#the way you drew stan and ford

[heyitsspiders]

THIS IS SO COOL!!

;]

[lemongogo]

they should get to kill each other at least twice .i think

[junkboxcorner]

very messy sketches of ford I did today during my trip to the doctor bc why not?

[egginfroggin]

Let this be the post in which I reveal my crippling weakness for drawing fluffy-haired small children

Transcription:

(arrow pointing to Ford) "He boot too big for he gotdamn feet"

Ford: "Are you sure this is a good idea, Grauntie Mabel?" Mabel: "Trust me, kiddo, you don't wanna be going around in sneakers here" ("We'll get you some better shoes in the next dimension")

Mabel: "You know what we need to get you?" Ford: "What" Mabel: "a lil scarf "and a turtleneck" Ford: "I already have a turtleneck" Mabel: "a red one" Ford: "is it necessary" Mabel: "yes" "and some goggles" "maybe a trenchcoat"

Relativity Falls & Drifting Stars AU

exists solely due to the first image

Mabel procures the scarf and goggles but fails to pilfer a tiny trenchcoat

Thanks for taking a look! Have a good day :>

[thefallenangel2008]

Continuation to this post.

Stan is angry his brother taped Stephanie on the wall, Ford is genuinely confused cause huh??? And Steph doesn't care because, well, she's a baby, lol.

(I'm sorry if Stan looks so weird, I tried.🙏😭)

[sleeplessdreamer14]

𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌

fandom: gravity falls

relationship: stanford pines x reader

summary: the moment Ford realized he liked you. 

contains: stan being stan, the uh-oh moment, and pining

Ford wasn’t the most social person, to put it plainly. Despite his popularity amongst his teachers at school and the odd handful of classmates, he normally preferred his own company, otherwise his family’s. It had been that way for a long time, and it seemed like it would remain so for the foreseeable future.

And so it did. That is, until he met you, which he did not see coming. 

You had this welcoming presence about you, that much was clear by the way you spoke to him for the first time in the seventh grade, remaining mostly unfazed by his sixth digit aside from the initial surprise. The first time he caught himself rambling about parapsychology and anomalistics, he found no judgment or disinterest in your expression. In fact, you were actually listening, setting down whatever you were doing just to give him your undivided attention. That was a first. It felt nice to have someone (who wasn’t his brother or mother) listen to him. 

And the energy was returned, as he indulged your interests too. Before he knew it, Ford would often seek out your company, whether his brother was available or not, and the two of you could usually be found bouncing ideas off of each other. The room seemed to brighten when you came into view, your presence made him feel comfortably warm inside. Whenever you two parted ways, it always felt too soon, just like it did now.

“Oh my gosh.”

Stan’s voice drew Ford’s attention away from you as you left.

“What?” he asked, mildly perturbed by the wily grin on his brother’s face. Stan just chuckled and nudged him, “You’ve got it so bad, it’s almost embarrassing.” he teased, to which Ford lightly shoved him away, beginning their route back home from the pier. 

“Stanley, come on. They’re my friend just as they are yours. They’re good company.” he said, glancing off to the side, as if that could conceal the rosy pink hue on his face, but Stan remained undeterred. “Sixer, face it. You’re whipped with a capital wh-pshh!” he said, smacking one hand with his other for emphasis. 

“I am not- look, [Name] is very kind and a good friend, I appreciate that. It’s not like I lie awake at night thinking about them.”

Several hours later, it was well past nightfall and everyone in the Pines household was fast asleep, save Ford. 

Up on the top bunk, he laid on his back, hands folded over his midriff as his chest heaved slowly and his heart thrummed steadily beneath its surface. That warmth was still present, especially around his face. His conversation with Stanley had been playing on loop all evening.

Of course Ford liked you, heck, he was crazy about you. You were so nice to him and fun to be around, your enthusiasm was so endearing, and you never treated his abnormalities as though they were defects.

And you weren’t bad to look at either, of course, like earlier that afternoon on the boardwalk when the sun’s light highlighted your features. He could stare at you for hours. The way you diminished his resolve just by looking his way and smiling at him was so positively-

Oh.

Oh. 

“Oh no.”

Ford could just faintly hear a sleepy chuckle from his brother in the bunk below him. 

if this gets enough notes I’ll write a part 2

[millenianthemums]

i made a part two to that non-canon “ford finds out about bill” comic back when i first drew it, but i never posted this one. i was planning to do it later and then i forgot, and then i thought it had been so long since the first one that i might as well color this one. and then i spent way too long doing that. so yeah.

i think seeing how much Ford (and Stan) hate Bill would be rough on Mabel in this AU. because of course she loves them very much and she totally understands why they’re upset! but she can’t just let them kill her friend. of course she’s not gonna let anyone she cares about get hurt. it’s just tough when people you love can’t get along with each other. (her parents getting divorced doesn’t help how she feels about all this.)

bonus:

bill has a lot of problems mabel doesn’t need to know about.

[chillinglyadventurous]

Got some Stanley fluff for ya (just an idea, I probably could flesh it out more but it’s a scene I’ve thought about a lot)

Old man Stan with his younger partner are curled up together on his old, yellow recliner. You’re sitting between his legs, side pressed to his chest while your legs fall over the armrest.

Stan is holding you so securely as he focuses on whatever shitty hallmark movie is playing, fingers rubbing against your hip stalling as he scoffs at whatever stupid decision the characters in the movie make.

But all you can do is laugh and kiss under his jaw while he complains, nuzzling your face into his neck when he stumbles over his words. Huffing now about how you’re throwing him off by acting how the characters in the movie should be acting.

I just wanna sweetly fluster the old man and make him feel loved.

The Duchess Approves

Thank you so much for request! I’m so sorry it’s taken me so long to get to it. I’m just happy to get a Stan request. I’m a Ford girl, but I do love some Stanley. He’s the sweetest goober.

Tags: Fluff

You gave a relaxed sigh even as Stan talked over the TV. You were laid across him on his recliner. Your rear was between his legs , head on his chest, while your ankles were crossed over one of the arm rests. At first, you had hated that ugly, yellow chair. Now, it was the most comfortable place in the world.

When you had first started seeing Stan, he would take you out and show you off. However, the sugar baby allegations were too much for you to deal with. You loved this man. You didn’t care that he was forty years older than you. However, everyone else in town did.

Despite his assurances, it made you about uncomfortable. “Don’t worry, babe,” he had smirked, “they’re just jealous I get you all to myself.”

Still, you much preferred where you were now with your side pressed firm to his chest. You could tell he was trying to suck in the pudge he often hid behind a girdle. If only he knew how much you loved it.

Usually, his demeanor was so hard. His personality was gruff, but you knew the sweeter side, the softer side. That’s why you loved that little pooch that you could only ever full see when he was sleeping next to you.

“These idiots,” Stan grouched from above you. “Don’t they knew that’s not how you win a lady’s heart?” He bent you back in his lap and pressed a wet kiss to your mouth. When he pulled away, his face was covered in a smile. You blushed so beautifully. “Now, that’s how you win a lady.”

The two of you had watched The Duchess Knows a million times. Stan always said you loved it whenever someone caught him gabbing on and on. In truth, you couldn’t stand it, but it made him happy, so you would sit through it.

Lazily, his fingers drew shapes on your hips through your pajama pants. Your head rested on his chest, peppering kisses under his chin. He was so engrossed in whatever sleazy moves Count Lionel was making.

In a twist, the Count kissed the Duchess’s sister. Stan scoffed, his fingers on your hip stilling. He looked down at you. “You’d kill me if I ever did that crap! Who does he think he’s foolin’?” He shook his head, “He’s definitely not fooling me. I clocked him as a cad the moment I saw him.”

“Takes one to know one,” you snarked. You gave him another kiss.

He glanced down at you for a brief moment. “Listen here, toots, I may be a cad, but I’m your cad. Get over it.”

“Silly old man,” you sighed as you rested your head on his chest again. He pulled you in tighter. “I wouldn’t have you any other way.”

He nestled you deeper into his hold, body pressed flush against your side. He gave a huff. “Ya know, hot stuff, I’d fight any pantaloon wearing geek for you. Defend your honor and all that mushy stuff.”

