gemallass

[gemallass]

Stanford's plushie collection

Been scoundering the web for plushies I think Ford would like and came up with these results (warning: lots of images under the readmore):

Let's start with a classic, a teddy bear!

He is 3'3ft / 1m tall and he is Ford's oldest furry buddy! His sidekick. He carries it everywhere and often sleeps with it, using it like a pillow at times <3

A little visual on heights:

(Stanford's height isn't 100% confirmed I think but that was the most agreed upon height from what I've seen. Also random-ish name for the plushie)

Since he likes moths, how about a little one of these guys? It might not be 100% accurate but I think he would like it anyway <3. He sits it on his lap and pets it, enjoy the fluffness, or just sits it close to him while he plays.

But here's also a few more accurate ones!

And the fandom always pairs/associates him with owls so...

How about any of these? The wings can be moved a little too :)

And we can't forget a very special little guy!

He LOVED the plaidypus. Imagine he receives one as a gift (maybe from Fiddleford? He knows how to knit, maybe some of the skill can translate to plushie making? Of course, it's not the same, but he has a bit more of an advantage I guess), pattern and all, and he's over the moon. Another little buddy for him :)

Oh and speaking of companions...

A familiar of Frilliam :). He also has some jammies + can glow in the dark!

Extra: Spacey Frilliam with glowey frills

Bonus plush: Someone said they imagined Ford having a weighted goose/duck plush which I thought was cute <3

Another furry bud that lays down with him <3

[gemallass]

Ford feeling tiny while he's sick 🥺♥️. Poor bub mostly sleeps the day away in a nest of blankets with all his plushies around him 🥺♥️♥️♥️.

He's a little weepy and sniffly, and it's not only due to the sickness. He wants to play, but he can't keep his eyes open long enough and keeps on falling asleep at random, so he just hides under his blanket and babbles to his furry friends a little. Furthermore, he also really would like a hug.

I think Stan also would just let him sleep as much as he wanted and just wake him up once in a while to bring him meds and/or food.

But if bub wants company, he gets his showman mode activated in a matter of seconds and sits beside him to tell him any stories that come to mind. Some real, some made up, some a mix of both and some others that he isn't so sure with his faulty memory, but it works in distracting his (currently) baby brother, so, that's a win.

Or he carries him to the couch in the living room, and they watch cartoons together. Stanley is in for a treat because if Ford is clingy in general when regressed, it gets even more intense when he's also sick. He just accepts his fate as a pillow and puts an arm around his brother for security.

Ford probably falls asleep midway through, poor bub is beyond exhausted with everything, but no biggie. Stanley likes the cartoons anyway.

[gemallass]

Been thinking about Ford putting off/not wanting to regress because X, Y and Z.

Maybe he is in the middle of documenting a huge discovery, filled with excitement that has him working overtime for days, and with it comes the "pushing aside the fuzzy feeling on his chest" act.

Why? Because, while he still could hold a pencil perfectly fine when he was in the soft headspace, there were some noticeable changes when it came to putting ideas into paper.

His handwriting wasn't as pristine (inconsistencies in letter shape/lenght/size in some words) as usual and his drawing habilities took less of a "toll" but they still looked "messier" in his eyes. Or at least messier in comparasion to what he would like to use/present on his investigation papers.

And he also struggled to keep focus when the pencil was in his hand, along with a mighty need to color everything. Again, not something he wanted displayed on his work.

Or if it were something such as handling a screwdriver his fingers often didn't cooperate with him. His grip becoming more unstable. Or maybe it was just his coordination skills that took a hit. Either way, he avoided doing anything mechanical while he was regressed.

So he pushes the need aside and carries on.

Maybe he had been having a bad streak of days. From experiments gone wrong, some leaving bruises and cuts on his body, others more on his pride, to unnecesarily rude companions he had the misfortune of crossing paths with, or just plain unluckyness such as being in the wrong place at the wrong time and thus getting rained on when he was miles away from home.

