prism-schemester

[prism-schemester]

Girl, calm down. They broke up forever ago.

[prism-schemester]

not yet!!

[prism-schemester]

Happy mothers day to Stan Pines

[prism-schemester]

Divine Taste

Stancest Age Gap (Kid Stan/Older Ford) Soul Eater inspired AU Vore ficlet

“You overexerted yourself again.” 

Ford holds the faint blue ball by its slug like tail. His expression is unimpressed behind his glasses. 

“I didn’t mean to!” A childish voice cries out, oddly layered and echoey. “It’s just - It’s been so long I forgot!” 

Ford doesn’t sigh but a quiet exhale slips past his lips. He gives the soul pinched between his fingers a punishing bounce. 

“What if that happened while we were fighting? You’re okay with leaving me completely defenseless? You’re okay with letting me die, Stanley?” 

The childish voice remains silent, guilty and pouting. Ford knows the boy wants to argue, at least on his comment about being defenseless, but is holding his tongue as to not be misinterpreted. 

He’s learning at least. 

Ford lifts the glowing sphere above his head. It’s fascinating how the boy’s soul shines just like the sun. “I depend on you. I’m trusting you, Stanley. You understand how important that is, don’t you?” 

“O-of course I do!” Stan sputters. His soul wiggles unhappily against Ford’s fingertips. The next part the boy grumbles out, obviously affected by the older man’s words and turned embarrassed and shy, “I trust you too, Sixer. It’s just…I get so excited when we’re movin’ in sync like that. It’s like - like a roller coaster!” 

The squeaky exclamation brings a flood of memories to the forefront of Ford’s mind. His Lee had clutched tight to his hand and dragged him all over the boardwalk, ecstatic to ride all the rides. Ford had followed behind, his fingers limp in his brother’s hold. Lee’s big bright smile fades into the pale opaqueness of Stanley’s soul dangling in front of him. 

“Thrills aside, you need to focus. This is why I haven’t taken you into the field.” 

“ ‘m sorry…” The morose response comes from the boy. The squirming dies down and he hangs despondently in the older man’s grasp. “I’ll do better, I promise.” 

Ford believes him. Stanley has taken exceptionally well to staying in his weapon form longer and longer. Ford should do something to reward him for that. Positive reinforcement makes the boy work like a well-oiled machine. Completely devoted to Ford’s steady six fingered hands. 

“Good. That’s all I ask of you, Stanley.” 

Ford brings the soul down to his lips and gives the glowing orb a tentative kiss. It makes his mouth tingle and buzz. Souls aren’t meant to have such exposure to the world. 

“Hng!” The soul against Ford’s face jolts almost violently. It spreads the tingle up the older man’s cheek. “Wha-What’re you doin’?” 

“Although you dropped your focus, you’ve been doing well holding your form as commanded. I think that deserves a reward, yes?” 

Ford doesn’t expect an answer. The boy folds under any kind of offered affection, this will be no different. However…looking at the soul resting between his fingertips lights a morbid curiosity Ford wants to chase. 

He continues his ministrations, giving the warm ball fluttering kisses and relishing in each twitch and muted thrash. The tail end of Stanley’s soul, where Ford is keeping it pinched, curls around his thumb. Anchoring itself and cutting a soft sting of heat across the scarred knuckle. 

“Stanley,” Ford says huskily against the shimmering warmth, momentarily touched at the sign of trust. He parts his lips and tentatively brushes his tongue against the boy’s soul. 

Stanley cries out, high-pitched and surprised. His soul pulses against Ford’s face. “Ah, ah. Ford, that feels weird!” 

“Souls are sensitive things. They aren’t meant to be so…exposed.” 

Ford blows a puff of air across the surface of the orb on the last word. Stanley squirms, soul rippling with the created breeze. 

“Don’t you feel how dangerous this is? How easily something could crush you?” Ford brings his other hand up to cup the boy with his palm. “You needn’t worry, Stanley. Just as you protect me, I will protect you.” 