[nostalgink]

I would sell my soul for more of your Stanford in a dress + family bonding

I would totally love it if you drew more of that! No pressure though, I just really love your content <3

Definitely earned a follow with this one

Not really the family (Mabel, My Human Bill, and my Oc, Val) but there will potentially be dipper and Stan later, I just need to sleep ack.

I’m so glad you like Ford in a skirt tho! Everyone seems to love it sm, so there’s plenty more on the way, trust me!

(Also I will be adding your soul to my collection. Thank you. This weird triangle has been visiting me in dreams and says he needs them for something idk what.)

[toneshieee]

Stan playing horsey adventure with his twins 💖

We were going nuts over Cowboy Stan the other day and were making prompts about riding him XD The first draft that I made for this was actually funny cuz it was supposed to be a self insert of riding him on his back and go “ride like the wind, bullseye!” with one hand raised in the air lmao I made their expression so silly I suddenly thought about “oh man, this would look so cute with his twins, like Stan playing horsey adventures with his cowgirl princesses”. When I sketched the twins on his back I just had to junk my first draft cuz THEY LOOK SO FREAKIN CUTE!!!! 💖💖💖 oh my heart 💖💖💖 I aged up the twins a bit here, I guess them being around like 3-4 years old? I’m kinda using my godkid as my reference haha.

I honestly don’t understand the anatomy of this pose XD but I guess it turned out pretty okay? (I was having a bit of hard time drawing the pose) I kinda wish I drew the living room background cuz I bet it’ll look so cute with all the toys scattered around the room XD Now, I know Stan posing like this looks delicious, but let’s stay in fluff for a minute here XD

It actually also made me wonder if what would Stan want his kids to call him? Not really a headcanon, but I kinda like the idea of his kids calling him “Pa” like how he and Ford used to call their dad. (No Stan, you are nothing similar to Filbrick and you will never become like him. You’re gonna be the best fucking dad to your kids). I was having second thoughts cuz I remember in one of Ford’s dialogue telling Stan how he looks like their dad, yea the same man who disowned him and left him wander on the streets, yea him. I don’t want to hurt my pookie, but I just wonder if Stan might have some passing thoughts or worries like becoming like his dad or something in a way (sorry I’m honestly not good in explaining stuffs XD but you get the point XD)

ALSO kinda crazy cuz I’ve been thinking about how everyone has their own GF AU and I kinda wish I had one too, then when I was drawing Stan’s kids I realized like “dudeeee you have your own AU!!!!” like woah shit hell yeaaaa I do have my own XD I feel so pumped I could actually create a character design for his twins, some cute short comics and stuffs wow that would actually be fun haha 💖

[stancestanomaly]

Horse Riding lesson! 🐴

Wrote a short scene for this cause my mind wouldn't stop replaying it over and over while I worked this.

-

Struggling against the rag that bound his hands behind his back, he tried to ignore the chuckle from the man who put him in this position. "Stanley! Y'know this was not what I was referring to when I asked for your assistance when learning to ride a horse!"

"Aww, sug'r~" Stan's throaty purr sent a wave of heat up Ford's spine. "This is gonna help ya, you hafta learn to stay on yer mount if ya gonna be ridin' it."

"Then why must I be in your lap, instead of practicing on an actual horse? And why do you insist on chewing on that?"

"Becuz darlin' it's like chewing gum in a way." Stan pinched the wheat between his teeth. "And the last time you tried to ride a horse, you ended up in the horse's trough. Remember?"

"Don't remind me," Ford groaned as another chuckle tumbled from his brother. "But I don't see how your argument counters, the fact that I can't practice on a real horse."

"N' all honesty, I'm all the practice yur gonna need. Y'know I got all the horsepower." He ran his hands up Ford's thighs as he moved to give his butt a squeeze. "I mean, I know yur buns do~"

"St-Stanely," Ford gritted his teeth, as blood rushed across his face.

"Wha? Ain't like I'm lyin', I can still hear yur pretty voice singin' my name as we fucked n' the barn." Caressing his twin's sides as the memory replayed.

"And I still remember all the prude language that left your mouth too," Ford grumbled at the strong hands that danced along his trunk and ushered forth another wave of satisfying warmth.

"N' I still remember how disheveled yur hair was while your face was redder than that time ma got mad at us for playin' in mud after she just washed our clothes."

"I also remember dad chasing us because they were our good clothes too," he smiled as the sound of Stan's laughter rang in the air, like music to his ears. He listened to the tune a little longer before he cleared his throat. "So about my lesson, are you gonna help me or not?"

"Sure am darlin'," Stan spat out the wheat before he leaned up to capture his brother's lips. Stan strummed Ford's cords, drawing out lustful melodic moans as he stuck his tongue into Ford's mouth. Joining in on the song libidinous desires. He bucked his hips to usher out another chorus of bubbling lust between them.

Pausing their record, Stan drew back to get a look at Ford as he panted through closed eyes with a cherry-red bridge stretching across his face. Admiring how the sunset streaming through the widow panted his brother's features.

"I say we take this to the bedroom," Stan purred, tightening his hold on his brother. He stood up from the couch, tossing his brother over his shoulder. "Alrighty cowboy, let's go give ya that lesson~" Smacking his brother's butt as he sauntered to their room.

"St-Stanley, w-wait, this isn't what I was referring to!" He squirmed, as he was carried out of the den, up the stairs, and down the hall toward their room.

"Stanleeeyyy!" Ford shouted as the bedroom door was shut and locked behind them.

-

Had a ton of fun writing that, lol. This is my second time drawing ranch life/cowboy 30!stans. (Honestly, I should draw them more often. Because Stan's with that hair is doing something for me🥵.) The first time I drew them was two years ago for another set of Halloween stancest drawings I did. The drawings. I had liked this au idea so much that I wrote a fic about it but never actually finished it😅 So maybe I'll do that sometime soon... Anyway, have some ranch life stancest! 🧡🤎

[smiley-mcdoggington]

DONT ASK ME WHAT THIS IS I'M SPEED RUNNING THIS BEFORE I PASS TF OUT TW COERSION I GUESS??? TW STANCEST TW SMIDGE OF IMPLIED/REFERENCED SA TW A/B/O DYNAMICS

Ford's long fingers curled tightly into the blankets as he tried to swaddle himself even smaller. He almost threw the blanket when it didnt bring the relief he wanted.

Ford had read about the omegan estrous cycle - he had to, when he turned fifteen and it became clear Stanley was growing broader but he was not. He knew if he was just held by familiar people it would calm the knashing pain in his stomach and the pulsing in his head.

But instead he was alone, because Ma had locked the door and told him not to let anyone in except her. It was day three, the most optimistic estimate was he still had another two full days of trying to figure out how to hold himself the way someone else would hold him - touch himself the way someone else would touch him.

Then there were three quick knocks before the door was shoved open. Ma looked pale. "You and Stanley stay in here until you don't see your Pa's car on the road, capiche? Don't open this door for anything until then, there's money on the counter, leftovers in the fridge, Stanford you call my sister when it's safe, I love you both, goodbye." She said in a whirlwind that barely made it through Ford's cloudy thoughts. Then Stanley was shoved in the room and the door was slammed behind him.

Ford stared at Stanley for a second with wide eyes. Ma hadn't allowed him in their room since Ford had presented, acting cagey whenever he asked before eventually just saying that Stanley looked like an alpha and alphas couldn't control themselves. That was why Pa wasn't allowed in. Ford knew it was factually incorrect - alphas were capable of resisting urges, they simply chose not to in many cases. Part of him wondered if Stanley would be so forceful once he presented. He certainly had the build for it.

Then a wimper drew Ford's gaze away from his indimidating form and up to his face. His face was a deep pink, tears rolling down his cheeks and trembling where he stood.

Then the scent cut through his own. Oh.

Stanley had presented.

Ford slowly drew away from his blankets - the open air was suffocating, but Stanley could help that - Stanley was just another omega, he could help, wrap those big arms around him, press that heavy weight into his ribs until he didn't have to feel anything anymore.

