. I’d offer to shake your hand, but mine seems to be missin’,” Fiddleford greets. “Well, not missin’ exactly, I know where it is, but it ain’t doin’ me much good inside the stomach of some rottin’ monster.”

“Your arm!” Stanford exclaims belatedly.

He grabs for Fiddleford’s shoulder, but Fiddleford quickly smacks his hand away, a shudder running through his body at the phantom sensation of someone grabbing at what remains of his arm. He steps away, eyeing Ford wearily, almost expecting him to try again.

He doesn’t. He brings his hand back, tucking it to his chest for just a moment, hurt in his eyes. After a moment, he clears his throat, straightens up, and tucks his hands behind his back.

“I take it that’s a new development?” Stanley says, watching Fiddleford carefully. The matching scrutinizing gazes of both twins sets Fiddleford even further on edge.

“I would never have allowed such grievous injury to come to him under my care!” Stanford huffs, glaring at Stanley.

Fiddleford barks out a laugh, shaking his head.

“And who’s god-forsaken vanity project brought me here, Stanford?”

“Easy, Fiddlesticks,” Stanley cuts in before Stanford can respond. “None of us are happy to be here, but he—“

Fiddleford raises his hand. “Shut yer yap.”

“Okay, rude—“

“I mean it, don’t ya hear that?” Fiddleford hisses. It’s barely audible, not like Stanford and Stanley’s rustling in a nearby alleyway. Something is moving through the main streets.

“I don’t hear shit, except some hillbilly interrupting me wh—“

“I hear it,” Stanford says, and Stanley throws his arms up in frustration.

Click-click, drag, click-click, click-click. Three functional limbs, one dragging along, moving at a gradual, unhurried pace. The time between each step suggests a step length of perhaps a meter. It’s large, too large for Fiddleford to deal with without his arm, but likely small enough to fit into this alleyway. Stanley seems pretty tough, and Stanford had somehow held his own for 6 years in Gravity Falls despite its many dangers, but he wasn’t about to trust either of them in a fight against whatever unknown beast was approaching.

“It’s coming from—“ Stanford whispers, and despite the low volume, Fiddleford cringes at the sound.

“I know,” Fiddleford snips quietly, “follow me.”

Fiddleford doesn’t bother to check if either of them listened— Stanford reacts well to confidence, and with any luck, Stanley would as well— before he’s slinking out of the alleyway, carefully watching his step this time.

“Come on, dumbass,” Stanley hisses, and Fiddleford spares them a glance. Both have moved to follow, but Stanford is hesitating, looking behind him even as Stanley grabs his arm and pulls him along behind him.

“I just want a look—“ Stanford mumbles, shaking Stanley’s hand off.

“This ain’t Gravity Falls, Stanford, an’ I won’t hesitate to leave you ‘n’ your brother for mincemeat if you don’t hurry yer asses up!”

Stanford immediately turns towards Fiddleford, eyes wide, mouth parted in shock. Fiddleford glares at him, lets him truly believe he means it (Fiddleford knows he wouldn’t leave Stanford or his brother, damn him) before he turns back around and continues on the way. This time, Stanford and Stanley follow without any further prompting, though Fiddleford hears what sounds like an amused snort from Stanley at Stanford’s sudden obedience.

[peepingwizard]

this man was a mad scientist in the woods in the 1970's, ofc he smoked like a chimney.

full sketch page beneath cut

[inannasdream]

its been almost a year and i still haven't watched the last episode matpat hosted for game theory. i just couldn't and still can't bring myself to watch a video that shows with no room for misinterpretation that that part of my life is far in the past. i hadn't even been watching more than like a handful of gt vids a year for years at that point and i still couldn't watch that last episode. i want to at least watch the final live stream he hosted for gtlive this week but i also can't bring myself to even click on it. like i watched a bit of the first episode ash hosted on their own and i still haven't watched the aforementioned stream. instead i have been rewatching the vods from the first couple eras of gtlive bc those are the ones that really stuck with me ever since i started watching gtlive in like 2016. thanks matt and steph for making me not want to kill myself. jason and chris you guys were there too.

[jellyfishbug]

POP THE HOOD F'ME

pairing. chris x reader genre. smut with plot. MDNI. word count [5.2k]

content; mechanic!chris, flirty!chris, smoking (they share a cig), sex with a stranger ig? semi public, car head (m recieving), face fucking, big dick chris, reader has an eyebrow piercing, use of pet names, dirty talk, swearing

Maybe it was just dumb luck.

My dad has been promising me that his old ford pickup was gonna be mine when I got my license since I was ten. However, not long after my sixteenth birthday, he randomly decided that his promise had conditions.

I had to fix it myself.

I had been putting off working on it for years. I just didn't have the time, and it needed a lot of work. The list of things to be fixed was long, and I knew if I started then, I wouldn't have finished.

Finally, the time presented itself for me to start. I finally had a summer that wasn't so busy, so I decided in May of this year I was finally going to do it.

I was finally going to get my own truck.

So I did; I worked on it for two long months. Two long months spent in the garage on my back under the heavy pickup with my hands covered in soot and oil whilst sweat dripped down my face. Two long months spent fixing the paint job and fiddling around under the hood, my hair tied back to keep it off my neck while the sun beamed through the opened garage door.

I finally felt confident enough to take it out for a test drive today. It was starting fine in the garage, and I'd driven it around the block a number of times without fail.

I excitedly hopped in the driver's seat and shut the heavy door, jamming my keys into the ignition and grinning at the sound of the roar when the engine started. I made it pretty much across town without a single problem, and I thought I was in the clear.

So, maybe it was just dumb luck when not even an hour later, here I am, standing on the side of the road next to said pickup with the hood popped and smoke coming out of the cabin.

Or maybe, just maybe, it was dumb luck when I realized I was only three blocks away from an auto shop, and a guy pulled over to help drag my car there.

It felt like forever when we finally reached the parking lot. The red and white sign that hung over the opened garage doors read 'sturniolo's auto-repair".

For the most part, the slots were empty, except for a 58' baby blue Impala that was suspended off the ground, and a brand new silver Subaru outback that sat right next to it.

As we finally pushed it into the open slot on the far end of the garage, I let out a sigh of relief, wiping the sweat off my forehead with one hand and letting them both rest at my sides.

I thanked the stranger for his assistance and he wished me luck, mumbling about how much a repair on a truck like this was going to cost before wandering off. I scowled at him as soon as he turned away from me.

Walking away from the smokey and damaged shell of a car, I pushed open the clear glass door into the entry-way of the shop, and the sound of the ringing bells that were carefully tied at the top of the door filled my ears.

Near the desk stood two boys, both were brunettes that roughly stood at the same height. The first was wearing a red toyota nascar cap backwards over his brown hair, as well as a black tank top and a navy blue mechanic's suit that hugged his frame. The name patch on the chest of it read "Matt". He was speaking to another customer, flailing the rag around as he emphasized his points with his hands.

The other was standing behind the counter, a gray bandana tied around his head. He wore a navy blue button up that he left completely open with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, making the white tank top he wore under it visible.

The name patch on his chest read "Chris", and a white rag was thrown over his shoulder. A plethora of keys were hooked to a red carabiner that hung around the belt loop of his jeans. The desk hid his lower half below his waistline, and as I stepped closer, I saw a toothpick in between his teeth and his eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he jotted down words on a yellow notepad with a pencil.

I slowly walked up to the desk, my arms at my sides. He didn't raise his head to look at me, he just continued writing, so I cleared my throat.

His head shot up, and his expression fell into embarrassment.

"Fuck- sorry, I didn't hear you come in. How long ‘v you been standing there?"

I laughed lightly and shook my head. "Not long, I just walked in."

A smile painted itself onto his face as he set the pencil down and put his hands in his pockets just far enough that his thumbs still stuck out. "What can i do for ya?" He asked kindly, the toothpick in his mouth moving as he spoke.

"My truck broke down three blocks ago and wouldn't start. I tried looking under the hood to see the problem, but it was smoking, so I pushed it here." I explained, my hands finding each other and clasping together at my front.

He raised his eyebrows and tilted his head slightly. "Jesus, you wheeled it all the way here?" He asked, laughing breathily when I nodded my head in response. "Atta girl. What kind of truck is it?"

"A ford pickup," I responded all too quickly, my voice strained as I tried to ignore how my heart swelled in my chest from the impressed look on his face. He nodded as he opened the drawer next to him and pulled out a ballpoint pen, picking up the notepad once again to start writing. "What year and license plate?"

"85', boston plate, the number is 289 BTO. " I watched as he wrote mindlessly, the handwriting barely coherent.

"'M kay, I'll take a look at it for you." he said, setting the notepad and pen back down on the counter. He opened his palm, gesturing for my keys, and I dropped them into his grasp. He hooked the ring that held them together around his index finger.

"Wait here, should only be a couple minutes."

I nodded as he circled around to the end of the desk, walking past me and pushing open the door to the garage.

His absence gave me a chance to examine the decor of the office space. Family and baby portraits crowded on top of the counter below the window behind the desk. A mickey mouse clock sat above the side door, and a large OPEN sign hung in the window.

The wall was crowded with plates and signs. One that caught my eye was an eagle with its claws digging into a hanging mirror, the name HARLEY DAVIDSON displayed in bright orange letters above the eagle's head. Next to the register was a small bell with a sign that said "ring for service" and the words 'don't actually' were scribbled in sharpie above.

Just when I was getting lost in thought, I heard the door bells jingle a second time, and Chris walked back in. The rag was now hanging loosely in his palm as he approached the counter. He stood right next to me, reaching over for the notepad and throwing the rag back over his now bare shoulder, which is when I realized he had discarded his button up. My eyes dart down to see the keys to my truck now hanging on a different belt loop on his jeans.

"From what I can see," he starts, popping the cap of the pen off and leaving it in between his teeth as he spoke. "It looks like a coolant leak. The combination from the antifreeze leaking and the heat of the engine is enough to make it smoke, but it's not enough to cause the engine freeze up." he explains, his eyes meeting mine every couple of words to make sure i understand. "So, it could also be a fuel pump problem combined with the leak."

I nodded, chewing my lip nervously as he went on to explain the time the repair would take as well as the cost. When the words, "not finished until at least tomorrow" left his lips, I huffed in defeat, and tried to make my disappointment less evident as i crossed my arms in front of my chest.

"How long have you had it?" He asked, now leaning against the counter next to us with one elbow, crossing one foot over the other.

"I've only started to work on it this summer, but it's been my dads since before i was born."

He nodded. "It's a pretty ride," he confessed. "I honestly expected it to look worse when you said 85', but the conditions not bad. You been workin' on it a lot?"

"As much as I can." I shrugged.

He complimented the paint job, to which i confessed i'd done it, and he gushed. "Christ, you should work here. Matt can't paint to save his life. You could probably get him out of a job,"

Matt sent a glare his way. "Shut up, kid. Dad would fire you over me any day, especially if you keep sleeping in."

Chris laughed, a genuine sound that made Matt's glare turn into a small smile before he went back to rifling through the file cabinet.

He turned back to me, pausing to look back over the notes he'd written down. "If i had to guess, I'd say we can probably have it to you by tomorrow evening." he said, looking away from the paper and averting his gaze to instead look me right in the eye. "That work for you?"

I nodded slowly. Suddenly, the issue of a ride home became extremely apparent, and an anxious feeling started to blossom in my chest.

"Good. Just one more thing. . ." he pauses to take the pen cap out of his mouth and place it back on the pen, tapping it against the curve of his hand and grinning wildly at me.

"i'm gonna need your number to let you know when its finished."