Stanley keens, obviously trying to stifle it. Ford smiles and closes his eyes to lean fully into his charge’s embrace. “I’ll take care of you. Take as much time as you need to regain your strength.” 

The soul shivers in his hands before relaxing. Warmth coats Ford’s palm like a lover’s caress. He hums, pleased Stanley is listening and coinciding so quickly. 

Usually, it’s a battle to get the boy to calm, to pause and take care of himself, to accept the fact that he needs to do self-care at all. 

Ford gives the glowing orb another lick. His tongue practically vibrates with how much it tingles. Soft static floods across his lips. Stanley’s soul tastes sun bleached and sweet. 

“Stanf-ford,” The boy whines. His soul pulsates again, reaching out for connection. Ford rotates his soul slowly, making sure to coat as much of it in his saliva as he can. “Mmh-! Ha, I don’t - I don’t -“

“Shh. I know, baby boy. I know. Give me a moment. I’ll keep you safe.” 

Ford flattens his tongue and tips his head back. Stanley bumps against his nose and shivers when Ford removes one of his hands to let him dangle over Ford’s open mouth. 

He carefully lowers the boy’s soul into his waiting jaws, avoiding scrapping the ball against his teeth, hungry to deliver the solace he’s promised his charge. 

Stanley makes a series of sounds, choked off gasps, squeaky cries, and shaky moans as he descends and finally realizes Ford’s intentions. 

There is no frantic struggle. No instinctual urge to survive. Just complete and utter trust that Ford isn’t going to hurt him. 

He almost swallows, mouth flooding with saliva. His boy is so good. So obedient. Everything he wanted his own Stan to be. 

Ford closes his lips, sealing Stanley inside his mouth. His cheeks bulge trying to hold the orb without splitting his lips. The boy’s soul shivers and wiggles. It’s warm sides bump against the inside of Ford’s cheeks and his own moan punches out of him at the gentle burning sensation. 

Stanley goes stock-still. Ford breathes heavily though his nose. He slowly drags his tongue back and forth, rubbing the underside of Stanley's soul and having static buzz pleasantly down his throat. 

Everything is covered in a film of tickling burning softness. The roof of Ford’s mouth catches most of the heat. It quickly becomes itchy and overwhelming, crossing wires in the older man’s mind. The subtle pain lights up long dormant parts of his anatomy. 

His spit only serves to make his mouth even more full as it melts and puddles off Stanley. The boy pulses and sends a slight jolt through Ford’s teeth. Instinctively the older man bites down. 

Stanley yelps and something tacky and thick sprays off of him. It gets quickly lapped up by Ford’s tongue. He’s not sure if it’s soul blood or some kind of ejaculate. Either way it tastes divine. Almost minty. Warm and loving. Dependent. 

Ford sits down and just enjoys the weight of his charge resting in his mouth. Stanley is safe there, the safest he could ever be. 

They stay like that a long time. Stanley eventually relaxes, soul deflating just slightly and slumping down on Ford’s tongue. He curves the wet appendage to better cradle the boy, marinating in the silent show of trust. After several long moments of holding him like that does Ford realize the ever-present warmth as tampered down. 

Stanley fell asleep. Stanley is asleep in his mouth. 

Ford digs his fingers into his thigh harshly to stop himself from making any noise. It would surely wake the boy and ruin this quiet moment. He wants to keep Stanley in his mouth as long as he can. But the front of his pants is growing unbearably tight for the first time in ages. 

Surely his charge wouldn’t mind Ford taking care of himself as well. Self-care is important. He must lead by example. Even if Stanley isn’t conscious for it. Positive reinforcement. 

He unzips his pants and draws his erection out of the slit in his boxers. He’s wet enough the first few pulls hardly hurt at all. 

It doesn’t take much. The heady pressure of Stanley against his cheeks and tongue is enough to spur his hand into faster and faster drags. The extinguishing heat bubbles the roof of his mouth and feels like it’s wafting up to his brain, obscuring memories of his own twin with glimmering blue smoke, leaving an empty face with a huge haunting grin.