"Stanley. Why are you crying?" His voice dragged as he got closer - he was only wearing his boxers, he couldn't find it in him to care.

"I wa-was s'posed to be - be an alpha. That-That's what Ma said." He babbled. "How can I prote-ct us if I'm an omega?" He whimpered, digging his heels into his eyes. "I'm sor-ry." He hiccuped.

Ford felt a rush of something wash over him. In the next second he had Stan's face in his hands - so warm, he fit perfectly between 12 fingers. "You're still a great boxer, Stanley. But now - now you can help me. Don't you want that?" Stanley looked up at him with those big brown eyes, hopeful. It made Ford's stomach roll in a new way.

"H-How?" Stanley asked, laying his own smaller hands over Ford's with such ease, as if the contact Ford had needed was just so easy to give.

Ford pulled Stanley closer. "Physical contact. Familial omegan contact can bring smaller amounts of the endorphins released during copulation. You want it too, don't you?" Stanley nodded quickly. "The come here." He purred, and Stanley curled around him in a tight hug. Stanford shivered, clinging back to his twin. For a moment, they stood there, similar scents intertwining, both making small pleased huffs as they gripped eachother tighter.

But like an addiction, he started itching for more. "Stanley." He muttered into his brother's ear. "We should go back to the bed. I tried building a nest it--" Stan's nose touched the gland on his neck and he made a quiet keening noise. "--it isn't great, but omegan behavioral studies were very vague with how they're made."

Stan hummed. "Nest. Yeah. That - that sounds so good." He said, before picking Ford up. Ford took the chance to wrap his legs around him. When Stan finally pressed him into the mattress Ford whined loudly, a purr still filled with the cracklings of puberty rumbling in his chest. Stan shoved his face into Ford's whispy chest hairs, whining right back at him.

"You're - You're right, your nest is crap." Stanley teased breathlessly. Ford jabbed him in the back with the sole of his foot and Stanley giggled, eyes still red-rimmed but smiling, now. Ford couldn't help smiling back.

"Fix it then." Ford replied, and Stan pulled away very slightly before dropping back down.

"Nah." Stan said simply, clinging to Ford.

The cramps were still there - but with Stanley they were barely a nuiscence. Just a low presence to match the feeling of his wet boxers.

Then he noticed Stan's slight shifting.

He still looked completely distracted, blissed-out and clinging to Ford like a piece of driftwood in the ocean. But lower down his hips were twitching into the mattress just a little. Ford traced the tiny erratic rolling of Stan's hips in a trance. Did Stanley even notice?

Then Stanley made a little groaning, huffing noise and Ford's own hips twitched. Except any movement on his own part resulted in directly jutting into his brother's stomach.

Stanley's eyes snapped open. He looked up at Ford slowly. Before he could say a word Ford had pushed up his glasses. "it's perfectly normal to have the same physical symptoms of arousal during an estrous cycle, Stanley." He said almost defensively, but Stanley's relief seemed to be directed inward. He rolled his hips more brazenly against the mattress.

Then Stan's whole body froze, and he started pulling away. Ford tried to follow him, but Stanley looked close to crying again. "Whats the matter? I promise it's normal, Stanley - what's wrong?"

"I gotta go." Stan said stiffly.

"You can't go, Stanley - Pa isn't gone yet." He said, sitting up and reaching for him.

"I don't care about Pa, I'll just punch him again if I gotta." His voice wavered with a little bit of fear.

Ford stood again. "Don't be ridiculous Stanley - why do you have to leave?"

Stan looked away.

"Stanley."

"I think I peed myself."

Ford stared at him. Then down at his perfectly dry jeans. Then he snorted.

Stan's face twisted angrily, though his eyes were glassy again. "Shut up."

"You didn't pee yourself, Stanley - did you even read the omegan biology book I lent you? Or were you too busy drawing Lil' Stanley in the margins?" Stan shrank in on himself a little. Ford sighed fondly. "Here - it's happening to me, too, it's just discharge." He wiped some from his inner thigh onto his finger for Stan to see. "The pH is within the acidic range, though, so you should probably get out of your good jeans before you bleach them." He said, and Stan just kept staring at his two damp fingers.

Ford would have let Stan indulge his curiosity, but the lack of contact was getting to Ford. "Stanley?"

His brother nodded, clearing his throat and unbuckling his belt. Ford watched his hands make quick work of the leather, before he slid the denim down over his tight boxers and his large, chubby thighs. There was a small wet spot on the inside of his jeans. Ford wondered if he would add it to their nest.

Stan threw his shirt over his head and then they were both in similar attire. Ford pulled Stanley closer to him again - he just couldn't stand the itch of not touching his twin for long. "Now that that's established..." He dragged Stan back into his bed. They laid facing eachother, legs tangled and arms clinging.

Stan was just so perfect as an omega - so pliant. Ford wondered how he ever could have thought Stan would be an alpha, even with his build. He was so perfect, so trusting, he fit just perfectly in Ford's arms, held into every word despite the physical advantage and the primal mindset an estrous cycle brought to the forefront. Watching Stan happily nuzzle into his smaller chest made Ford almost understand the gaze of an alpha. Stan would just be so easy to take and claim for himself - not because Stanley was weak but because he was Stanford Pines and Stanley was pliant for him and him alone.

He curled a little further towards his brother, when his thightouched something warm and wet. Stanley didn't move away, his nose just scrunched a little and he whined softly. Ford studied every subtle change in his expression.

Then Stan's hips rolled against his thigh. His dick was solid, pressing into his stomach, but Stan was more interested in the new sensations his hole brought, grinding it against Ford's thigh with tiny huffing whines, getting his leg wet while Stan lost himself with his nose still pressed into Ford's ribcage. Ford was like this, too, the first day. It was so cute on Stanley, though. Ford pushed his leg a little harder upward and Stanley moaned quietly, like he thought he was being subtle.

Stan's whines got a little more desperate the longer he went without orgasm, chasing an end that wouldn't come just from a bit of frotting. Ford let him get frustrated, felt his thick thighs quiver under the blanket while he tried to grind harder. Ford felt a drip of hot discharge run off his knee and he snapped.

He grabbed Stan by the hips and Stan stopped dead. "Proper orgasm during an estrous cycle is nearly impossible to achieve by one's self because of the lack of physical contact. This is enough to get rid of the cramps, but if you want to come then you have to ask." His voice was rough from the sight of Stanley, he felt his own slick running down his thighs.

"P-Please." Stanley whimpered. Ford immediately surged forwards, bracketing Stan's larger form under him and pressing their lips together for a searing moment. When he pulled back, Stan tried to follow.

"You want something in your hole, don't you?"

Stan nodded quickly, back arched just a little, neck exposed obscenely.

"Gorgeous - god, Stan, you're so pretty, you know that?" He mumbled into Stan's jaw between short, soft kisses. "You probably want some big alpha to stretch you out, don't you? Fill you up while you take it so perfectly?"

"No." Stan whispered. "Jus-Just you. Please, I want - need you, please." Ford shivered at the words.

"Perfect, Stanley, you're so perfect." Ford purred into Stan's skin while six fingers dipped under Stan's waistband. Stanley was a mess, sopping wet for him and Ford would spend hours licking it all up if Stan hadn't asked to be filled.

Two of his fingers grazed Stanley's soaked enterance and Stanley keened. "M' ready, m'ready - please, Stanford--" Ford pulled his own boxers down and rubbed Stan's slick onto his skin before grabbing Stan's legs to put on his shoulders.

Stanford put his thumbs on either side of Stanley's hole to watch it stretch, watch a little bit of clear fluid burble out. Stan whined under him. "It's gonna hurt, Stanley, I'm telling you."

"Then hurt me." Stanley demanded.

Ford lined himself up and pushed into Stan's feverish warmth. He keened, feeling Stan all around him, slick dripping down into two puddles under them, close enough to merge. He took a breath while Stanley shivered and moaned.

"Move - damn it Sixer gimme all of it--" Ford pulled out and thrust back in again, the smack sounded in the room and both omegas groaned.

"Perfect - g-god Stanley, my perfect little omega - fuck. Gon-gonna full you up, fill you up with my pups - gotta - god - gotta let the world know they lost the perfect omega to an-another fucking omega." Stanley yelped when Ford found his prostate, grinding against if for all he was worth.