He's just asking because he's supposed to; because he literally has to in order for me to get my car back. But regardless, i felt heat rise to my cheeks as i started shifting uncomfortably in place.

"Right," I said, moving to reach for the pen. He points to a blank part of the notepad, tapping lightly to tell me where to write it.

Quickly and shakily, i write out the numbers with dashes. I hand it back to him, and a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. He rips the sheet off the notepad in one swift motion and folds it in half, placing it in his back pocket.

He glances towards the clock. Its nearing seven. He turns back to me, "d'you have a ride home?"

My eyes went wide. I'm reminded of my attempt to call my dad three times when the truck initially broke down, and how my shoulders slumped in defeat at the sound of his voicemail playing repeatedly.

I glance back over to him, ". . . Not exactly. I'll probably just catch the bu-"

"I can drive you,"

I swallowed, my lips slightly parted in surprise. His grin was still wide, awaiting my response.

It was a sweet offer, really. But considering my house was across town, partnered with the fact that he was literally on the job, i shook my head. "That's really sweet, thank you, but I'm far. And you're working, anyway." He shrugs, glancing at the clock once more. "It's fine, Matt's on desk duty and he's closing tonight. I don't mind."

I chew my lip. I'd be stupid to pass up on a ride, but i barely know this kid, and if my dad sees me rolling up with him and no truck, it wouldn't look great.

And then I think about the hour long bus ride that would be in the near future if I declined.

I screw my eyes shut. "You know what? Why not."

Despite the scenario i was in, my mind was pushing out any and all nerves as I watched Chris collect his things from behind the desk. He pulled his wallet, shop keys and jacket out of a cubby.

The two of us walked back into the garage and over to Matt, who was washing his hands in a sink bellow the tool shelves.

Chris bid goodbye to his brother, who looked at the clock and then frowned, turning the faucet off and reaching for the roll of papers towels.

"You're seriously slacking off? I already covered for you and Nate leaving early last weekend." He complained, discarding the wad of paper towels he'd used to dry his hands into the trash bin below.

Chris shot him a look. "And then i covered your sunday morning shift because you were hungover. You owe me."

Matt rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. Just put your tools away when you open tomorrow. It drives me fucking insane when you leave them everywhere."

Chris salutes. "Roger that." He turned to me and winked, gesturing to follow him through the garage with a tilt of his head.

I followed behind him as he went out a different exit; this one leading to a parking lot on the back of the building. A large EMPLOYEE PARKING sign hung on the fence near the driveway.

He fiddled with the many keys on his carabiner before finally finding his and walking towards a car near the opening in the gate.

A blue, four-seater, convertible 65' mustang. The light from the setting sun literally reflected off of it. He mindlessly stuck the key into the passenger side door, twisting and pulling it open with a faint click.

He gestured his hand towards the seat playfully, "Ladies first."

I rolled my eyes, placing one foot on the floor of the car and ducking my head to sit down. "How gentlemanly of you,"

He grinned at me, closing the door and walking around the back of the car before popping into the driver's seat.

"This is.. wow." I mutter, admiring the small details and cleanliness of the car as he closed his door and threw his belongings in the back. "Jesus, this is yours?"

He smiled proudly, his tongue darting out to dampen his bottom lip. "All mine,"

His fingers twisted the key into the ignition and the roar of the engine made the car buzz against my feet. He rolled both of our windows down, the summer air blowing smoothly through the car.

His smile was wider and prouder than ever as he glanced into the rear view mirror, throwing an arm over the back of my seat to glance behind him as he reversed. We pulled out of the parking lot and turned left onto the main road, Chris letting the steering wheel slide back into place under his palm by itself once he'd done so.

"You said you were far," he mumbled. "What area are you in?"

The question pulled me back into reality. I'd gotten so distracted by the way he drove so carelessly, like he was completely relaxed and in control of everything movement the car made, like fear didn't even exist to him as he pressed harder onto the gas pedal with his foot, my eyes choosing to ignore the way the tic on the speed meter start to spike.

His jawline was illuminated in the dim light, and the toothpick that was still resting on his lips stayed moving as he spoke gently, waiting patiently for me to answer.

I started giving him directions, and he listened carefully and intently, glancing over to look at me to make sure he understood my instructions. Once we were on the freeway, he went even faster, lane switching if someone in front of him wasn't going as fast as he'd like them to.

Soft giggles left me as he did, basking in the view of his lips parted into a smile, showcasing pearly teeth between pink lips.

Once he pulled onto the off ramp and we were stopped at a red light, he turned to look at me again, the bright red turning the car a faint shade of crimson.

"What time do you need to be back?"

He asked with a tone of voice he hadn't used till now. The sudden lowness caught me off guard as I shrugged, "'Dunno, not for a while."

He hummed in acknowledgement. "You wanna stay on the road for a bit?"

I pull my knees up to my chest and let my head fall against the headrest, a careless smile on my face. "Definitely."

And we did; we ended up back on the highway pretty quickly, blasting music through a speaker Chris had propped against the dashboard.

His speed only got higher and higher as time went on, carelessly resting one hand on the wheel whilst the other gripped the gear shift. At some point, his hand had mindlessly traveled to rest on my upper bare thigh below the hem of my shorts, cold and partially ringed fingers pressing against my skin.

"Will you do me a favor?"

I raised my eyebrows and hummed in response. He gestured towards the glove box. "Theres a pack of camel blue 99s in the glove box, would you grab em for me?"

I bit my lip. "Depends, you sharing?"

"Duh."

I leaned forward, feeling my stomach flip when his hand didn't much as move an inch on my thigh, brushing against my lower stomach as I lurched forward to fiddle with the glovebox.

I propped it open and grabbed the pack and paused, "d'you have a light?"

He nodded. "Should be one in there."

I learned more forward and reached farther back, glancing around before locking my eyes on a silver flip top lighter and grabbing it. Once i lean back up, Chris is pulling into an empty lot. His hand leaves my leg to push the gear into park, and i try not to frown.

I flick the top of the cig carton open and hastily pull one out, dropping it into Chris's palm.

He places it hazardly between his lips and turns to face me, silently asking for me to light it.

I pop the lid of the zippo open and hold the flam to the end of his cig, waiting to pull away until his expression signifies that its lit enough. His expression relaxes as he breathes in before pulling it away from his mouth with two fingers and exhaling, the smoke filling the car.

"If I'm honest, I prefer marlboro reds." I say quietly in an attempt to break the silence, watching Chris flick the ash out the window lazily with his thumb and index finger. He shakes his head. "Camels are undeniably better."

I laugh lightly and raise my eyebrows in amusement. "No accounting for taste, I suppose."

He takes another drag before holding it in between his fingers in front of my face, and Instead of reaching for it, I place my lips around the filter while it's still in his hand. Our eyes lock while I breath in sharper, the cool feel of the smoke filling my chest.

He licks his lips, and for a moment, his eyes dart down to look at mine, and he's starts he's studying my face. I'm doing the same.

His eyes are bright blue, surrounded by thick lashes, which are barely visible with stray pieces of his hair hanging down below the bandana on his head. Freckles lightly paint his noise, and his pink lips are slightly parted as his eyes scan my face.

"I like your piercing," he finally says, pressing his one hand to his eyebrow as if he had one himself. I breathe out the smoke i'd been holding in my lungs and smile at him. He's still looking at it as he speaks again, "Did it hurt?"

I shrug. "Not really," Because it didn't, but also because I'd feel like an idiot saying it did. "Just a pinch."

He nodded slowly. "Hm."

I take another hit from the cig which he's still holding up to my lips. Our faces are closer now. One of my elbows is resting on the center console as I look at him through my lashes.

"You should get one." I say.

He laughs, breathy and genuine. "Yeah? You think so?"

"Mhm," i reach my hand up to graze above his eye with two fingers. "It would look good on you." He watches my movements. "We'd match, too."

He digs his teeth into his bottom lip, finally moving the cig back to his own lips and taking one more long drag before carelessly discarding it out the window.

All too quick, he's facing me again, and he leans even closer. I can feel the warmth of his breath on my face. My heart is thumping loudly in my chest, and a part of me thinks he can hear it.

Before I can even blink, he places his fingers on my chin and tilts his head, smashing his lips against mine hard.

Its all teeth at first, clashing messily as his hand leaves my chin and rests as the base of my neck. My hands are on his face, my fingers messing with the curls at the back of his neck while he grins against my lips.

He lightly bites my bottom lip, taking the opportunity to slide his tongue into my mouth. He tastes like cherry and camels, and I feel myself whimpering at the contact.

"Fuck," he mumbles into my mouth, and his tone is exasperated, partly because the console between us is making it harder for him to kiss me like he wants to, and partly because his attempts to pull me close enough for our chests to press together have been unsuccessful.

His hands reach down to tug at the belt loops of my shorts, trying to pull me onto his lap. I pull away for a second to push myself over the console, Chris's grip on my hips staying firm to assist me. I duck to avoid hitting my head on the roof of the car, and Chris giggles lowly.

I finally relax once I'm comfortable in his lap, straddling his legs below me. One of his hands is across my lower half, sliding his hand into my back pocket, and the other rests in the middle of my back, holding me in place.

We're kissing again, and this time it's more lips and tongue then teeth, but he's still lightly tugging at my lip.

I'm tugging at his hair as I push myself closer to his lower abdomen, pressing down, which elicits a groan from him. He pulls away from me, and I try to follow his lips with a whine, but he tugs at the back of my hair lightly so he can press kisses from my jaw down to my neck.

I'm already whimpering as soon as his teeth press against my throat, and he digs them deep, kissing the mark once he's satisfied with the shade of purple its turned before finding a different spot to do the same thing.

"Chris, fuck- please."

I can feel him below me, and it's making me crazy. He doesn't budge, even as I continue to whine breathlessly at him.

He only grins as he continues to nip at my skin, and i felt the smirk on his face against my throat. I tangle my fingers in his hair and tug as a silent plea. "What s' it, baby?"

Baby.

I practically keen at the nickname. He finally pulls away, a string of saliva connecting his lips to his previous spot on my neck. He grins proudly at the marks he's left before looking at me again.

"What d'you want?" his tone is cocky and assertive. His lips look red and bitten, and I start to feel embarrassed at the fact that we were sucking face so lewdly in a literal parking lot.

I want to squirm and writhe away under his gaze, but his knuckle tight grip on me won't let me. I fiddle with the neck of his shirt and avoid looking at him as i whisper, "I need you."

He grins madly. "How d'you need me, sweetheart?"

I lean forward and press my lips back against his, and he entertains for a little before tugging my hair lightly to pull me back. His fingers grip my chin, holding me in place to look at him.

"Tell me what you want."

I brush my hand against his belt buckle. "I wanna suck you off,"

It came out in a mumble, but he understood, nodding somewhat cockily with a shit-eating grin on his lips. A groan left him as he tugged me even closer so our chests were pressed together. "Yeah?"

I nod eagerly, another 'please' ready to escape my mouth as my impatience grows. He ducks his hand between the seat and the door to push it farther back, "On your knees, then."

I obliged immediately, sliding off his lap to rest on my knees below him. My elbows rest on either side of his legs as my hands flew to his belt, unbuckling it and tugging at his jeans and boxers.

He lifted his hips lightly to assist me. I pulled them down until they rested around his ankles, and I feel myself gawk.

He's big. Bigger then I expected.

A nervous feeling bubbles in the pit of my stomach, but the way he's looking down at me through hazy vision makes it vanish even quicker, and I wrap my hands around his length.