Such silly thing shouldn't have bothered him that much, but it did, because he got sick. After developing a fever and a headache that split his skull open he had every right to be annoyed, if he says so himself.

Granted, he had been feeling a little off for a while. He had found himself with a solid pressure between his brows and an interesting unsteadyness on his feet when he stood up. And then later little white dots came onto his vision when he bent over to fetch his boots, and the unsteadyness increased even more, though momentarily.

. . .

Perhaps he shouldn't have been so quick in classifying it as just a mere inconvenience that would be fixed during his already planned walk into the heart of the forest. But the fresh air, warm sun and nature's rich and diverse melody's catalog surely would help!

Except the sky fell down (methaporically speaking) a few minutes after he had reached his destination.

. . .

But come on now! A little water couldn't bring him down! He had been on the wild in way worse climates for 3 decades while also fighting off not-so-friendly beings and he soldiered on!

But it did.

And he was pissed.

He could have used the opportunity there to regress since it's not like he would have been able to do much in that condition, if the pounding on his head was of any indication.

There had been some "slip ups" even. The most obvious being when he woke up hugging his pillow to his chest, perhaps yearning for the hug of a furry friend, and with his fingers against his mouth.

Each time, he stopped the action, and each time, he felt a pang in his heart at being deprived of such comfort.

He didn't want to. He didn't. Not yet.

He couldn't.

He had enough fuzzying being done to him already, he didn't want to "add" to it. He could take care of himself. He would take care of himself. He didn't deserve need the help.

So, once again, he resists the pull.

Or maybe he just didn't want to because he was feeling particularly vulnerable about it, and he preferred to be on his own when it happened.

It wasn't because he didn't have a good experience being around others when he was regressed, far, far from it actually. Both Stanley and Fiddleford were always understanding and hadn't said or done anything that could've signaled that they thought ill of him for it. Or of it as a whole, really. Ever. And he liked being with them a lot!

But... He couldn't shake the voice that said that he was exposing himself too much. Setting himself up for heartbreak.

Neither could he shake off the feeling that it was something that he should do alone. That he has to take care of himself. Alone. Memories of the past weighting him down.

And he resists, again, tucking his starry blanket below the bed, hidden from any and all eyes, and promising himself that he would when he didn't have other things going on.

Except... One day he wakes up feeling small, or heavily tilting already, and he hadn't planned on it.

And he also had compromises going on with other people.

Boy, does he not take it well.

He jumps out of bed and paces around, he goes back and tries to sleep to hopefully wake up in his usual mindset again (he's asking for a miracle, he knows), then he gets out again and stomps his feet and pulls at his hair. Part of him yelling that it couldn't be, and part of him wanting to cry due to being overwhelmed.

He's throwing what's properly named a temper tantrum, and he knows, and it only helps him tilt completely. The emotions feel like too much to him.

And when either Stan or Fiddleford go looking for him he apologizes for failing, for not being able to "meet the expectations" that were put on his shoulders, he's not able to work on what they had asked of him and he's sorry, so sorry.

He gets the opposite to what he expects: reassurance.

Reassurance that it was okay, nobody was mad at him. Reassurance that they could take it easy instead and do something more fun. And specially, reassurance that it was okay if he was small from time to time. It didn't make him any less valuable, nor weird, nor a burden.

He wasn't loved just for his intelligence or what he could do, and he should remember that.

[gemallass]

ford agere. i cheered. (love ur stuff)

(I'm so happy aaaa 💕💕💕💕)

[gemallass]

Greetings!

Hello hi, I'm Gemallass, your friendly neighbor that likes to yap about Stanford Pines. Feel free to come visit my askbox if ya like :3

For now here's some info/rules about the blog!

Any blog is welcome to reblog/like/interact in general if they so desire. Just keep the commentary SFW rated for the other people that might come here!