"S-Six - gotta - gonna--" Stan sobbed.

"I've gotcha, I've - Stanley." Ford whined, taking one of his hands off Stan's hips to run over his own hole, wetting his fingers in his own sopping mess. "I'm close."

"Please - please--!" Ford shoved two fingers in alongside his dick as his orgasm peaked, and Stan squealed on his pseudo-knot while he came himself. Ford kissed the fresh tears from Stan's face and waited for Stan to come down before gently easing his fingers out.

Stanley's arms wrapped fully around him in a crushing embrace the second Ford was out of him, and his own more practiced purr rumbled them both out of consciousness.

[nowimjustastranger]

possible fic request: chap 2/3 ford pov of you look like yourself (but you’re somebody else) when he sees stan/saves him from the creatures/patches him up? whatever works best

Ford crouched on top of a large rock that protruded from the sand, his eyes vigilantly sweeping over the expanse of desert as he sipped from his water canteen. Most of the wildlife on this planet resided underground so the ability to see had been bred out of most species, replaced with sensors that could detect vibration.

Delta/R3 wasn’t the worst dimension that Ford had traveled through, nor was it the most dangerous.

Ford paused when he saw something move in the distance, half hidden by another boulder. He tapped the side of his goggles to zoom in on the area of interest, brows furrowing when he saw a pair of human legs sticking out from behind the rock. Ford shifted as far over as he could while remaining on his perch, screwing the cap back onto his water canteen before stuffing it into his pack.

The legs shifted again, boots digging into the sand as the knees drew up to brace under an equally human torso. Ford had been consuming plenty of water and even started eating semi-regularly between doses of his meal replacement pills again, so he highly doubted what he was seeing was a result of a hallucination. Still, Ford did a quick recon of his body to be certain that he could trust his eyes.

It quickly became apparent that he was in perfect health save for some lost sleep, which meant that there was an actual human being in this wasteland with him. Ford widened his stance, pressing a hand to the rock to keep his balance, his free hand rapidly tapping the side of goggles to enhance the image. He caught a brief glimpse of grown out brown hair and an arm before a Guux descended upon its unsuspecting prey.

Ford hadn’t even seen it emerge from its burrow, as focused on the human as he was.

The scream that cut through the air had Ford’s body lunging off its perch before his brain could even register that he recognized that sound, hitting the ground running. He jammed his finger against the side of the goggles to reduce the zoom so his depth perception wouldn’t be off, his other hand drawing his gun. He couldn’t get a clear shot with the boulder in the way, so he adjusted his course to a wide arc.

Ford’s finger froze on the trigger when he cleared the rock and saw just who was dangling from the Guux’s jaws, his heart leaping into his throat at the sheer amount of red that covered both Stanley and the surrounding area. There was far too much blood outside of Stanley’s body, which jerked when the Guux began to retreat back to its burrow with its meal.

Ford heard a choked cry and it was due to muscle memory that he was able to react as quickly as he did, his hand smoothly correcting his aim before he squeezed the trigger. Ford had to lock his knees to keep from rushing to Stanley when he dropped from the Guux’s mouth, hitting the ground in an unmoving heap. Ford’s vision tunneled on Stanley as the Guux roared at him, silently willing his brother to show some sign of life.

After what felt like an eternity –but was really only a second or so– Stanley moved, weakly pushing himself up. The Guux twitched when it sensed Stanley’s movement and Ford fired two more shots before it could go for Stanley a second time. The Guux twitched as it toppled over to lay in a rapidly growing puddle of its own acrid yellow blood, sending up a plume of sand that obscured Ford’s view of his brother.

Ford prowled forward, sidestepping the Guux’s corpse as the cloud of sand was broken apart by the wind, revealing the familiar face of his teenage brother. Ford would assume he was seventeen if not for the hair, but he couldn’t possibly be any older than twenty. Ford leveled his gun with Stanley’s chest when the teen pushed himself back a bit, forcing his hand to remain steady.

Ford crept closer at a controlled pace so he could dodge at a moment’s notice, searching for any indication that this was some kind trap meant to lure him into a false sense of security. And, if it was a facade, it was a good one. Ford couldn’t find any deformities or imperfections that would reveal that this was indeed just an elaborate plot with the end goal of killing him.

So that left the suddenly very real possibility that he was currently holding his brother at gunpoint.

Stanley was talking, saying something, but Ford couldn’t hear it over the heartbeat thundering in his ears. But this wasn’t the time nor place for a breakdown, he had to compartmentalize and keep moving. Stopping meant death or worse, especially out in the open. Even so, Ford was undeniably compromised and Stanley needed immediate medical attention.

But one last test first. He had to be sure.

Ford swiftly closed the distance between them as a bitten-off shout emitted from Stanley when he foolishly tried to gesticulate, Ford swallowing the impulse to scold him for forgetting the fact that his arm and shoulder were more shredded meat than functional limb at the moment. Ford’s stomach rolled at the comparison, startling him. Ford hadn’t been squeamish since he was still a child, so feeling nausea outside of contracting an illness was a novel experience.

Stanley’s wild eyes darted down to Ford’s hand when it slipped into the inner pocket of his trench coat to retrieve the DNA reader, telegraphing his movement as he extended the device with the intention of taking some blood that was leaking from Stanley’s wound. However, Ford wasn’t exactly surprised when Stanley twisted away, shielding the wounded limb as best he could under the circumstances.

Ford’s finger tightened on the trigger automatically, causing the gun to charge in an upward crescendo that had Stanley’s face going alarmingly pale as he obediently stilled. Ford carefully relaxed his finger as he collected a sample of blood, the wind abruptly dying down as if the universe itself were holding its breath. Ford split his attention between the device and Stanley as the compartment snapped shut, braced for the worst.

The screen lit up and Ford’s mind went blank, staring down at the results in disbelief.

Stanley Filbrick Pines – Dimension M55”0

[matcha-milkies]

LOVE? ACTUALLY?

Summary: In which Mabel and Ford are both aromantic, and neither of them has the vocabulary to express it.

A sequel to “Well, You Did Ask.”

Relationships: Ford Pines & Mabel Pines, Ford Pines & Stan Pines, Bill Cipher/Ford Pines (Mentioned), Pacifica Northwest/Dipper Pines (Mentioned)

Tags: Humor, Family Bonding, Past Relationships, Advice

Word Count: 1,584

Link to AO3: Here

A/N: I once saw a post talking about how Mabel could be aromantic because she seems really in love with the idea of being in love and picks a lot of random people to have crushes on, and as an aro person that felt SCARILY familiar lol so here you go.

Ford is aro gay <3

“Ugh.” Mabel draped herself over the arm of the couch like a piece of laundry, stomach down, long hair flopping. “I can’t believe I’m 15 and still single! I’m never gonna get a long-term boyfriend!”

Ford, who had been preparing himself tea in the kitchen nearby, poked his head into the room, as though to ascertain whether his great niece was talking to him. They were the only two in the shack right now, aside from Waddles, so it was a 50-50 chance. 

Well, maybe 25-75. In Waddles’s favor.

“Grunkle Ford,” she lifted herself a little and drew back the curtain of her hair so that her eyes peeked through, “when did you first get serious with someone?”

Despite being addressed directly, Ford still glanced over his shoulder to make sure there wasn’t anyone behind him, perhaps some alternate-dimension Stanford Pines who was better equipped to answer such a question. “Serious?” He tugged at the collar of his sweater as obscenely equilateral imagery flashed across the backs of his eyelids. “W-Well, I suppose it depends on what you define as serious.”

“I dunno, I guess it’s serious when you both agree it’s serious?” She frowned at the ceiling helplessly before slumping back over the arm of the couch. Her voice came out muffled. “I wouldn’t know. It’s not like I’ve ever been in a serious relationship.”

Tea in hand, Ford stepped more fully into the room, looking about as comfortable as he’d been at his first college party (he’d been dragged there against his will, obviously). Come on, Ford. A few sage words from her great uncle. That’s all she’s asking for. A few times, he opened his mouth to say something and then snapped it shut. Luckily, conversations with Mabel did not require much input from the second party.