"You okay?" He asks, moving his hand to rest on my cheek, his thumb soothingly pressed on my temple.

"No- yeah, i'm good." I breathe. I hover myself over him, finally taking him into my mouth. A string of curses leave him in a hushed breath, and his head moves to rest at the back of my head to coax me farther down.

I pull back slightly, wrapping my lips around his tip and sucking lightly. His chest is rising and falling quickly above me, and his labored breathing is music to my ears.

His cock is heavy on my tongue, and its addicting. I take him farther down my throat, hollowing my cheeks to fit as much of him as i can while my hand is in a fist around his base. I bob my head and twist my hand, looking up at him to see his flushed face as he pants.

"Fuck, you look so pretty like this." He babbles, a throaty moan leaving him when I twist my hand faster, swirling my tongue along his cock as my head rises and falls.

I hum around his dick at the compliment, the slight sting on my scalp from him pulling my hair only pushing me to do more. He pushes me down slightly, and i choke at the burn of his tip making contact with my uvula.

I moan loudly on him at the feeling, tears building in my eyes as the vibration from the noises i'm making cause him to throw his head back, a blissed out expression on his face. "Fuck, so good. Just like that, god."

Drool seeps from the corners of my mouth as I speed up all my movements. Chris is a breathy, moaning mess above me, watching me through lidded eyes as I glance up at him.

He moves his other hand to rest on the side of my face, grinning at my fucked out appearance. "Fucking filthy girl, aren't you, baby." He says through gritted teeth. "You love this, don't you?"

I whine at him, furrowing my eyebrows in pleasure to say "yes', and watching as his eyes roll lightly back in his head when i start to suck lightly at his tip again.

My hand falls from his base to lay on his leg, the other holding the bottom of his shirt in my fist. I try to push my head farther down, whimpering faintly at the stretch.

Chris's hips jerk up lightly at the sensation, causing him to push himself down my throat until my lips hit the base. I start to choke, but I breathe heavily through my nose, screwing my eyes shut and hallowing my cheeks out to stop myself from pulling off.

"Fuck!" he grunts loudly, his grip on my hair turning animalistic. He mindlessly mutters out curses and praise as he pushes my head up and down with his hands, 'good girl', 'don't stop', 'takin' me so good, baby' 'just like that' . . .

My hands are resting completely at his sides as he guides my mouth on his cock, slightly bucking his hips to push himself as far as I can take him. His strokes turn sloppy, and I look up at him again to see him looking at me with a broken glance, bottom lip between his teeth. "Fuck, gonna cum," he gasps.

I begin to swirl my tongue around him, moaning messily on him as if to say, 'in my mouth, please', but he's already reading my mind, digging his nails into my scalp as he spurts coats of white down my throat, an incoherent string of "fuck fuck fuck"'s spilling out of him. Im swallowing as quickly as i can.

I pull off of him with a lewd pop, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. I know i look completely ruined, but I'm still focused on catching my breath and looking at Chris's flushed pink face above me.

His hand rests on my face again, and his thumb soothingly rubs my cheek. "You okay? Was that too much?" he asks, his expression full of concern as he wipes the tears from under my eyes.

I smile, leaning into his touch. "I'm good, it was really good."

He nods, smiling dumbly. "Good."

He pulls his jeans and boxers back up, bucking his belt before pulling me off my knees and back onto his lap. He presses a soft, passionate kiss on my lips, and then trails kisses down the side of my face, pulling my hair back off my shoulders as we both catch our breath.

We're both startled by the loud ringing of my phone in the passenger seat. I reach over the console, sighing in relief when i flip it over and see my dad's name at the top of my screen.

I put the phone up to my ear, watching as Chris rubs circles into my side with his cold fingers.

"Hi," I breath out. I listen as my dad apologizes for not answering earlier. He tells me he heard my voicemail and asks if I'm okay. "M' fine, I just wheeled it to a shop a couple blocks over. I'm on the bus home now, should only be a bit."

Chris pouts at me, and i roll my eyes at him. My dad talks for a couple for seconds before hanging up, and i leave my phone in the drink compartment next to Chris's forgotten lighter.

"D'you need to get home?" He asked. I nodded, and he frowns. "I was gonna get you off in the backseat,"

part two? :)

thank you for reading! reblogs are DEEPLY appreciated. I hope you enjoyed. links below !

about me ! masterlists ! guidelines / info !

[pix-writes]

For the NSFW requests; what kinks do Stan and Ford have? 👀

👀 I've got you, anon 😉

18+ under cut, minors DNI

Stanford:

Edging - likes to experiment with it to see how far he can go, what are the limits of his patience? He's working out his self control like he's stretching out a muscle. And with you as well, how far can you stand to be teased? Knows it's worth it for the intensity of the orgasm(s) when he finally gives you what you both want. Likes the sense of control he gets from it too!

Biting - likes when you bite into him when you get close/overstimulated/want to keep quiet, makes his feral side come out, wants to mark you too as he nips and nibbles at your skin, all over. A darker, protective (*cough* possessive*cough*) part of him enjoys seeing the hickeys and marks he leaves on your skin. Ford has a lot of scars and other unwanted traces on his body (laser tattoo removal can only do so much), so he feels so loved when you leave marks on him.

Temperature/nipple play - warm wax (and ice) on his body gives a contrast of overstimulating sensations that feels nice to him, have no idea of how or when/if he finds this out though, perhaps it's a way for him to feel light pain in a good way? Likes when you pay attention to his nipples too as they're sensitive.

Clothed sex/dry humping - (kind of goes with the kink below) actually really turned on by dry humping, gets incredibly flustered even though neither of you have taken anything off yet.

Tights - idk why it just seems right to me. Ford loves how the fabric feels and how it smooths over your skin. Maybe he's always been attracted to how they look on people in the past, but it's not until you are grinding against him fully clothed that it really awakens! The silky feeling of your tights on his cock, the thin layer between him and your heat has him staining them with his pre cum. (EDIT: tights aka pantyhose or stockings, I always forget Americans have a different name for them sorry)

Praise - will praise you a lot but he likes it back the other way, I hc Ford is a perfect switch, so whether he's taking the lead or not likes to know he's doing well, has been starved of affection for so long so praise helps him to know he's doing good.

Stanley:

Restraints - here's the thing, Stan's been put in cuffs enough times to hate it, but he's also quite adept at getting out of them (as long as it's a situation where he can of course), he figures that he wouldn't hate it as much if his pretty partner is the one to do it to him 😏 ya know? Though most of the time, it makes him feel a bit too helpless/claustrophobic, but he'll tie you up or put you in cuffs any time (he always has them nearby), gets him going because he gets to tease the hell out of you and you can't do anything about it! (I have a hunch that he's a teensy bit of a brat tamer) Spanking is another he likes too, in theory more than practice, because he may be game for a lot of things but doesn't want to hurt you, feels conflicted about it. Kind of loves it when you give him a firm slap to his behind, as long as he knows you're going to do it (he's hypervigilant), likes when you say nice things about his ass.

Primal play - doesn't know that it's called that but there's something in the playfulness of chasing each other around the house etc., that does it for him in a more serious way, likes to chase you more, though doesn't mind if he's the one on top or bottom, sometimes is nice when his partner is doing the work and he gets to lay back and enjoy the view.

Sir and begging- likes to be called sir (the fact that Alex said this on a stream is WILD, joking or not, and it's been burnt into my brain ever since!), never been really seen as a figure of respect and melts his brain a little to be treated reverently, likes when you beg it's basically praise for him for pleasuring you so well

Marking - likes to mark you but loves it even more if you leave some on him, he'll keep it there for others to see, he's a taken man now 🥴 - that's his expression after you've kissed him and left him with lipstick all over his face

Painted nails - doesn't have to be those fake nails really, he just likes to see them with some colour on them, thinks it's attractive, the way they look when you're placing your hands all over him and maybe scratching across his chest?

[multi-fandom-imagine]

𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐬 ||Stanley Pines||

A/n: Stan would be an amazing father, and him being a girl dad! Just 👏

Request: found here

Plot:

So, like Stanley Pines is a girldad, we know that (he and Mabel are so🥺) and have twin girls. The dude starts to bawl his eyes out when he finds out when you tell him you are pregnant.

Even more when he finds out you are having girls

Bonus if they have inherited the sixth finger from Uncle Ford(as soon as he has his little nieces on his arms, he won't let his brothers take the girls from his arms)

"Ford, give me back my daughters!"

"I need to check if they are alright!"

Stan knew he must have hit the jackpot when he met you, after years of failed relationships the man had honestly given up of even dating.

And then his brother pulled your car off the road. It could have been a fling, sure he liked you. You were a beautiful woman, you were kind to Mabel and Dipper. To be honest, he couldn't help but feel his heart race a bit fast when he saw your interactions with the 13 year olds.

Sure it was painful knowing you were leaving, you did spend weeks with him.

But you didn't...when it came time for you to leave, for you to just pack your things and go instead you stated and he couldn't have been more happier because while he may not believed it back then, he had found his soulmate.

Maybe he actually owed Edna an apology for her saying it would happen one day.

Though this....this was even better. If he was being honest, this was a better feeling than when Ford stepped through that portal.

"You're what?" His voice croaked, he swallowed thickly.

"Pregnant." You gave him a weak smile, you didn't know how to tell him, part of you scared not knowing how he would even react to this sort of news.

Stan's eyes went wide, his heart nearly coming to a stop. 'Pregnant'

He stared down at you for a long while, trying to get his thoughts in order. After a few moments, Stan pulled you even closer against his chest, his arms wrapping around you. His eyes closing for a moment as he buried his nose into your neck.

"How...how long have you known for?" His voice was soft, a mixture of panic and excitement in his tone.

Blinking a few times, shocked at his reaction you looked up at him the best you could. "A...a few days...I wanted to make sure..wait...you...you're not upset?"

Stan could only chuckle. 'Upset? He was ecstatic!'

"Why in the world would I be upset? You're kidding, right? Dollface, you're gonna have my baby. I'm the luckiest man alive."

He leaned down and pressed several soft kisses against your head. Then gave you a smile as he let his finger glided across his cheek though his eyes then went wide as he stepped back looking you over making sure you were okay.

"I didn't hurt ya did I?"

Letting out a snort, you gave him a grin placing your hand on his cheeks. "No you didn't hurt me Stan, I'm fine...I'm wonderful actually." You muttered resting your head against his chest as the man slowly wrapped around your body.

"I'm feelin wonderful too sweetheart....I'm the happiest man alive right now." Blinking back some tears, he smiled as he placed a kiss to the top of your head.

Months passed and Stan did his best to help you out with all your needs. Ford helping his brother and you move into a house near by knowing it would be safer for you and the child.

But it was one ultrasound that had the man bursting into tears. His eyes glued to the screen as the Obstetrician applied the jell to your belly. He felt your hand holding his but it still did not feel real, especially when the woman informed him that he was not only having twins, but twin girls.

"I'm not cryin! You can't prove nothin!"

Grinning you tucked your phone away as you tugged the dress down. "The video I have saved on my phone say's other wise." Shaking your head you took a deep breath in placing a hand on your belly, the sonogram photos securely in Stan's wallet. "Now let's go home...I am tired." It would explain the excessive kicking you've felt.

Sniffling, Stan cleared out his throat then brushed his tears away as he placed his hand on your belly doing his best to sooth you. "You two hear that...your mother is tired so let her rest."

Smiling, you let your fingers run through Stan's hair, the man leaning into your touch. "They love your voice Stan."

Still holding your hips, he gave you a watery smile as small tears ran down his cheeks. "Thank you."