I'm an adult and don't fully partake in regression myself. I just like writing my favorite characters doing it for comfort for myself.

All affection depicted here is and will be platonic.

Some posts might submerge into dark/heavy topics such as trauma, less than savory experiences, and etc so careful with the writings! (will end in a happy note but just so you know)

And please do tell me if something needs a special tag so it can be blacklisted!

I obviously will put a warning first and foremost but in case I miss it don't be scared about telling me!

This is a sideblog of mine so, sorry if I don't interact much with other blogs </3

[gemallass]

I have said it before and I am saying it again: Ford should get to be a bit of a crybaby when regressed, as a threat 👏

He can unlearn the shame of crying better (speculation/hc since he's a man in his 60s--or late 50s if you want--that grew up in the 60s with a toxic father figure. I don't have a single doubt that Filbrick would've taught his children that. One way or another, even) when he's feeling small.

Plus, rather than supressing his fears, anxieties and etc he could just, let it out. It would be good for him, me thinks.

Yeah obviously it doesn't mean he would have a 180º change in attitude once he's done, and, hell, I think he would still try to supress it even when he's regressed and such, but I think the key difference is that he would struggle more to do so at that moment, and so he would end up in a puddle of his own tears.

And then later the shame comes since "boys don't cry", "men don't cry" and blah blah blah, but ya know, baby steps.

Or if he's with someone else he gets a nice hug and pets while he lets all the stress out.

He gets to be vulnerable, and soft, and to be the protected, as a threat.

[gemallass]

Accidentally made a 1,198 words ficlet as a sequel of sorts to this post

Cross-posted on Ao3 too if that's more comfortable

Can you imagine that's how Stan finds out that Ford regresses? 🥺

Without waiting for a proper response to his knocking he barges into Stanford's room, after all, Stanley is a man on a mission right now: Making sure his very intelligent but also knucklehead of a brother doesn't miss on a proper meal, which, could end up in two different ways.

Case one, he has to wake him up. Or at the very least get him conscious enough that he can get a bearing of his surroundings, and, hopefully, not feed the floor too much of his food.

Stan doesn't care if Ford ends up falling asleep on the table while he cooks something up for the both of them. He doesn't care if Ford blinks one eye at a time and eats even slower, which delays the task of washing the dishes and has him counting the stains on the ceiling for the next hour. And he certainly doesn't care if he has to guide or even carry Ford back to his room when he, inevitably, ends up falling asleep at the table again.

So long as he's not starving and overeating later, anything is fair game.

Case two, he has to convince him to get away from his work, which is never easy. And after having had a few arguments over eating (turned) cold hard food, bringing the meal to said room and leaving him to it isn't an option anymore.

They both know hot meals are a privilege, why waste it?

But they also know that the habits that once helped you make it to another day are hard to get rid of.

Stanley also isn't balancing the plate on his lap, either, when there's a perfectly fine table in the kitchen. Thank you very much.

He complains, mostly to himself, no doubt, about how he can feel his stomach disintegrating due to not having put anything in it--never mind the fact that he merely woke up minutes ago--but stops abruptly when he's inches away from the end of the bed-couch. And with a hand still hovering above the covers, he finally takes in the scene before him.

His brother, the interdimensional criminal, certified badass, owner (and creator?) of a hundred spacey-looking guns and the man that went through hell at the hands of a yellow demon--who Stan also wishes he could turn into his personal punching bag to use until the end of times--and still got out alive, with most of his sense of self intact, even, was sleeping with a goddamned plushie of half his height.

And with a dark blue pacifier in his mouth.

Oh, he's so not letting dear ol' Sixer live this down any time soon. He rubs his hands together while a mischievous grin appears on his face at the mere thought of a few remarks and jokes he could do.

After all, Stanley is not going to miss the chance to expand his arsenal of things to tease Stanford with. I mean, c'mon, he looks utterly and completely adorable! What's Stan to do? Ignore it and break the sacred sibling's code? Blasphemy in its purest form, he says!