“I mean, Dipper is dating Pacifica! For a whole year now! I can’t believe he beat me! How does that even happen?”

Ford chuckled a little to himself, remembering high school, when Stan had teased him for having a girlfriend before Ford did. “Well, Mabel, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. Everyone goes at their own pace.”

“Urgh! But I want a boyfriend now! I don’t wanna waaaaaait.” She kicked her feet in agitation. “Is it so much to ask? To have someone in my life who makes me feel special?”

Ford knit his brows and seated himself at the nearby table, setting his mug down. “I understand your frustration, but, Mabel, I…” The man rested his head on his hand for a few moments, contemplating how best to put it. “I fear you’re looking at this all the wrong way.”

She peered up at him, leery. “What do you mean?”

He stirred the metal spoon in his tea, lazily winding it around the ceramic rim. “If all you’re looking for is someone to make you feel special… I worry you might end up with someone who doesn’t have your best interests at heart.”

“Oh, Grunkle Ford, I’ll be fine.”

He had started talking before she even finished her last word. “I’m serious. You have to be careful who you give yourself to. You become so desperate not to feel alone that you-you rush into things blindly, without thinking, without stopping to consider the ulterior motives your partner might have, and before you know it—”

“Hey! I don’t do any of those things,” Mabel protested, even though she very much did do all of those things in that exact order, and also even though Ford had not been talking about her.

“My- My point is,” he went on, taking a steadying breath, “you shouldn’t settle for less. One way or another, you’ll find special people to be in your life. I know it’s not quite what you’re looking for, but you’ve already got a wonderful brother.”

Mabel flopped onto her back and stretched the skin beneath her eye in distress. “But what if he marries Pacifica and I barely see him anymore? I’ll have nobody!”

“Dipper cares for you very deeply, Mabel. I doubt the two of you will ever drift apart.”

“Mmmmm,” Mabel groaned.

“But let’s say hypothetically you did,” Ford proposed. “You’d still have me and Stanley. You’d have your friends, your parents. Waddles, of course. And any number of new friends that you’re going to make in the coming years. I of all people can’t guarantee that relationships won’t fall to pieces. What I do know is that there’s always someone waiting for you on the other side, if you’re willing to let them in.”

“Aww… I guess that is kind of sweet.” She finally rearranged herself so that she was sitting normally. “Say, Grunkle Ford, you never told me about your first serious relationship.”

“I- Oh, you don’t want to hear about that.”

“Yes I do! Come ooooon, I’m so bored! Storytime! Storytime!”

“W- I- Um.”

“Wait.” Mabel narrowed her eyes. “You’re getting all weird the way Dipper does when he has something embarrassing to hide!”

“Mabel, don’t be ridiculous. It’s just not that interesting.”

“What’s not that interesting?” asked a gruff voice from the next room over. A few seconds later, its owner popped in carrying what looked to be groceries in his arm, mostly snacks, fruits and drinks.

“Grunkle Stan! We were just talking about Grunkle Ford’s love life.” She clasped her hands together and batted her lashes.

“What?” Stan raised his brows as he set down his paper bag on the table. “You told her about Bill?”

Ford got up from his chair fully with the intent to commit fratricide. 

“WHAT!” Mabel exploded. “GRUNKLE FORD?!” She glommed onto his leg and anchored him to the ground before he could give chase. Stan wisely moved over to the fridge to look for a few beers. “WHAAAAAT?!”

Ford tried to drag her along. “Mabel! Aren’t you getting a little old to be doing this?”

“No!” She looked up at him with wide, sparkling eyes. “Now tell me everything! Everything! EVERYTHING!” She shook his leg with violence.

Stan popped a couple of bottle caps and extended one of the bottles towards his brother in gesture. “Sixer, if I come over there to give you this, you gotta promise not to try to wring my neck.”

“I can make no such promise, Stanley.”

“Okaaaay then.” Stan, ever the innovator, set the drink on the table instead and slid it over to Ford, who caught it before it could slide off the edge. He eyed it for a moment and then took a few long gulps.

“Mabel,” he sighed, glancing down to find that she was still staring up at him with puppy-dog eyes. “There’s not much to tell! He manipulated me and lied to me and then we blasted him out of Stan’s brain. The end.”

“No, no, no!” Mabel cried. “Tell me when you first realized you were falling in love with him!”

“F- Falling in—” Ford cleared his throat.

The truth was, he’d been “in love” with Bill, in a sense, from that very first moment. But that all made it sound so much more… romantic than it was. It was difficult to explain exactly what he had felt. It was intense, and it was an attraction, and at one point he might’ve thought it was love, but… “I… didn’t,” he finished lamely, as if he were just now realizing it himself.

“Come on, Grunkle Ford, the cat’s out of the bag now! You can’t lie to me anymore!”

“No, I… I really didn’t,” he went on, looking down at his empty hand. “We had a connection. A deep and intimate connection to one another. But I… I don’t think it was anything like what you’re imagining, Mabel.”

“Huh?” she blinked a few times. Even Stan seemed confused as he leaned back against the fridge.

“Hang on a second. Back on the boat you told me you were romantically involved. Those were your exact words.”

“Well, we… were?” Ford himself sounded perplexed, as though he were working out a Rubik’s Cube in real time. Of course, if this were a Rubik’s Cube he would’ve figured it out a lot faster. “At least, that’s what the understanding was at the time…”

“Uh… okay, you lost me.”

“I’m sorry. I can’t really explain it.”

“I think I get it,” Mabel said thoughtfully, and the two grunkles turned to look at her. “You thought you were in love, so you got into a relationship, but you weren’t really in love. But you still loved him. Just not in a lovey-dovey way.”

“I, uh… Well, yes… I think so,” Ford affirmed.

“Yeah, I get it. I think I did that with this guy in freshman year. We really connected, you know! But I realized I wasn’t… in love…” she finished softly, as though she were now the one deep in thought. She snapped out of it with a shrug. “Womp womp.”

“Well, there you have it,” said Stan after taking a particularly long swig. “Hey, Sixer, now all you gotta do is tell Dipper and you’ll be three for three.”

“Stanley, don’t even joke about that. I’m absolutely done talking about this.”

“Awww,” said Mabel, who had really been looking forward to squealing to her twin about it. “Double womp womp.”

“Now will you please detach from my leg?”

“Nope! We’re bonding, baby! Learning each other’s backstories and stuff! Mabel-Ford bonding time!” She threw up her hands like she was on a roller coaster, although her legs stayed wrapped around his ankle. “Woohoo!”

[ckret2]

This chapter is a whole lot of Bill and Ford talking and I couldn't think of a good illustration for it, so have a funny comic instead.

Here's chapter 9 of The Pines Have Captured Human Bill Cipher And Nobody Is Happy About It (otherwise known as Wasting Away Again in the Goldilocks Zone). Sept 13 2024 - now updated for TBOB compatibility!

####

Ford knocked on the bathroom door. "Time's up. You've had your two hours, Cipher."

There was no reply.

Ford glanced at Stan.

Stan grumbled under his breath and cracked his knuckles. "BILL!" He pounded on the door. "Either you come out of the bathroom, or we're dragging you out by your ankles!"

No reply.

"That's it," Stan snapped. Ford nodded in agreement and took a step back to cover Stan as he opened the door.

The bathroom reeked of chemically-enhanced rotten eggs. From knee-height down, every single surface in the room was plastered with curly blond hair. Behind the bath tub—naked, curled up in a ball, and hiding beneath a towel like a child—was Bill.

Stan and Ford gaped at the scene. And then they cracked up.

"Most—" Stan wheezed, "Most people just use shampoo! But hey, whatever floats your boat!"

Trying to sound stern and failing, Ford said, "I hope you plan to help clean this up."

Bill didn't reply. 

Stan coughed and pounded on his chest. "Gah. Almost choked on my dentures."

"How did you do this? I know we removed the blades from the room." Ford was glad he'd put on his boots. He picked up a bottle of hair removal cream from the bath tub and tested the weight. Almost empty. "You didn't use this on your scalp, did you? It's far too caustic to use around the face."