It was a hard birth, but Stan never left your side. The man letting you hold his hand, squeeze it whenever you were in pain. Him often telling you jokes to make you laugh, or stories of him and Ford, the things the saw, things about his childhood then soon his little girls were in his arms. "Ha can you believe it...six fingers...just like your Uncle Ford."

Relaxing into the hospital bed, a weak chuckle escaped your lips as you let your gaze focused on Stan. It was an adorable sight, to see someone who held his emotions in to break down from just holding two infants. "They're gonna be daddy's little girls aren't they?"

You can see he held so much love for them, that he would do anything for them.

Shaking his head for a moment, Stan blinked away his tears as he slipped his glasses off due to them fogging up. "Damn right they will be. Nothin will be out of their reach..." he wouldn't hold them back, he wouldn't scream or yell at him, he wouldn't kick them out for a little mistake.

He wouldn't be like his father...he will be better.

"....hehe...I can't wait to show em off to everyone. Mabel said she made em little hats...gonna be adorable."

He muttered looking down at the twins asleep in his arms until his gaze landed on you. "Get some sleep beautiful...I got em."

Stan knew everyone wanted to see the twins and while he let the people he trusted take a look at them he refused to let anyone hold them that was not him or you. Oh no they will have to wait until his precious beans were older.

"Just let me hold them Stanley...it's been a month." Ford glanced at his brother rolling his eyes. "You're being a baby hog."

Scowling, Stan glanced at you. Giving him a smile you nodded your head. "Just...be careful." He muttered reluctantly.

Once in his arms, Ford smiled down at his nieces as he then spotted their six tiny fingers. "How adorable....I will protect you both with my life...you will not be bullied like me."

Shifting his weight from one foot to another, Stan then cleared out his throat. "Alright give'em back Ford."

"I think not! I would like to spend time with my nieces Stanley." Turning his back, the man powered walk away.

"Stanford! Give me back my daughters!"

"I need to check if they are alright!"

"What! Ford! Get your ass back here!"

Sighing, a smile tugged at your lips as you watched Stan chase after your brother. Shaking your head you sat down in the plush chair closing your eyes. It was good to be home.

[wisteriaiswriting]

Reader That Can Bake

Words: 1757

Includes: Dipper, Mabel, Stan, Ford, Wendy, Gideon, Pacifica and Bill

Honestly, he doesn’t have the biggest sweet tooth, but being young he still craves them a bit.

Knows the basics about baking in general but only with box sets, so he’ll stay out of your way in the kitchen.

Won't ever decline anything you give him, opting to either eat them right then and there, or hide them for later. (And away, safe from Mabel.)

Normally whenever he heard the sounds of someone in the kitchen, assuming it was Mabel, he would walk the other way immediately. But now that you’re spending more time in there he’ll take the gamble of peeking in, hoping it was you baking and not Mabel ready to drag him in.

This time he was lucky, finding you washing up all your used dishes and putting away the leftover ingredients. Standing in the doorway until you noticed, waving him over. “Dipper, you’re just in time!” Hopping on the spot as you stepped out of the way, revealing a whole bunch of cooled cookies.

“I tried some different flavours this time,” Grabbing one of each to shove into his hands, which he almost dropped. “There's classic chocolate chip, white chocolate, uhh… What else?” As you rambled and thought he took a bite of each, silently ranking them favourite to least favourite, not that he’d ever tell you.

“And oh! Hazelnuts, oreos and s'mores!” “You made s’more cookies?” “Yeah, this one was a small batch, I’ll get more stuff tomorrow.”

While yes, she bakes pretty often, you’ll always be the better chef around! (And she’s not afraid to admit it, sometimes.)

This girl will never shut up about ‘How good these are!’ ‘Even Waddles loves them!’ (It’s true, you have found him scarfing down a whole pile of your baked goods.)

Occasionally (And if you let her) she’ll join you, while she enjoys baking just spending time together is enough for her.

As soon as the door opened Mabel ran off, skidding into the doorframe. Smelling something very familiar and delicious. “ARE YOU BAKING AGAIN!” Your only response was to laugh, of course she would notice, really, you’d be an idiot thinking she wouldn’t.

“Yeah, they’re in the oven right now, so I’m just cleaning up.” “I’LL HELP!” God, she was excited about your baking. “Why don’t you pile up the dirty dishes while I start the sink.” In no time you had finished the dishes, everything was clean, dried and put away.

Reaching for a hanging cabinet, but this one was just out of reach. Stretching to your limit but unable to grasp the handle, about to turn around and ask Mabel for help only to be jolted upwards. Looking down to find Mabel's toothy grin looking right back atcha.

“Whatcha grabbing? More dishes? Decorations? Is it the icing? SPRINKLES!?” Laughing once again as you grabbed, as you could guess (And Mabel.) the icing and sprinkles. Being dropped back down when you had the items. “I think they’re ready for the toppings.”

Stan doesn’t go around flaunting his love for baked goods, but he doesn’t really hide it either.

But he does openly compliment anything you make, even if it’s not his favourite, he’ll make it positive.

He may not like to spend a lot of money on anything really, but he’ll throw you a wad of cash to buy whatever you need. (As long as he gets the first taste test.)

“Where ya going toots?” Arms wrapped around your waist, his head sitting on your head. One of your hands held your car keys, well, they were Stans but he’s given you permission to take the ‘Stanmobile’ out. “Gotta buy some more ingredients.”

His body pulled away from yours, hands digging into his suit pockets before pulling out a decent wad of cash. Grabbing a few notes (Which were 100s btw) and passing them over to you, “Make me my favourite later.” “Oh I will~”

He’ll scarf down plates full of your stuff, he hasn’t eaten anything this good in years! (And no he is not exaggerating, thank you!)

Always takes something with him on every adventure he goes on. (At first he was nervous to ask, but now he’ll try to ‘bribe’ you for anything. (Both of you know he doesn’t need to.))

Part of him is curious about how well supernatural ingredients would go, he would never force you to do it, but that means he would. So at least watch over him. (But by gods, don’t let him eat anything he makes. Who knows what would happen, and you don’t want to know.)

Hearing the front door slam open you peeked out of the living room, only to find Ford stumbling by, into the kitchen with a large box. After gently shutting the door (With this amount of abuse you don’t think it’ll last much longer.) you followed him, watching him pull and lay out plenty of things on the counter.

“Hope you were going to clean up after yourself?” “AH!” Throwing something between his hands for a few seconds before calming down, “Oh! Y/N, I was, don't you worry.” “With everything you brought in here? I will.”

Quietly laughing to himself, “I don’t blame you, but how well would these bake?” “Ford, honey, I just bake, you’re the one who knows about these guys.” Gesturing to the box, “I guess you’re right.”

Very similar to Stan in the sense, she won’t go out of her way to admit her love for sweeter things but will if asked.

If you’re willing to make more she’ll take a bunch for her friends. (They all love them, even if some won’t admit it.)

Brings some to work with her, which makes her shifts actually bearable.

“I’ll see you guys later.” Lifting her hand as a quick wave before turning to leave, “Wendy!” Looking back to find Lee rushing towards her, skidding to stop just before hitting her. Throwing her a now empty container, which surprisingly enough, was still in one piece. “You gotta bring more of those snacks, they were amazing!”

“I’ll let them know.” Now that she was finally able to leave the group, she started her tract home. Pulling out her phone to send you a quick message, nothing much really. (It was a whole paragraph.) Watching you respond, pause then send the message, along with a picture. ‘Already ahead of you!’

Tapping into the image to find you back in the kitchen, flour covered every surface. There were other ingredients on the floor and everything, really. She couldn’t stop her laughter, taking a pause in her steps to catch her breath. ‘I’m on my way, don’t make a bigger mess.’

Luckily she wasn’t that far from home, and it was also a good thing that her family loved you. (They wouldn’t let you live down that image.) Letting her spend the night to help you clean and finish baking.

Absolutely will not go anywhere near the kitchen when you’re in there. (He may love you, but he also loves being clean.)

This doesn’t stop him from rushing in the second everything is cleaned up, impatiently waiting until the food is finished. (You will have to stop him from eating them hot, because he will whine about being burned.)

Will never share them with anyone else, the only exception is at the Tent of Telepathy.

Placing the hot tray onto a cooling rack before shutting the oven door, it’s been hours since you started baking. As Gideon wanted some baked goods to hand out to anyone who comes by the Tent of Telepathy, and that meant you had to bake it all.

Although he made sure to pay you for it, so it wasn’t a complete loss. But that's when you heard a door slam open and footsteps running down the hall, watching as Gideon entered the room. His first stop was the currently cooling tray of cookies, not the others that were cool and in containers.

“Gideon do–” It was too late, his hand touched the tray first. “OW!” Guiding the hand under some running water as he complained, “Why were they hot?” “I just pulled them out from the oven, those ones,” Pointing at multiple containers put to the side, “Are for you.”

Huffing as he removes his hand from the water to dry it off, grabbing the containers before leaving the room.

Honestly, she never thought about baking in general really. (There’s always been butlers or chefs, or whatever to do it for her.)

Doesn’t have the biggest sweet tooth, but will eat any of your less sweet items. (It better not be messy, otherwise she’ll (lovingly) wipe it on you.)

Sometimes she’ll sit around and watch you bake, she secretly finds it interesting but it’s highly likely she won’t join you for a while.

“What did you make this time?” Even as her face showed disinterest her tone gave her away, “This one is funfetti!” Handing over the cupcake, watching as she made her way through the wrapper. Trying to avoid the icing, although she wasn’t successful, a small chunk smeared over her fingers.

Clearly unhappy with it, the fact you were waiting next to her and no tissues or anything nearby. Reaching over to ‘subtly’ wipe the icing onto your shirt. “HEY!” “These aren’t that bad.” “Don’t ignore me!” You tried to stand in front of her, except that she kept turning as well.

“Pacifica!” “You should probably check on the other ones.” Oh yeah, you probably should.

Sometimes you forget that he can actually eat as he doesn’t do it much. (That’s until you watch him eat some deer teeth. Which is so disturbing…)

There have been so many times where he comes to bother you for some food, then just leaves with it. (You have no clue what he does with them but you can only assume someone else* is eatting them. (*Ford))

He will try to bake on his own with ‘non-human’ ingredients even if you try to stop him. (They end up inedible, even to other demons. Like fuck, he’s terrible.)

It was fucking comical how Bill entered the room, floating through the window towards the tray of cookies. Staying afloat for a few extra seconds before dropping to sit on the counter, batting his eyelashes at you. “No Bill, they’re still hot.” “WHO CARES?” Grabbing a handful (Which was like 2.) before shoving it into his mouth (Eye? Honestly man, you have no idea anymore.). “Are they good at least?” “HMM, THEY'RE ALRIGHT. COULD DO WITH SOME ꀤꈤꁅꌃꀭꀸꈤꍟꊼ.” “What.”

[ghostofhyuck]

Deja Vu

It’s been months since you two broke up and Jeno got a new girl now. She’s pretty, nice, and exactly his ideal type. And yet, the ghost of you still lingers, maybe because Jeno brings her to the places you two used to go. 

Deja vu? Maybe. Or it’s just Jeno’s not over you. 

Word count: 2.2k

Tags: angst, fluff, ex to lovers (?) cheating if you squint really REALLY hard.

Song inspiration: Deja Vu by Olivia Rodrigo

AN: TDS3 D3 Jeno went topless and it was a sign for me to finish this fic. 

Also this is part two of this fic. Read it so that you can have more context, but this can still serve as a stand-alone. 

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

“So, where is this ride going?” you asked. 