Plus, the guy looks pretty relaxed too, a whole change from the usual deal. And vulnerable, which, did also differ a bit from the usual.

Hm.

That last thought brings his previous scheming and snickering to a sudden halt. He takes a seat on a free spot on the couch, careful to not touch the sleeping man at his side, suddenly overwhelmed with the need to let the peaceful atmosphere continue. Maybe even keep it from being disrupted.

Yeah, he could do that.

Because at last, Ford hadn't woken up at the slightest sound, and started pacing as if he hadn't been asleep moments ago. At last, Ford didn't seem to be fighting for his life when he was supposed to be the most relaxed, according to normal people (and verified by his fellow nerds). At last, Stanford hadn't jumped out of bed and taken the stance of a threatened wild animal when his brother, his twin, Stanley, entered his space. Something that he seemed to have learned for survival purposes--which Stan can also relate to--and that he doesn't really fault him for, yet that it came with a price when people close to you were involved. Hurting them one way or another.

Which, speaking of, he isn't sure if Ford would take kindly to him knowing about... This... That he does.

Stanley doesn't think anything about it. Really. Specially since it seems to be so effective on helping Brainiac sleep for once. And it appears to be harmless, so, who cares? Not him, that's for sure. But, if Ford had wanted him to know, he would've spoken or at the very least mentioned it, right? Back on the boat, there were nights where they slept on the same bed due to old not-so-happy memories resurfacing, or even just nightmares involving either them or the other, and they could use the reassurance that everything was and is okay and also that the other was safe and relatively healthy (some habits did start to catch up with them and did not mix well with the old man problems. (Cursed be the nicotine manufacturers on Stan's case)).

Did Stanford need it then and there but abstained from it to not seem "weird" in his brother's eyes? Please! Stanley ran a business in Gravity Falls for 30 years, for Moses’ sake!

Surely he knows that the jokes he throws at him are just harmless banter and that he never means it as a genuine attack, right? He must know he wouldn't judge him for something like this, right? Jeez, Pointdexter, I wouldn't hit you so low. Stanley thinks. Not again, never again.

Were it not for the--quite painful--pang and literal growl of his stomach, Stanley would have continued studying his sleeping brother and thinking about how to approach the topic. If at all. But alas, he's needed somewhere else. Somewhere with fresh food. And maybe coffee.

As gently and slowly as he sat down, he gets up, but freezes mid-way through when the still figure decided to not-be-so-still anymore. His brain scrambles for a way to book it out of there without making a sound while his heart beats in his ears. Finally, when he sees that Ford was definitely still asleep, and that he also feels his soul come back to him, he gives the rest of his body permission to continue working as usual. His lungs being the first to get back into action with a big release of air and subsequently an intake.

He glances back at his brother with a soft smile one last time before deciding to take his leave.

Stanford can have his secrets. Stanley would make sure to guard and protect them (and him). Ford didn't have to know that Stan knew, if that's what he had wanted in the first place. Stanley could keep his mouth shut.

Besides, it wouldn't be lying if it was never brought up. Nothing for him to deny, so, Stan is on the clear here.

. . .

Hopefully.

[gemallass]

Okay but imagine Ford having an extra large plushie that has some considerable weight to it that he carries anywhere he goes🥺

It's the size or even a bit larger than his torso and it weights a few noticeable pounds (enough for him to notice it, he's not hugging an anvil) and it's his best buddy (or second best, #1 is Stan obviously)

And also him cuddling it to sleep? God 🥺🥺🥺🥺

He's all cozy and tucked in bed, paci in mouth, weight blanket covering them both and his legs and arms wrapped around his plushie, drifting off to dreamland

No nightmares come since his furry buddy is there to keep them at bay 💖💖💖

[gemallass]

Ford being a sensitive crybaby when regressed >>>>>>