Stan asked, "How do you know?"

"I've experimented with many shaving techniques, Stanley."

Bill didn't reply.

"Bill?" Ford's smile faded. "Did you burn yourself?" If he was burned badly enough, that was an infection risk—the last thing they needed was to haul their prisoner to a doctor...

He took another step toward Bill. Bill tightened his arms around his knees and retreated further into the corner. And still he said nothing.

####

Stan and Ford agreed that dragging Bill's naked butt out of the bathroom wouldn't do anything to help protect Gravity Falls from the horrible alien triangle menace, and also wouldn't make them feel particularly noble; so they left the door open, told Bill to get dressed and get out, Stan went back to bed, and Ford sat in the attic window seat to wait.

It took almost thirty minutes before Ford heard Bill trudging upstairs. He had dressed, thank goodness, but still had the towel draped over his head, like a Victorian widow in a mourning veil. Ford wondered if it was bad to find the sight of his obvious distress so funny, or if the fact that it was Bill made it okay.

Bill got close enough to his window seat nest to spy Ford's boots from beneath his towel, veered off to the side, and curled up in a corner of the attic.

"Well," Ford said, to say something; and then drew a blank. Finally, he said, "The next time you claim you're out of practice at a basic human task, I'll believe you."

Ford could have sworn he heard the towel-covered lump hiss like a leaky tire. Had he gotten a laugh?

The ice broken, Ford went on: "Are you injured? That stuff can burn even when used correctly. And—you did not use it correctly."

No response.

"Just—why did you—why?"

No response.

"Say something so I know I don't have to call an ambulance and tell them you're in shock." Ford did not relish the idea of explaining a mysterious woman with no ID to a hospital.

Apparently, neither did Bill, because he muttered, "I don't need medical assistance." And then, "So I didn't want hair. Baldness isn't a sin. Get off my back."

"That's a heck of a way to get rid of it."

"Yeah, wow, I guess so. I wonder why I didn't just use a razor."

"You could have... You could have asked for a shave."

Bill let out another tire-wheeze laugh. At the thought of asking for help, or at the thought that he'd have received it?

"Bill—"

"Go away."

Ford frowned; but he got up, headed downstairs, and shut the bathroom door as he passed so Bill couldn't go back in.

And a few minutes later, came back with a sandwich made out of the first odds and ends he could find in the fridge, and a six pack of hard apple cider. "Here." He set the plate and six pack on the floor near Bill. "Mrs. Ramirez hasn't touched it, I promise."

Bill didn't move, not even to see what food Ford had brought.

Ford shifted his footing nervously, his common sense insisting that he'd demonstrated all the decency he was obliged to and that it was time to go; and then he sat down again on the window seat. "Listen," he said. "Bill." (He shouldn't be doing this, he shouldn't be talking to Bill Demon-Triangle Dimension-Destroyer Cipher, eternal nemesis, ruiner of Ford's life, threatener of his family; but right now, it was hard to see Bill Cipher beneath the hurting human.) "I've—been here before. I know what it's like to—to be trapped in an alien dimension, surrounded by hostile locals, with no way home." He tried not to think about the fact that Bill was the main reason Ford had been trapped, or that Ford was now one of the hostile locals, or that the locals (and Ford especially) had a damn good reason to be hostile to Bill, or that they all didn't want Bill to get home. He was kind of curious find out where the heck he was going with this conversation. "I know what that... grief is like."

Ford thought it might be an insult to suggest Bill was capable of grief; but Bill didn't twitch. Ford went on. "I know how tempting it is to—to ignore everything but the fight ahead. Never mind hot food, shelter, showers, fresh clothes, a comfortable bed. Luxuries you can tend to when your work is done. But—a fire can't keep burning without fuel and fresh air. Depriving yourself those 'luxuries' doesn't turn you into some ascetic warrior-monk. It simply... burns you out. It makes it that much harder to achieve anything." Ford shrugged. "I—learned that the hard way."

He tried not to think about the fact that Bill had been the fight Ford had burned himself out for. Or the fact that Bill no doubt saw Ford as his fight. Or the fact that Ford didn't want Bill to achieve anything. He immediately regretted the decision to find out where he was going with this conversation. What was he doing?

Voice muffled, Bill said, "You think you're the only person who's ever had to get used to an alien dimension before?"

And Ford remembered—a moment too late—that Bill had destroyed his home. It was so easy to take that information, the horrific enormity of it, and stop there; but follow the implications one step further, and that meant Ford had never once seen Bill in his own dimension. As long as Ford had known him and billions of times longer, Bill had been a stranger in a strange land. Ford should write off this conversation as a loss and leave.

"This isn't my first rodeo," Bill said. "But hey, thanks for coming back up just to patronize me. It's really what I needed tonight."

To hell with leaving. Ford wasn't letting Bill get the last word in after he'd tried to do something nice. "This is your first time being a human in an alien dimension," Ford pointed out. "You said it yourself earlier—I've bathed hundreds of times since you last did. As an energy being, you've never had to make time for regular showers, or sleep, or exercise, or..." He almost said food but paused. He'd seen Bill eat as a triangle. Was that fun or necessity? Never mind. "You probably think those chores are beneath you—but your body needs them whether you like it or not."

Bill laughed harshly. "Wow, this is rich coming from Dr. Food Pills who bathes monthly."

"Hey! I've improved since my postdoc days and if you were half the stalker I know you are you'd know that!"

Bill didn't argue; he just changed his angle of attack and muttered, "'Eat better and bathe more,' says the guy who locked me out of the fridge and bathroom."

"I—" Well. Ford couldn't really argue with that. And he didn't regret it. "I know it's... not an ideal situation." The opportunity hung in the air for an and I'm sorry, and Ford self-consciously hurried past it. It was the thing one said in these situations, but it wasn't true. He wasn't sorry, he shouldn't be sorry, Bill was here on death row. "But I'm just trying to..." The sentence died. Why, exactly, was he trying to help Bill?

"Why would I want any help from you?" Bill's voice was venomous; and under the circumstances, Ford couldn't fault him for that. "Even if you didn't kill me and capture me! For all your talk of needing shelter and comfort when you're stuck in another dimension—you never accepted any help from me. But you think I can't take care of myself?"

Ford stared at Bill. (Not that there was much to stare at, except the top of a towel.) "I never accep—? You never offeredany help!" Not that he would have accepted it if Bill had, but just the outrageous suggestion that Bill had been—what?—charitably offering interdimensional refugee services that Ford had stubbornly turned down—?

"I never got the chance! You dove into the first wormhole you could find—you didn't even bother to say 'hi'!"

"Why would I say 'hi' after everything you—! Plus, you placed a bounty on my head! Within thirty seconds of my arrival!"

"So I got excited!" Bill uncurled just enough to shrug. "Anyway, the bounty was to bring you to me alive! C'mon, Stanford, I know you steered away from the frats in college, but you know what a little friendly hazing is, right?"

Flabbergasted, Ford echoed, "'Hazing'?" And then, even more disbelieving, "'Friendly'?"

"Sure!" One eye, almost luminescent in the shadows beneath the towel, peered over Bill's knees. As if Bill was as baffled as Ford and needed to see him for himself. "You built us a portal, you got cast out of your dimension into ours—you were gonna get a hero's welcome! You'd joined the gang! You were one of us!"

"I'd—spent weeks trying to stop you!"

"So?"

Ford gaped. Bill was a liar, he reminded himself—a liar, a manipulator, and a conman. He'd say anything to portray himself however he thought most useful. Ford remembered arriving in the Nightmare Realm. He'd relived it over and over—in hundreds, if not thousands of nightmares. "That was no welcome party. You were surrounded by an army of monsters."

"Hey, those are my pals you're talking about!" Bill laughed—a sincere, easy sound. It was unnerving, how real that laugh sounded. "Hate to point out the obvious, Sixer, but you've got a handshake that '30s Hollywood woulda designed a whole movie monster around. Who are you to judge appearances!"