“If I told you, it’ll ruin the surprise,” Jeno replied. A smile plastered on his lips as he took a quick glance at you before focusing on the road. 

It was five in the afternoon. The sun’s slowly setting, and the sky’s painted in its godly gold. It’s bright and warm, as the sun’s shine passed through the window of Jeno’s Ford Mustang. You just finished your last exam for the semester. After nights of cramming and chugging down coffee, you’re finally free from the semester. Vacation is just around the corner, and what’s the perfect thing to celebrate the end of semester other than celebrating it with your boyfriend?

You watched as Jeno drove smoothly across town, going down the coastal area where the sunset’s more pleasing to watch. You slide across the bridge and the next thing you know, the sun’s following you through the long bay of your town’s beach. 

Jeno knows how much you love the beach. It’s a safe place for you where you can get away from your university. So you two just usually hangout around the coast. 

Your boyfriend parks the car near the baywalk. He quickly turns off the engine, and just like the usual thing he does, he leaves the car first and opens your car for you. 

“You don’t always have to do this, you know that?” 

“But I want to,” he said casually just like the way his arms wrapped around your shoulders immediately, pulling you closer to him. You only smile as he gives you a small kiss on the head. 

“So, where are you taking me?” you asked once again. 

Jeno only hums as he stops, that’s when your eyes widen at the shop in front of you. 

“No way!” you shouted. 

“They just opened yesterday, so why not celebrate with a cup of yoghurt?” Jeno smiled. 

“Oh my god, I’ve been craving for it for so long!” you shouted. 

Jeno only smiles, internally patting himself good job. He knows everything about you, and he knows how lately you’ve been obsessed with yoghurt. Whether it be a drink or served in a cup, you’ll love it somehow.

“Did I ever tell you that I love you?” you asked your boyfriend who only lets out a chuckle before stealing a kiss on you. 

“I love you too bub, now come on, it’s a do-it-yourself, so get as many toppings as you want.”

When you entered the shop, you immediately separated from your boyfriend, eager to have a cup of yoghurt. Jeno watched as you grabbed a large cup before going to the yoghurt machine. He was smiling ear to ear as you moved to the topping and sauce section, picking carefully your toppings because you’re still a picky eater nevertheless. 

Eventually, he joins you as he grabs a medium cup and picks some toppings that suit his taste. After weighing the cup and paying for the dessert, the two of you went out where an al fresco area can be found. You two sat at the corner, digging on the delectable treat that you two are having. 

The sun is setting and you’re halfway on your cup, you could only stare at the sun. feeling overwhelmed but in a good sense. You finally finished your semester and your boyfriend brought you to a yoghurt shop. You couldn’t help but to smile. Things are better and you just feel so lucky to be here right now. 

“Having deep thoughts again?” Jeno asked, knowing that you tend to space out sometimes. 

“No, no deep thoughts,” you told him. “Just happy right now.”

“Oh really?” Jeno teases, “can I ask why?”

You only smiled, “of course because school’s over, and I have my handsome boyfriend treat me my favorite dessert at the moment.”

Jeno only smiled, gazing at you lovingly. He wonders if days are going to be like this. He likes this life of his. In this town where it’s just you and him, in a small yoghurt shop, with the sun setting on the background. 

And as Jeno stares at you, he couldn’t help but be in awe. Thinking how lucky he is to have a girlfriend like you. 

Your attention shifted to him, making him stare at you even more lovingly.

“Jeno,” you called out. 

“What?” 

“You’re spacing out,”

“What makes you think of that, yn?” 

“Yn?”

Jeno’s eyes widened. 

“Who’s yn?” 

The girl in front of him is not you. Her hair is in a different shade, falling along her shoulders, unlike yours who you usually tie in a messy ponytail whenever you’re eating something. She’s pretty, definitely pretty that it can make anyone turn their head. 

They stared at each other for a minute. That’s when Jeno realised that your name slipped onto his lips. 

Fuck. He thought. That’s when he remembered. It’s been months ever since you two broke up. Months after that night that was full of frustrations and arguments. Jeno barely recalled what you two argued about but he knew that you were crying and instead of comforting you, he stormed out of your place.

You two didn’t break up that night officially, you called it quits over a text three days later. Instead of calling you, Jeno lets it be. Thinking that you two were just never meant to be. 

Unlike you, Jeno found it easy to get over you. He’s a charming guy, so it was quick for him to find another girl that he can love again. 

Or so he thought. Because as he stared at the girl in front of him, he couldn’t believe that he called her by your name. 

“Nothing, it’s nothing, sorry,” he quickly apologised. Shifting his attention to the melted yoghurt on his cup. 

Maybe it was his fault. For bringing her to the places you two went. Jeno knows that there are a lot of places where he can bring her, but why does he always end up in the coastal area? On a particular yoghurt shop that you love? 

Jeno couldn’t help but to question it. He thought that he’s over you but it seems like the ghost of you still keeps on haunting him. 

You who’s always cheery. You who always have a certain sweet treat every semester. You who loves bringing your polaroid camera and taking photos of the people you hang out with. 

You, who was there for Jeno. Who loved him despite his flaws and even though he is lacking in some parts, you ignored it and loved him nevertheless.

He wasn’t perfect, but you weren’t looking for a perfect boyfriend. You love Lee Jeno no matter what. And you always say that to him. 

“Hey Jen, I’m done here, should we get going now?” Jeno snapped out once again when she spoke out again. 

He stares at his yoghurt. It’s all melted and doesn’t look appetising at all. He then glances at the sun and it’s barely touching the sea. If it was you who’s with him, you two will wait until the sun sets and set out when the stars are in the sky. 

But you’re not with him anymore, and he’s with a new girl. Who’s pretty, who’s nice, and is exactly his ideal type. Jeno had accepted it, after all. It’s not only him who’s moving on. He knows that Mark Lee’s making a move on you. He watched as you laughed with him over a cup of coffee a few weeks earlier. 

So it seems like you two are moving on. Good for you. He thought. You deserve someone better than him. While he knows that there are no other girls that can surpass you, Jeno hopes that at least for his side, he can be a better man for his new girl. 

The ride home was nothing but an awkward tense. Jeno keeps on glancing at her, who’s too busy on her phone. If it was you, your eyes would linger on the view outside — even though you’ve grown up in this area, you always love staring at the view. But at some time, you’ll shift your gaze at Jeno, who’ll reciprocate your giggles with a soft chuckle. His free hand lacing around your fingers, never letting you go until you reached your place.

“Watch out!” and luckily, Jeno stepped on the brake quickly. His eyes staring at the dog that just passed by. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t —” 

“No, of course not! The dog suddenly jumped out of nowhere,” she said in a soft tone, smiling as she pats Jeno’s shoulders. “You prevented it too, and there’s no accident that happened, so it’s okay.”

Jeno could only let out a sigh. Somehow, he feels like blaming himself because of the incident, if it wasn’t him thinking about you, then maybe he’ll be more concentrated on his drive. He tried to focus on the road, but you’re in his mind no matter how hard he tries to shake the thought of you. 

He didn’t notice that he just reached her place. It was as if he was driving out of instincts. 

“Thanks for dropping me off,” she said, smiling. 

“No worries,” Jeno only said, and before she left, she gave Jeno a soft kiss on the cheeks. Jeno watches as she gets out of the car, walks through her apartment and closes the door. 

But Jeno couldn’t move from his seat. He doesn’t know what to do. Frustrated, Jeno lets out a sigh as he rests his head on the headboard. He doesn’t want to fuck up. He already ruined your relationship, he couldn’t bear to ruin another one too. 

“I’m so stupid,” Jeno whispered. He opens his eyes and looks at the road. He knows that deep inside, he’s not yet ready to enter another relationship. It’s too soon. 

Not when you spent three years together, and broke up abruptly. Throwing everything you two had. Never had a decent closure or even a proper apology from each other because of what happened that night. No. The only thing Jeno wants more is to find closure from you, and perhaps, in the better light, 

you two can finally move on and find someone better. 

Jeno knows that partly, it’s his fault that things went downhill. So it's up to him to fix everything. He turned on the engine, and without any hesitation, drove to a familiar route that he memorised by heart. It was a gamble, but Jeno was willing to see the outcome of his indecisive decisions. 

As he reached your place, Jeno didn’t hesitate to turn off his engine, leaving his car as soon as possible. 

He walks towards your apartment, a sense of familiarity welcomed him. It felt like home and Jeno tries to brush off that feeling — that odd sense of missing a place that has been a home for him for years. 

Jeno stops in front of your door. He lets out a deep sigh before knocking on the door. For a minute, no one answered.

He knocks once more. Two, three, four loud knocks, in hopes that it can be enough for you to open the door. 

But within a minute, no one answered. Jeno took it as a sign. That maybe closure isn’t for you two. Jeno tried to ease his beating heart — he didn’t even notice that it had been beating abnormally ever since he arrived at your place. 

So he turned his heels around, walking a few steps when he heard the door open. 

“Jeno? What are you doing here?” 

As he turned around, Jeno was shunned. 

There you are, with your hair in a mess, wearing your favourite cinnamoroll-patterned pajamas. He saw how your round eyes became wider as he made eye contact with you — both yearning for something. 

“I…I —” Jeno decided to go near you. “I just, want to ask you how you have been.” 

That was stupid. That was so fucking stupid. Jeno’s mind was barely functioning when those words slipped out of his mouth. 

But you didn’t take it into something. You were just surprised. Jeno’s in front of you. The sense of familiarity to the man in front of you is still there. His scent, presence, and the feelings you had for him. It’s all still there. 

And you don’t know why, but maybe you just wanted to see if he still loves you. 

Because instead of answering him, you grabbed him by the neck and smashed your lips onto his. 

But in a quick second, you realised that what you did was stupid. You broke out of the kiss, and yet your hand remains on his. 

Jeno’s gaze shifted from a surprised one to something more familiar. Lovingly. You knew that stare, you’ve always loved that stare of his. You know that because you’re the only one who he gave that gaze with. 

And the next thing you knew, his lips crashed onto yours. You couldn’t help but to kiss him back with more intensity. His arms instinctively hold your waist as you attempt to balance yourself. He pushes you backward, making you two enter your apartment without breaking the kiss.

[tinytalkingtina]

Cool Whip

Rating M | WC 1330 | Ao3 link

Tags: getting together, first kiss, innuendo, bisexual steve and eddie, eddie speed-runs a sexuality crisis, inappropriate use of whipped cream, fast burn (these two have never gone slow in their lives), fade to black

Written for the STWG July 28 prompt "Oh. Oh."

Steve stared at Eddie in complete silence.

Eddie fidgeted under his gaze. “So. Perhaps. In this instance, giving into the gremlin that lives inside my head was not the best choice I could have made,” he said sheepishly.

“Really Edward. You don’t say.” Steve was still holding the incriminating weapon, had been since he confiscated it. Every so often he twirled it around in his hands.

“What if you uhhh, did it back to me? We’ll be even?” he offered. “Come on, it’s fine, I won’t even fight you on it!”

“Can’t do that because we’re at my house, not yours, and this was my last pair of clean pants and underwear. So, unless you want to walk around like Winnie the fucking Pooh for the rest of the night, maybe we don’t spray whipped cream down your jeans too.” 

Steve ran an agitated hand through his hair. “I’m going to go take a shower and wash this shit off of my junk now, ‘kay? Just put the ice cream back in the freezer, we can do a movie night together another time, I guess.” Disappointment was written all over his face. Oops, Eddie didn't realize how much he must have been looking forward to watching Raiders of the Lost Ark. 