Ford's thoughts flashed briefly to the Glass Shard Beach freak show he'd met as a child—the humans who'd called themselves "monsters" and who'd called Ford their "abnormal ally," the frightening friendly freaks who'd welcomed him warmly. He pushed the thought away. Bill wasn't running some kind of weirdo sanctuary; he thought making Ford think he was would win him some sympathy. "You were sitting on a throne. Made out of optical illusions. Like a self-appointed tyrant."

"Oh! You noticed my throne!" Bill's head lifted a little more. "Hey, I got that custom made! It's upholstered with the torn fabric of reality! Say, did it look three-dimensional to you? I'm told it looks 3D if you cross your eyes just right, but, well, you need two eyes to cross 'em."

"Wh—" Ford blinked, trying to remember what the throne had looked like. "Was it... not 3D?"

"No way! Do you have any idea what it'd cost to upholster a whole extra dimension in the fabric of reality? I'm not about to drop that kind of gold on a feature I wouldn't even use!" Bill grinned up at Ford. All Ford could see was the one eye and his teeth. "But hey, if you couldn't even tell the difference—I guess the autostereogram detailing was worth it!"

And Ford thought, he means it. Bill, mad thing he was, never thought that being Ford's friend and destroying Ford's universe were mutually incompatible. When he'd arrived in the Nightmare Realm, Bill hadn't been hunting him, he'd been welcoming him. Lounging on his stupid tacky throne, hanging out with his terrible friends, feigning a punch at the new guy to make him flinch before laughing and inviting him to the party. And Ford—sleep-deprived, terrified, paranoid—hadn't seen it.

And then Ford thought, he's lying. It was over thirty years ago—thirty-one, technically (time ticks ever on)—and Bill could say anything he wanted about what he would have done if he'd caught Ford, because he hadn't caught him. Today, Bill probably thought his comfort, if not his very survival, was dependent upon convincing his captors that he was so much less a threat than they thought he was. It's all a harmless misunderstanding! It was no misunderstanding and Bill wasn't harmless.

Ford got to his feet. "We remember that day very differently."

Bill's smile faded into the dark. "Yeah. Guess so." And then his eye disappeared as well as he curled in on himself and vanished under the towel. That wasn't like him. Ford had expected at least a little gaslighting.

Strange body in a strange land. And a recent death (metaphorical or literal, Ford still wasn't sure). Of course Bill was more subdued than usual.

Ford told himself not to worry about Bill. (He was unnerved that he had to tell himself.)

"Well." He gestured vaguely at the sandwich, decided against doing something nice like reminding Bill he needed to eat, and said, "Don't waste food."

He mentally chided himself as he walked downstairs. He'd been careless; he'd almost let his guard down in front of a friend who'd betrayed him. He'd been nice to Bill. He'd tried to encourage Bill to take better care of himself—when Ford was plotting to kill him, for crying out loud! Why? Because the human body made him forget this was Bill? No. Because Bill had tricked Ford into seeing him as a friend again, for just a moment, talking about parties and pals and—of all things—his stupid upholstery? Also no; that had come after Ford had offered compassion. It would have been nice if Ford could have blamed Bill. He'd like to think that he was being manipulated; it would free him from any personal culpability. But Bill hadn't done anything—except look miserable.

And that didn't line up with how Ford remembered Bill. Maybe that was what had thrown him off? But—he wasn't sure. Ford had spent thirty years with his thoughts spiraling around Bill, and now it was hard to think about Bill at all without second-guessing every thought that passed through his head. He was a recovering Cipherholic—and the fastest way to fall off the wagon was getting exposed to your addiction. He'd have to ask Stan for a reality check.

Another question gnawed at him as he kicked off his boots and climbed back into bed. When he'd been cast from his dimension, the portal was still functional, just uncharged. There was nothing Ford could do from within the Nightmare Realm to either reactivate or destroy the portal. Bill had seemed in too good a humor to have had punishment on his mind; and since Ford had been both useless and unthreatening, Bill probably hadn't wanted to recruit him for his help or eliminate him for Bill's safety.

So what had Bill wanted him for?

What had Bill wanted him for?

He'd probably just wanted to kill him. For no particular reason. For fun. Bill didn't need any other reason, Bill was insane.

Ford tried to convince himself that was true.

####

Bill had gotten careless. He almost let his guard down around a friend who'd betrayed him.

He couldn't really blame himself. He was a consummate extrovert with nobody to talk to. Captivity in and of itself was bad enough; but without his friends, he was... bored. That was the word. Bored.

But he was fine.

Bill's stomach ached. He peered at the food Ford had brought.

After a moment, he dragged over the six pack and popped out a can of cider. Nothing better to prove he was fine than some good old I'm Fine Juice.

That bathroom could be useful. He'd never be trusted in there for two hours unsupervised again, but if he mastered the art of the ten-minute shower and claimed he still needed an hour, that would give him some uninterrupted privacy. He could work a little magic in that time, even if he was limited to human capabilities. Most local female humans wore makeup, Melody probably kept hers in the bathroom; and in a pinch, there was toothpaste and shampoo; he could write with those. You could get a lot done with two mirrors, running water, a writing tool, and a human body full of blood.

Maybe he could call for help. Acquiring the supplies to get a call through to Hectorgon or Amorphous Shape would be difficult, much less calling any of his outerplanar pals; but Kryptos kept a psychic line open in dimension 46'\, if Bill got his hands on some candles he could reach him. At least, assuming Kryptos bothered to pick up the call. Bill hated the thought that his fate rested on whether or not the most annoying person in the multiverse felt like taking a call from an unknown number, but what could he do about it? If he could just reach the mindscape, this would be so much easier—

No, that wasn't quite accurate. He could reach the mindscape. He dreamed. He just... couldn't control it.

This body clamped onto his soul like an iron maiden. He couldn't just shed it like an old coat, the way he'd always effortlessly moved in and out of physical bodies before. He'd tried, curled up in the window for hours at a time, meditating silently, reaching for that point where he quietly detached from his borrowed form—but never grasping it. A couple of times the effort had exhausted him into falling asleep.

He knew his way in and out of human bodies—along with plenty of other earthling bodies and the bodies of aliens from countless dimensions. Leaving it should have been easy. There was no good reason for him to still be stuck.

But there were plenty of bad ones.

Three possibilities: thanks to the unconventional way he'd left the Theraprism, his power was still sealed away (if not removed entirely), and he was simply too weak to disentangle himself from this body's neurons; the reincarnation process had fully turned his soul from a triangle into a human; or, something about the Theraprism's machine locked souls into their new bodies. Maybe to keep the newly-rehabilitated from immediately shedding their body and returning to their old ways.

A lock that simply needed to be picked would be the best option—but with his limited powers, it was also the hardest to identify except via process of elimination. He could start by figuring out humans' own techniques for controlling their dreams and shedding their bodies and see if that helped him. (Part of him hoped it wouldn't. If it did, it would be all the more likely that he really was just a human—the worst possible option.) He was sure Ford had done some reading on astral projection at Bill's suggestion, maybe he still had those books somewhere. Bill couldn't just ask for them. Ford wouldn't trust Bill with them.

Not yet, anyway. But with time...?

Ford's little visit had been unexpectedly encouraging. He'd been a fool to ever offer Ford freedom and power instead of leaning on humans' soft spot for vulnerability. The whole woe-is-me routine was clearly working. Even if Ford had probably only pitied him because...

Under the towel, Bill's scalp burned. He could feel the alien contours of his head.

Never mind, never mind, never mind. This was all part of his strategy. This was his plan.

The point was—he thought, for just a moment, he'd gotten a glimpse again of the Ford that was his friend.

Bill could use that.

He'd keep working on Ford, softening him up. Ford had already brought food. Rookie mistake. So few humans realized that once they'd done one favor for someone, they'd set themselves up to make every favor after that a little bit easier. Bill would have Stanford Pines wrapped around his finger again in no time.

And until he'd worked his way back up to big favors, it might be nice to have someone to play chess with again. He was bored. He missed his friends.

He missed home.

He missed himself.

A lump formed in his throat. 

To drown it, he popped open the first can of cider, chugged it in several large gulps, and reached for the second.

####

(This is sort of the first chapter we've had to slow down since this fic started, so let me know what y'all think!)

[fordtato]

The Gravity Falls Timeline

All of this is based on my video, but I assume not many people will want to sit through 2.5 hours of me working this out, so here's a condensed written version.

Some rules I set for myself: If the actual name of an IP, a person or an event is referenced in J3/the Show, I included it into my math for my timeline (ex: references to Ronald Reagan or The Eurythmics, or other REAL WORLD figures). If a REFERENCE is made without the actual name being referenced (ex: in the Journal, Ford mentions Phantom Bustifiers, a reference to Ghostbusters, a movie that didn’t come out in our world until 1984), I did not put that into this timeline (I know what year Ghostbusters came out, but not which year Phantom Bustifiers came out).

With that in mind, let’s begin:

The Stans are born June 15 1951.

Evidence: 

Their Bar Mitzvah happened when they were 12 (not 13, as is typical) and their birthday is on June 15th. Because a Bar Mitzvah is dependent on one’s birthday on the Hebrew calendar and not the Gregorian calendar, this means that their 13th Hebrew birthday must land on a date that is BEFORE their 13th Gregorian birthday, something that is typically more rare (the Hebrew birthday is usually AFTER one’s typically celebrated birthday).

The only viable year where this applies is 1951, when their birthday lands on Sivan 11, resulting in a 13th Hebrew birthday in May of 1964, BEFORE their 13th birthday on June 15th

The Stans find the Stan O War in spring of 1964 at age 12 (or 1961, if you think they were 10)

Evidence:

There are two viable dates for when they find the Stan o War, depending on if they’re 10 (the same age Stan was when he started writing Lil Stanley in the Lost Legends comics) or 12 (the same age as Dipper and Mabel). I think that the way the artist drew the young Stan twins in the Lil Stanley comic looks (age 10) looks slightly younger than how they look in the series (and they are designed a little differently than they look in the Jersey Devil comic, when we KNOW they have the Stan O War already), but there is evidence for both sides.

I lean toward them being 12 because they pull out a sharpie, which wasn’t invented until 64, but there is a reference to a Bruce Springsteen song in a magazine in Lost Legends, quoted by someone named “Brucey S, age 11” and Bruce Springsteen would have been 11 in 1961, so this might be 1961 (or the magazine Ford is reading from might be an old magazine.) I went with 1964, because I think 12 parallelled the ages of Dipper and Mabel better. 

Stan gets kicked out in spring of 1969 right before they turned 18. Ford starts at Backupsmore in the fall semester.

Evidence: 

Stan makes a reference to Jackie O, which means Jackie Kennedy already remarried to be Jackie Onnassis, and is also still in the public eye, something that would be progressively less common after 1969 (she also happened to visit New Jersey in spring of 1969 and that would have made state headlines, something which is probably a coincidence, but nonetheless very interesting).

Furthermore, there is a portrait of Nixon in the principal’s office, and he would have been sworn in in early 1969. 

I think 1969 is more likely than 1970 because ‘69 gives more wiggle room for Shermie to be the baby (more on that later) and for Ford to get at least one PhD.

-Stan dates Carla “Hotpants” McCorkle,(reconnecting for another date after the one at the theater in their teenage years), probably in 1971 (if this “hallucinatey” date even happened at all; if you dont think it happened at all, disregard). 

Evidence:

We know this is a later date, when stan is an adult, because his design matches the designs on one of his fake IDs from his years on the run. It was likely 1971 because that is when the term “hotpants” was used to describe those short shorts.

The hippie aesthetic also started dying down after 1972 after the Manson attacks, so I picked 71 for the Juke Joint date.

Ford graduated from Backupsmore at the very earliest 1974, MAYBE early 1975.

Evidence:

In the journal it says he went to Gravity Falls in 1975, but we know he couldn’t have graduated earlier than 74, because we know that he played DDnMoreD in college, and he says in the journal that it was copyrighted in 1974. He also says Stanley always mocked him for playing it, which literally isn’t possible, so he’s either misremembering Stanley mocking him for an EARLIER TTRPG, or this copyright is for a later edition (though I think it must be the former, since DDnMD is a clear reference to DnD which WAS copyrighted in 1974. Still. Up to you.)

This means he completed his PhD in 6 years (or, three years ahead of schedule as described in the series). I believe many of his other PhDs were honorary degrees, and didn't bother working them into this timeline. He got them later.

Stan joins Rico’s gang in the late 70s

Evidence: 

Sometime in the late 70s, Stan gets tangled up in what is implied to be the Colombian cartel, which would have been most active in the late 70s, between 75 and 79. Following his trajectory on the map in ATOTS showing his path across the country, he headed below the border toward the end of that trackline, so it was probably later on.

Ford started Journal 3 in 1981, shortly after meeting Bill in 1981. 

Evidence: 

He says he discovered his muse in 1981 in J3. He also says he is starting J3 six years after he started investigating Gravity Falls (which he did in 75). He also says early on in J3 that he is in his 30s, and he would have turned 30 in June of 1981, three days before he started J3.

There is some fuckery here on how he’s known his muse for “two years” midway J3, and the way I explain that in the video is that the first part of J3 spans nearly 2 years, and there is ample evidence that he wrote many pages out of order. This might be a page from later on in 1982, early 83, instead of mid-81. 

We know that Reagan was already in office at this point.

 Fiddleford shows up in July of 1982. Fiddleford begins making the memory gun after the Gremloblin incident later that year. 

Evidence:

We know at least a year has passed because if you track the months, they go from June, to August, and then later on down to July again when Fiddleford is called. As for the Gremloblin incident, it happened relatively close to the bunker incident (which would have been closer to summer, since it was still hot outside) but it was followed closely by the carnival, where they had squash for sale, and squash are in season after September, typically. 

First Portal Test is on January 18, 1983

Fiddleford falls through the portal, his head poking through, on January 18 1983, the day after the confrontation he had with Ford in the diner. 

Late February, 1983 - The Portal Incident

Evidence:

There are three many reasons I chose this date. Firstly, we know it is 1983 not just because it follows the trajectory of earlier dates, but because we know that Ford has heard The Eurythmics’ chart topper “Sweet Dreams Are Made of This” because when he returns he says he is looking forward to their next one, and that came out in January of 83’, before he would have been sucked through.

Secondly, five weeks after January 18th, it would still be snowy in up-mountain Oregon where Ford is, but not that snowy in New Mexico where Stan is when he gets the post card.

Thirdly, we know at least 5-6 weeks have passed because Ford describes about this many weeks during his “paranoid era” in the journal (more than one instance of “a couple weeks, several weeks, a few weeks”, etc.). 

In the year 2000, Dipper and Mabel are born. 

Evidence:

I know most people think it’s 1999. And that is fine, but I have ample evidence that the show takes place in 2013, not 2012 (see below), so 2000 would have to work for their birthday.

But 2000 also gives a little bit of wiggle room to Shermie being the baby. (If you don’t think Shermie is the baby, disregard this section). If Shermie IS the baby, then if he was born in spring of 1969 (late 68 at the earliest), then you can barely fit two generations of Pines in the space between 1969 and 2000. It would mean that both Shermie and his kid would need to be 15 when they had a kid, which is … not great, but not impossible? I dunno man, take it up with Hirsch. (Or just assume the baby is Shermie’s kid. Follow your dreams).

In 2013, Dipper and Mabel visit their Grunkle Stan in Gravity Falls. 

Evidence: 

The Northwest ghost died in what is described in the journal as “The Great Flood of 1863”. The Northwests are trying to keep this flood under wraps in J3, because they don’t want people finding out about the lumberjacks killed in the flood. The Northwest Ghost swore with his dying breath to come back 150 yrs after his death. 150 years later from 1863, is 2013.

The 1040 form that Stan is filling out his Tax Fraud note on in the truth-telling ep is a 2012 form. To file tax returns, you use w2s 1040s labeled under the PREVIOUS year

Sevral Timez shouts "2013"

1983 is 30 years before 2013. 

Note: This would mean that the Stans are 62 at the end of the summer, which might mean that they are "pushing 70" as Stan describes himself.

Anyways, here's the full video if you have 2.5 hours. Otherwise, enjoy this resource!