As Steve turned around to go, Eddie knew he should let him. Unfortunately, Nosnum Eidde, the impulsive gremlin living in his brain, was still firmly in control.

“Wait, let’s not waste it. Let me clean you up!” He blurted out.

What?

“What?” Steve was staring again, this time with eyes wide in confusion.

“Let me…clean up the mess I made. On your body.”

“Eddie I really can’t tell if you’re joking or not.”

It did sound like a joke didn’t it. But if it was a joke, why was the thought sending sparks of lighting along his spine. 

“I don’t. Don’t think I’m joking right now,” Eddie said slowly. “Give me a minute here.”

It wasn’t like his brain had a perfect track record when it let Nosnum have the wheel. Like those times it had told him that he could climb the tallest tree in the trailer park without getting stuck at the top, or point out how hypocritical O’Donnell was acting during class without getting detention. 

But it had also gotten things right on occasion. And with Steve standing so close, it was busy pointing out things Eddie hadn't thought about before: like for example, when Steve chewed on his lips in agitation, they became invitingly plump. And, despite the growing damp spot on the front, those jeans were still hugging Steve's ass perfectly. 

Perhaps most importantly, he wasn't rushing forward to punch Eddie's lights out for insinuating, well. He just stood there with a faint blush coloring his cheeks. In his house, a place currently unoccupied by anyone else, not even Robin. While wearing a shirt that was just on the wrong side of too tight with his hair coiffed for a night out and oh my G-d—

“Steve…was tonight supposed to be a date?” Eddie was shocked the question fell out of his mouth so steadily.

The blush on Steve's face grew darker. “I mean, sort of? Was getting mixed signals from you but—yeah.” He shrugged. “We haven’t been able to hang out one on one since I figured things out. Thought I’d see how tonight went before making a move.”

“Oh. You. You had a plan to seduce me.” Eddie wheezed a little. "You like me like that?"

“I uh, kind of put two and two together about a month ago. Had a really long talk with Robin, and turns out apparently normal men don't want to, you know, make out with their guy friends. Or imagine Harrison Ford holding a whip when he’s all sweaty and—wait, what about you, Mr. 'Propositioning My Friends To Use My Mouth?’ How long have you known?"

“About five minutes consciously.” Eddie said in a strangled voice. “Maybe ten if we consider what I did to your pants subliminal foreplay.”

Steve snorted. The gremlin in Eddie’s brain was convinced this made him even more attractive. Huh, maybe this had been going on for longer than he had realized, if a snort could set him off.

“Not really sure what submarines have to do with Cool Whip, but yeah we can probably count that. Welcome to the ‘part gay’ club man! You’re taking this really well, no offense.” Steve pat him on the back, the brief contact sending more sparks through his veins.

“Yeah, in 1985 I’d probably be doing something destructive right about now.” Eddie agreed. “But the me of 1987 can’t really muster up the energy for another panic attack after finding out about inter-dimensional portals or. You know. Everything else that happened.” Wow, real smooth Eddie, way to kill the mood of whatever fever dream was happening right now.

“Besides,” he tried for a joke. “1987 Eddie has a high school diploma. My brain’s so full of facts there’s no more room for anything else unless we shove it into my mouth and—“ His eyes widened as he caught up with what he was saying. He ducked to hide behind his hair. “Uh, what I mean was, um. Yeah I’ve got nothing to say for that.”

Steve gave another adorable snort and walked closer. “We may have to work our way up to that one, but maybe I could give your mouth something else to put its lips around instead?”

“Dude that doesn’t even—what, do you want me to vacuum seal your mouth with mine? How would we, wait, please tell me that isn’t the secret move you pulled that had all the cheerleaders in school losing their minds over?” Eddie squeaked out.

Steve blushed again even as he laughed. “First of all I only ever actually dated like, three people in high school, I wasn’t as big a slut as rumors made me out to be. And okay that might have sounded better in my head, but in my defense I kind of can’t think of anything but kissing you right now.”

Eddie rapidly nodded his head. “Yes, that’s. We should do that. Please.” After a slight roadblock in which both of them on autopilot tried to take the lead and grab the other’s face, they finally managed to actually press their lips against each other.

And oh. Oh. 

Look, this was far from Eddie’s first kiss. But this was the first time someone still wanted to kiss after seeing him eat eggs with maple syrup on them. Or who knew he secretly slept with his childhood stuffed animal. Because Steve wasn’t angling to get cheaper weed, or trying to get back at his parents by having Eddie knock on the door in his ripped jeans for a date.

Steve knew Eddie’s whole sordid history, and kissed him anyway, holy shit.

The kiss itself was short and relatively chaste. But after they stopped, Steve didn’t immediately lean out of Eddie’s space. Instead he gave the tip of Eddie’s nose a quick peck before resting their foreheads together. A giggle bubbled up out of Eddie’s chest.

Steve rapped his knuckles on Eddie’s head. “Everything okay up there?”

“You like me. Steeeeve Harringtonnn likes me!” Steve smiled softly at him as he cupped Eddie’s cheek in his palm.

“Yeah, I do, you big dork. And I’d love to continue this, but because someone sprayed whipped cream onto my junk, I need to go shower it off before it gets even crunchier because wow, this is uncomfortable.”

Now it was Eddie’s turn to blush. “Sorry about that again. But if you want maybe uh, maybe I could join you and actually help clean it off?”

Steve smirked. “I think we can work something out, yeah. Come on.”

Running up the stairs while Steve tightly held his hand, Eddie decided that perhaps this time, his brain might have had the right idea after all.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Later that evening:

Eddie: "Wait, I was flirting with you the entire Spring Break from hell wasn't I."

Steve: "That was point #1 on Robin's 'Eddie is into you' list."

Eddie: "In hindsight this does explain why she kept saying I could be myself around her last week. I used the opportunity to give her a 2 hour long intro to metal music lesson."

Steve: "Yeah, she said I still owe her for that."

@augustjustice @stellarspecter Come get your fast burn Steddie!

[zigrethsnotebook]

Bite marks 2

Ford x Reader

words: 1,046

tags: nsfw, making that man whimper, more biting

a/n: part 1; this was supposed to go a very different way but this is what they wanted to do, i'm just here to write things down

You had arrived in his bedroom. Ford had insisted on not putting you down, he wanted to carry you and you didn’t object. When you thought he carried big pieces of metal with ease before, you now knew that he wasn't pretending just to look hot. He carried you like you weighed nothing (which was certainly not the case) and without breaking a sweat.

With your arms tightly around his neck and his hands on your ass and back he had sneaked around the shack, avoiding Stanley. The kids were out for the day, so you didn’t need to worry about them.

Ford made sure to lock the door behind him before he gently laid you on the bed, climbing on top of you. You laced one of your hands in his hair again, the other rested on his bicep.

He immediately went for your neck again. At the same time he moved the leg he had placed between yours upwards, kneading your core through the fabric. You exhaled audibly, not quite finding your voice. Ford smiled into your neck. "Use your words, darling." He sucked at your neck, his knee never halting in its movement. There were no words to use, all that left your mouth was a satisfied moan.

Ford hummed into your neck before pulling away, removing his knee in the process. You took the opportunity and pulled him downward by his arm while lifting yourself off the mattress, switching positions. You smirked down at his surprised face.

You moved to straddle him properly, sitting down on his crotch, causing Ford to hiss and his hands to shoot for your hip. You could feel his erection through your pants, making you bite your lip in anticipation. Moving your hips in slow circles you let your hands explore his torso. Ford groaned and leaned his head back.

"Good boy," you encouraged, "let yourself enjoy this." The strained expression on his face let you know that he was really trying to keep it together. With a smile on your face you let your hands roam over his stomach, his chest. You traced the scars and lines of his tattoos all while never stopping the movement of your hips.

Finally, you leaned down, placing a soft kiss to his chest. To Ford it felt like a water droplet on a hot stove, evaporating instantly. He needed more. "Please." His voice was small, begging you.

You placed another kiss on his chest. And another. Your lips didn’t even leave his skin, just trailed lazily from one spot to the next. Ford moaned your name. "More... please." You moved your face in front of his and smiled sweetly at him. "Are you sure, Mr. Slow and Tender?"

Ford swallowed thickly and gripped your hip a little tighter, halting your movement and keeping you in place as he bucked up, hitting you in just the right spot. Your eyes rolled back for a moment. "Ahh... Ford, you- ngh." He interrupted you, bucking up again. "Stop."

He stilled, looking into your eyes, pleading to continue. You took a deep breath, collecting yourself. "Good boy." A quiet whimper left his throat at the praise and lack of release. You leaned down, capturing his lips in a breathless kiss. Slowly, you began moving your hips again, immediately earning a needy moan from the man.

You moved your lips to his neck. He lightly rocked his hips upwards again and you sighed against his skin. You found his All Star tattoo and started making out with the little cartoon star.

"Bite me... please." You hummed into his neck. "Are you sure?" Ford nodded and added another breathy "please." How could you deny him when he asked so nicely?

You let your mouth trail to his shoulder again, the other one this time, and pressed a few hot kisses to it. When you opened your mouth you made sure to let him feel your teeth on his skin. He moaned but his voice was whiny. It sounded like music to your ears.

You took some of his skin into your mouth, not quite biting yet, just nibbling on it. Ford's upward thrusts became a little more desperate making it difficult for you to focus. God, this had no right to feel this good.

You opened your mouth again, taking a bigger bite. Ford whimpered as you let your tongue trace his skin, tasting the sweat you were causing him.

You clenched your jaw a little more. He stammered your name, his voice breaking at every vowel. His hip thrusts were erratic now. You groaned into his shoulder letting yourself lose focus for a moment.

One of his movements was too strong, jolting you forward, causing you to accidentally bite down harder, drawing blood. Ford came instantly. He was a loud whimpering mess underneath you, riding out his orgasm while stammering your name and incomprehensible praises.

Your eyes widened as you tasted his blood. That hadn't been your plan! You quickly let go of his shoulder, eyeing the wound as Ford calmed down again. There was a light tear in his skin, nothing major. A scratch really. You sighed in relief and tried to look Ford in the eyes again. His glasses were fully fogged up.

He was still a little breathless but he smiled at you. "Amazing..." You chuckled. Who knew the great Stanford Pines would become undone before his pants even had a chance to.

You lifted yourself off of Ford and laid down next to him, stroking his chest as he caught his breath. "Sorry about your shoulder." He furrowed his brows for a moment. "What about my shoulder?" You propped yourself up on your elbow to look into his face. His glasses were starting to clear again and you locked eyes.

"I bit too hard. You... you're bleeding a little." Ford was surprised. He hadn't even noticed it. "Oh."

You laid back down for now and he relaxed in your arms until he started feeling... sticky. He excused himself to the bathroom to clean up.

You turned on your back and sighed, content. Even though you hadn't gotten your full share this time, you still had plenty new sounds and pictures of your lovely boyfriend to add to your mental library.

[cosmicdahlias]

Take Me Under

a ford x reader fic

MINORS DNI

Bill knows Ford likes you and makes him drug you while possessed. After a short internal struggle of morals, he decides to take advantage of you.

warnings: NONCON, drugging, somnophilia, oral, smut

so this is a spiritual successor to my last fic, it’s not a continuation but the themes are similar

It was a warm summer night in Gravity Falls. The crickets chirped as you sat out on the porch with your research partner, Stanford Pines. You nursed your glass of whiskey that Ford had poured for you. It had been a long night of research, Ford was trying to build an interdimensional gateway, stuff you would’ve thought five years ago only existed in science fiction, but he really was a genius.

His other partner had already gone home for the night, Fiddleford. He was a good guy, but you were kind of happy he had left already. You liked him just fine but the truth was you had feelings for his cohort.

You blushed whenever Ford looked your way, eyed his hands as they fiddled with the laboratory devices, wondering to yourself how his hands would feel on you. There were so many times you wanted to tell him how you felt, to confess your true feelings. With Fiddleford almost always present the timing never felt right, but tonight you had Ford all to yourself.

Neither of you said much, just taking in the night air. You bounced your leg nervously, you started to feel light headed but decided to ignore it. Ford studied your face, it was clear you were anxious about something.

“Y/n, are you okay?”

You bit the bullet and took a deep breath.

“Ford, I-“

But before you could get another word out the world around you began to sway, the corners of your vision going black, the darkness slowly creeping in. You felt yourself falling forward. The last thing you heard was Ford’s voice.

“Y/n? Y/n!”

-

Ford caught you in his arms, he looked down at you, not sure what to do. He shook you.

“Y/n! Y/n!”

He tried to collect his thoughts, what the hell had just happened? You were fine all day and now you were out cold. He put a hand to your forehead, it felt normal, you weren’t sick.

A chilling laugh that made the hairs on his neck stand on end echoed through his head.

“Well well well well well well well well well, looks like the perfect opportunity is right in front of you, sixer.”

Ford swallowed. “Bill?”

“The one and only. So what do you think of my handiwork?”

“Handiwork? What handiwork?”

“Oh come on, you’ve been pining after this kid for ages and you’ve been too darn afraid to do anything so I figured I’d throw you a bone.”

Ford felt a pit grow in his stomach “Bill… what did you do?”

“It’s really not that big of a deal, sixer. I just had you add a little something special to their drink.”

Ford was horrified. “Bill, that’s- you can’t-“

“Oh come off it Fordsy, you and I both know this is a golden opportunity. Do you seriously think you’re gonna have the guts to even kiss them when they’re awake?”

Ford bit his lip, Bill was right, he was a coward when it came to you.

“Mull it over, I’ll leave you two alone for now, don’t be a pussy. Byyyyyyeeeee.”

And with that things were quiet again, it was just Ford and you lying unconscious in his arms. He felt his pulse in his throat. He had wanted to kiss you, to know you intimately for so long. Would he really get another chance like this?

He stood up, and carried you through the front door. He walked through the dark cabin, the floorboards creaking underneath his feet. He opened the door to his room and walked to the edge of his bed, setting you down gently on the plush covers.

He cupped your cheek, stroking it with his thumb. He knew it was sick, but thought you looked incredibly cute passed out. Your lips were parted slightly, so kissable. He couldn’t resist, he leaned down and kissed you deeply and felt himself grow achingly hard. Fuck, this felt so wrong but he didn’t have the will to stop himself now.

His fingers traced the top button of your blouse, undoing each of them slowly, kissing his way down the valley between your breasts as he did so.

He thumbed the delicate lace of your bra, god if you hadn’t planned to be seen like this why would you wear something so sexy underneath? He slipped a hand down your back to sit you up so he could undo your bra.

He sucked in a breath as he laid you back down and took in the sight of your breasts, they were so fucking perfect. He had pictured it in his mind thousands of times but the real thing was even better than he imagined. He took one of your nipples in his mouth, swirling it with his tongue. Taking your other breast in his hand, he circled your nipple with his index finger.

His cock throbbed through his pants. If this was wrong why was he so turned on? Was he really that depraved? He shook his head, trying to escape the thoughts and enjoy the moment.

He ran his calloused hands up your thighs and started to pull down your pants. He let out a small dark chuckle, matching underwear. Yeah, you were asking for this. He hooked his thumbs in the waistband of your panties and slid them off your legs. The sight of you elicited another sinister laugh from him. You were soaking wet, even in your unconscious state your body begged for him.

He pulled his hands off of you and began removing his trench coat, next his sweater vest and collared shirt. He unbuckled his belt, letting it hit the floor with a loud thud. He slid his boxers off of his hips and let them fall over his discarded pants.

He stroked himself absentmindedly as he studied your naked body. He wished he had a polaroid camera so he could save this moment forever. He wanted to ravage you, claim you. Then it occurred to him that it would only be fair to make you cum if he was going to destroy you.

He slid himself down the length of your body, leaving a trail of kisses in his wake. His hot breath tickled your pussy. He took your clit in his mouth, his tongue flicking it rapidly. He moaned into your pussy, you tasted so fucking good. He wished that you were awake so you could tangle your fingers in his hair. He slid his index and middle finger inside of you, pumping roughly into you.

He felt your walls tighten around his fingers, your wetness dripping out of you. He worked you with a steady rhythm, savoring the delicious wet sounds of his fingers sliding in and out of you.

He sucked your clit furiously, his fingers fucking you with a brutal intensity. Your pussy began to spasm around his fingers, he knew you were close. He kept at his pace, wanting to push you to orgasm.

“That’s it, baby, cum for me.”

You began to pulse around his fingers, a small moan escaped your lips. He reveled in your orgasm. His cock leaked precum and twitched wildly. Nothing had ever gotten him this aroused.

He got up, dragging you head first to the edge of the bed, tilting your head back. He swiped his finger on your tongue, feeling the warmth of your mouth. He angled his cock to your lips and shoved himself down your throat.

He fucked your mouth aggressively, panting and swearing. You looked so pretty with his cock in your throat. He bucked his hips into your face, holding a hand to your neck, feeling his cock bulge in your throat.

He felt himself getting close, and pulled out. His breathing was ragged. He took a moment to collect himself before picking you up and laying you back down with your head on the pillow.

He climbed on top of you and kissed you deeply, hands fondling your breasts. He aligned his cock with your entrance and with a loud groan forced himself into you all the way to the hilt. The way your pussy gripped his cock was perfect.

-

Your eyes fluttered open, all you could see from the dim light of the bedside table lamp was a figure moving on top of you. As your eyes adjusted and you started to come back to reality it hit you just what was happening and who it was.

“FORD WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”

“Oh, you’re awake. I’m sorry but you passed out and you just looked so perfect that I had to have you.”

You desperately tried to free yourself from underneath him, you clawed at his arms. He took your wrists in his hands and pinned them down above your head.

“Don’t- ah, don’t struggle. I promise I’ll make you feel good.”

“Ford, stop. Please.” You cried.

“I can’t, nngh, you feel too good.”

He fucked you hard, pumping his thick cock into you. The slick, wet sounds filling the room. He forced his lips on yours and moaned into your mouth, his tongue shoving its way to the back of your throat.

You wrestled yourself out of his grip and pushed him off of you. You scrambled off of the bed and ran for your life for the door, but Ford was faster. He tackled you and pinned you to the floor.

“Baby please don’t make this, ugh, harder than it has to be.” He whispered into your ear as you fought back against him.

He pulled you to your feet and shoved you back down on the bed, pinning your wrists once more. He was going to finish what he started. He violently forced himself into you again, his rhythm punishing. He groaned loudly and bit your neck, you whimpered. His cock twitching at the noise.

He stopped for a second, reaching into the bedside drawer and pulled out a pair of handcuffs that he had stolen off a cop during a night of possession by Bill. He cuffed your hands above your head. His hand now free to travel south, making its way to your clit. He drew circles with his fingers while continuing to brutally fuck you, causing your pussy clench around his cock. The pleasure was indescribable, god he loved it.

You tried to struggle again, but Ford held you down by the waist with his free hand. His breathing quickened, he was close, you were too. He pounded you into the mattress, the bed frame shaking.

“Fuck you’re gonna make me cum, I need you to cum around my cock.”

His fingers didn’t let up, you felt yourself getting closer to the edge. You bit into his into his shoulder and felt the skin break, the sickly metallic taste of blood flooding your mouth. That was enough to send Ford over, he cocked his head back and his moan echoed throughout the cabin. You cried out as you came, tears welling in your eyes.

Ford shuddered and panted, he was spent. He rolled off of you and collapsed beside you. You laid there, shaking and crying. Ford took your face in his hand, wiping away the tears with his thumb.

“Shh shh shh, it’s okay, you’re okay.” He cooed. “Let me get those cuffs off of you.”

With a click of the little key your hands were released. You thought about using this as an opportunity to run, but you felt frozen. He kissed you lazily on your lips and neck, then he pulled you against his chest. His big calloused hands stroked your back. You felt strangely comforted, safe almost. You had always wanted this, to be wrapped in Ford’s arms.

Ford had desired you for so long, and now that he finally had you he wasn’t going to let you go.

[ifbrd]

A little while ago I saw online someone had made a DND character sheet for Ford Pines. In the ability scores area, they had intelligence as the highest (makes sense), and strength as one of the lowest (fair enough)

But then they had wisdom as second highest and dexterity as second lowest, and I gotta say, I think those two need to be flipped

I mean let’s start with dexterity. Now I’m not an expert on DND by any means so apologies if I am misunderstanding dexterity here, but others have pointed out that Ford spent his entire adulthood chasing after and/or running from paranormal creatures. I guess I just feel like he has to have high dexterity for him to have even survived all those years.

Also this

But wisdom being low is where I feel most strongly.

I wouldn’t be the first to point out that Ford, while highly intelligent, completely lacks common sense.

People have noted that the safety measures for turning the portal on and off should have been reverse, that the portal shouldn’t have been that easy to turn on by accident and yet it required at least two people to turn it off.

He keeps an infinity die in a “cheap plastic case”

He gives a 12 year old a cross bow

He gives another 12 year old a mind control tie and tells him to “use it responsibly”

He takes Dipper out on several missions that were probably too dangerous for him, refer to the magnet gun above, where Dipper, if he didn’t do it right, could have fallen to his death, and Ford also took him on the mission to shoot Bill for …some reason???? Leave the 12 year old at home when you go kill god to save the world from the current apocalypse! Why do I even need to say that??? Also “don’t worry I’ve been down here countless times and all the aliens are dead…probably”

As I recall, “Bill proofing the shack” was his first line of defense and “Bill proof our minds” was “the next best thing” …shouldn’t those be reversed??? You gotta leave the shack at some point????

According to journal 3, Ford was the one who encouraged Stan to take the kids on a road trip RIGHT AFTER BILL PROOFING THE SHACK, which completely defeats the purpose of doing that in the first place.

I’ve pointed this out before, “Mabel will be fine! I watched her become pen pals with the pizza delivery man in the 15 seconds he was at the door!” … Ford…that’s creepy has hell, keep that pizza delivery man away from your niece!”

When weirdmageddon started he wrote in his journal????? And drew a lovely little detailed image?????

See that little greenish sticky note at the top? That’s my little note that says “when did you have time to write this?????” Seriously what. “It’s the end of the world…i gotta draw this and write a little entry on it before I save everyone!!!” It’s the drawing that really gets me. Okay write a note in case someone else has to take over but WHY THE DRAWING

And finally, everyone is holding hands at the Cipher Wheel. Stan is essential and is refusing to join unless Ford thanks him for saving him. Ford reluctantly does so. It’s now clear that Stan is willing to put everyone, Dipper and Mabel included, at risk just because he wants a thank you, so Ford decides this is a really good time to CORRECT STAN’S GRAMMAR

Look I say this with love but,

Ford may be the smartest people in the room but he’s also the biggest dumbass in the room. This man has no wisdom.

[identifying-cars-in-posts]

A long overdue update:

Hi everyone. Long time no see. I literally have not opened Tumblr since the last time I posted here. Hope everyone is doing ok. Figured I owed y’all an apology and explanation for kinda just vanishing.

First, I did in fact get a car! It’s a 2015 Nissan Versa Note. I don’t particularly like it but a friend gave me a deal on it that I couldn’t turn down. Once my life stabilizes I’m probably going to sell it and buy an old truck, maybe a 70s Ford. I’d love a little sports car or a land yacht but rear wheel drive is a bit impractical for brutal New England winters, and the Jeep really put me in Old American Truck Mode. But yes I have a car now!

Second, unfortunately this is an official notice of hiatus. When I last posted saying I was taking some time off it was because I had just had an incredibly stressful move and did not have the energy to keep this blog up. I figured I’d take some time to get settled in, relax, and then pick this back up after a week or two, but the last month has been really rough - the short version is one of the people I was living with turned out to be a pretty horrendous human being who managed to get everybody living in the house essentially kicked out via sheer drama. Within a month and a half. It’s a long story but tl:dr if you quite literally slander a property manager with heavy unfounded accusations of horrible crimes, they’ll probably bail from the whole situation. And since they’re gone the landlord has to hand ownership of everything over to a company that’s forcing everyone still here to vacate. I’m now fighting to not have to live in aforementioned Nissan Versa through the aforementioned brutal New England winter. On top of that, I’m a retail manager so we’re going into our busiest most stressful season, so that’s been an extra level of exhaustion.

So what does that mean for this blog? Well, as I said, I’m officially going on indefinite hiatus, as are the projects I was working on in relation, including the reference website. I’m really sorry, I’m just way too stressed and dealing with way too much. If I could, I would just hand off administrative power to someone else, but this is a sideblog so I can’t hand off login credentials without also giving access to my main/personal account. It’s my biggest regret of this account, but when I started it I never expected it to blow up the way it did back in September - I had no reason to expect to need it to be its own entirely separate blog. I love what I was doing here and I thought that it might even be a nice distraction from everything going on, but the upkeep required with this blog is just more than I can deal with right now. I hope that things settle down soon and that I can genuinely come back here and enjoy what I was doing, but I just need literally anything to level out in my real life and to not be in 100% survival mode, because at the moment I literally do not have the energy to pour into this.

Anyway. Sorry for the long post, I’m not good at not being overly verbose. I’m really sorry for kind of abandoning this project, and I hope I can get back to it relatively soon, it just might be a while.

In the mean time, I hope those of y’all who I turned onto cars as a potential hobby find some other good outlets! I highly recommend Donut Media’s series “Up to Speed” on YouTube, as well as the channels Regular Car Reviews, Doug DeMuro, Garbage Time, and Aging Wheels. All great YouTube channels that are both informative and very approachable and fun.

Godspeed and much love. Hope to see y’all soon

- Identifying Cars in Posts admin ❤️

[sillyjpeg]

BOOK OF BILL WEBSITE CHANGE

this contains MAJOR SPOILERS FOR THE WEBSITE CHANGE. if you want to find shit urself, dont read this!!!

also this is part one of probably many bc i cant fit everything in here. curse you image limit

i wont be going over alot of the not as important stuff, but still go explore the website for it because i got alot of good laughs!

RIGHT OFF THE BAT. In the top right corner of the screen when the lightning flashes, there are words revealed carved in the wall. it reads: VALLIS CINERIS. when this is typed into the computer it gives this video:

haunting. really giving me analog horror vibes. wasnt sure what else to do with this though.

I also noticed that on the candle in the right side of the desk, there is a code

this is decoded used the rune code, and translates into CURSED. when put into the computer, this is what is given back:

interesting.

One of the first things me and my friends did was go through the main characters names. the most interesting one of these for me is definitely Stanley, but i want to go over Pacifica first because Stanleys is LONG.

When you type in Pacifica you get this:

I love her signature btw. BUT if you type in Platinum Paz, you get somethin very, very interesting.

This may not be in the right order so forgive me, but at the end of that code, if you use a shift decoder (im so smart sue me)

it says: "STAY AWAY FROM HER CIPHER. SHE HAS THE PROTECTION OF THE LUMBERFOLKS SPIRITS"

pacificas character development has always been special to me, and this was honestly chilling. in the book of bill we see that she has nightmares about the lumberjack, and this shows how much guilt she carries. her finally finding her peace with what happened made me smile :)

but as nice and heartwarming as this is, were moving on to STANLEY PINES! and oh BOY are the stanley lovers having a field day. so first of all, if you type in Stanley, it will take you to a few different links. including gold chains, brass knuckles, an 8 ball cane, a fez, and a colonel neck tie. funny right? if you keep entering his name, this pops up:

Below this is a bunch of things with the label of being shameful. one of them is very interesting but im gonna put some lighter stuff first for the sillies.

i need alex to show us the photos from the hunky drifters catalogue alex can you hear me please i mean WHO SAID THATTTT WHO SAID THATTTTTT

ALSO NO ONE COMING TO HIS FAKE FUNERAL EXCEPT HIS MOM :( she loved her little free spirit stanley

ALSO- him stripping for flour in Tijuana, again, i need photographic evidence.

his ex wives list also made me giggle. he was MARRIED TO OLD GOLDIE????? also Marilyn being Eda made me giggle, i love the fact that they got married at some point. get them back together please. also stan having smaller hands than ford and being self-conscious about it stan i love you mwah mwah mwah

ALSO FILBRICK TRYING TO SELL STAN FOR GETTIN AN F- PLEASE

anyways now onto the section at the bottom of the Wheel of Shame page!

Its titled : HOW HE BEAT ME. im not adding a photo bc ur guy is running out of room :(

you have to click on this repeatedly to get anything good out of it, so i took the liberty of milking it for all it had!!! i didnt take screenshots of everything because some of it was redundant, but here are the interesting and or funny bits:

just reiterating, this is not all thats in there, im just putting parts that stood out to me. please take the time to go through all this urself bc its a TREAT.

now into the crazier stuff

hes obviously having some sort of breakdown, just like we see at the end of the book of bill. the last page i decoded myself, and i got this using all the different decoders:

"THROUGH LQS SFSE CN EVERYONE IVE EVER"

for "LQS SFSE CN" i used the original bill cipher code, and im not sure why it gave me this. a smarter, better decoder probably has the answer.

i can theorize a few different things on what this could possibly mean even with it not being all decoded. the one that comes to mind is "I can still see through everyone ive ever met" maybe knowing too much? but without the middle part decoded i cant say much. if you have the solution for this please leave a comment as any help would be greatly appreciated. this all did drop a few hours ago so i doubt many people are working on decoding all this.

UPDATE!! I TRANSLATED IT WRONG.

IT SAYS “THROUGH THE EYES OF EVERYONE IVE EVER”

this makes alot more sense. bill can see through others eyes so it most likely is refering too how he possesses people and sees through their eyes. In the book of bill he shows how angry he is having to watch the Pines family be happy.

It says that when he closes his eye, he can still see through the eyes of everyone hes ever…possesed? probably. So can Bill still see through Ford, or maybe Dipper, and he cant turn it off. Whenever he closes his eyes he is haunted by the happy life he failed to destroy. To see through their eyes.

This poem using gambling as a way to describe Stan's life choices really struck me. the more i thought on it the more it made sense. he gambled that Ford's project would probably still work, gambled with all of his sham products. His entire life has been a betting game. The most interesting thing about all this is the end of the poem. It reads

"IM STILL ON YOUR MIND"

this has been a theory for awhile in the gravity falls community that if stan got back all his memories, including ones about bill, wouldnt bill come back? for me this confirms the theory, and opens up a whole new can of worms which i will talk about later.

I have reached my image and video limit, but expect more posts!

stay weird yall :)

[thematpatcu]

So uh,,, just gonna let this go here,,,

Off Night

BillxFordxFiddleford

Silly eepy time fic I made in a cold sweat trust

“Specs really is tired tonight, huh? Must be tiring being worked down to the bone.” This again. Bill had already gone through this whole conversation 30 minutes ago, and Ford thought he had dropped the issue by now.

‘He’s fine, Bill, he’s probably just having an off day.’ It happens to the best of us, and if anybody can pull through this, it’s him and Fiddleford. They’re not like everybody else, they can achieve anything they put their minds to, as long as they’re willing to put in the hours.

“Off night.” For a moment, Bill sounded cross, but he quickly returned to his usual cheery demeanor. “It’s almost midnight, Sixer. Don’t tell me you’re losing track of time again.”

‘We’ve worked longer.’

Right as he heard Bill sigh, Fiddleford spoke up. “Stanford..?”

“Hm? Yes, Partner?”

He was avoiding eye contact with him. “‘S been a long night, and I oughta get home soon-“

“But we’re so close to hitting the next big break on the portal!” Stanford shot him a desperate look, “Please, Fidds, just five more minutes…”

Fiddleford fidgeted with his hands, a wobbly smile appearing across his face, “Right, I know, but, portal’ll be there tomorrow, won’t it? Plus, I gave ya five more minutes…” He shrunk in on himself, mumbling now, “thirty minutes ago…”

‘Can’t believe you’re making me do this, IQ.’

“Do what?” Before Fiddleford could ask why he just asked that, Stanford slumped against the desk, rising back up with yellow eyes.

“Alright, Mr Inventor, I’ve heard ya loud and clear!” He stood tall, hands at his hips, grinning unnaturally wide at the hillbilly.

“Bill..?”

“The one and only! So, ol’ Sixer won’t let ya sleep, huh?” He cocked his head to the side, his smile turning more cocky.

Fiddleford looked down, to his left and right, anywhere that wasn’t Bill’s face. “Oh, it ain’t like that..”

“I can tell when you’re lyingggg, smart guyyyy!” He crowded into Fidd’s personal space, looming over him like he always did.

“If Stanford wants us to stay up… I will. ‘S what you do when ya care fer someone.” He was doing that whole starry-eyed look again. Bill was starting to notice it on the hillbilly more and more.

It was disgusting. He hated it. “You’re going to bed whether I have to make you or not.”

Fiddleford crossed his arms, turning to face him in his chair head on. He stared Bill in the eyes, a determined (if tired) look on his face. “Make me, then.” Bill hated that look, the inventor had used it on him before and it made Stanford’s stupid body get all warm and jumpy every time.

His voice was low when he found it, “Careful what you wish for, Specs.” Bill lunged at Fiddleford, but missed, allowing him time to slip away and run off into another room of the house. “YOU CAN RUN, BUT YOU CANT HIDE!” He knew he wouldn’t go easy if he had egged him on, but the face Bill makes because of it is worth it every time, even if he’s very certain he’s going to die now. His hiding spot is good, sure, but the dropped pots and pans might have given him away.

Bill is close, he can tell. He can feel his presence looming closer. Bill slows his pace, tutting in front of him like a disappointed teacher. “I really expected better from you, Banjo.”

Fidd sighed, standing up, walking into the room, lit up by the moonlight shining through the window. One of the only ones that didn’t have Bill in it. Though, Fidd supposed, it’s got Bill in it right now. His eyes are in the reflection. “Ya really just want me to go to bed that badly?”

“Yep!” Bill took his hand, (er, more so his wrist,) dragging Fiddleford to his and Stanford’s shared room. He brought Fidd to the edge of the bed, slapping his back so hard he fell forward onto it. “Golly, ya fell real easy! Ahahaha! Just like how ya fell for Ford.”

“What was that last part?” Fidd looked at Bill, red as a cherry, but he was already gone. Stanford fell on top of him, completely knocked out cold. He tried to move the bigger man off of him as gently as he could, Stanford hitting the bed with a loud thud. He immediately started snoring.

Fiddleford chuckled to himself, got under the blankets, and fell asleep.