Ford’s throat spasms as he comes, desperate to swallow against the intrusion. Spit drips from the corner of his lips. Come paints his six fingered hand sticky and white. 

Since his tongue is otherwise occupied, Ford is forced to wipe himself off. Once cleaned up he settles against a tree trunk and waits patiently for his charge to wake, renewed and full of vigor. 

They still have a long way to go before Stanley is ready. Ford recommits himself for the foreseeable future. What a delight it will be to watch his boy grow into the perfect weapon, molded solely by his capable hands. 

It won’t be so bad. Especially if there’re more moments like this in store for them. 

[prism-schemester]

Do you think Ford slept in stans bunker after he got kicked out? Did he just bury his face in his brother’s pillow, the scent of him fading day by day and being replaced with the salty smell of Ford’s tears?

[prism-schemester]

30s stan and ford freaking it?

SORRY FOR TAKING TOO LONG let's say I made a whole shitty comic about this 🤧🤧

full is on twitter or bluesky 🤭🤭💖💖

[prism-schemester]

LOOK AT THIS IT TOOK ME 6 HOURS AND 7.5 MINUTES!!!!!

[prism-schemester]

Soostan abo with Stan as an old grumpy menopausal omega that has annoyingly intense heats and Soos is a soft alpha that takes care of him for them...

[prism-schemester]

For pinesot4month2025. Prompt '3v1'. Day 23.

Dipper & Mabel are older teens here. It's implied they all mix n match with each other, but for the 3v1 aspect, it just focuses on Mabel's antics. PG-13.

-

“I think you all know why I've called this family meeting," began Ford, casting a stern look around the table. 

Dipper frowned and gave a curt nod. 

Stan nodded his own confirmation, though he rolled his eyes as he did so.

Mabel, however, pursed her lips in confusion. 

Ford cleared his throat. "I want to preface that I am not here to specifically call any one person out, but to address this as a group." 

His gaze swept around the table again in a grand show of equality. It paused, however, to linger with significance on his niece. "The 'public displays of affection', we'll call them, need to be toned down. People are...starting to talk."

Mabel gaped like he'd announced holding hands was a crime now punishable by firing squad. "Wha - come on, seriously?! I can't show my own family I love and appreciate them?" 

"I am compelled to point out that performing fellatio in the grocery store parking lot, in the middle of a bright summer's day, is not an appropriate public show of familial appreciation," said Ford. He looked over pointedly at Stan. "Right, Stanley?" 

Stan threw his arms up. "Hey, it was her idea! Besides, I parked the car in the back of the lot, nobody saw!"

"Then how, exactly, do I know about it?"

Silence stretched for several long moments. 

Ford moved on. "Dipper, you mentioned an incident at the pool. Would you like to share with everyone?"

Dipper looked apologetically at his sister and began hesitantly, though his voice grew stronger as his story gained momentum. "Mabel, you put me in an awkward spot at the pool last week. When you asked if you could give me a kiss, I assumed you meant on the cheek. Not on the mouth. With tongue. In front of literally everyone! I like it when we do those things alone, not around people from town!"

Mabel huffed and crossed her arms. "It's Gravity Falls, no one cares! Tell them it's normal back home." 

"Uh, California is progressive, but its not that progressive," replied Dipper and Stan snorted. 

"So," said Ford, feeling good about the outcome of the discussion, "I think we've all learned that certain activities should stay more confidential. The enthusiasm is appreciated, but there is a time and a place. And that place is not in public. I think that about wraps things up. Thank you all for your attenti-"

"Hey, Grunkle Ford," Mabel cut in, arms still crossed but with a sly smile spreading over her face, "anything you'd like to confess to?"

Ford had been a lighthouse of self-righteousness up until that moment, and at Mabel's words, he visibly dimmed to more of a pocket flashlight of self-righteousness. He stood and began to edge away from the table. "Not at all. My conscience is quite clear. Unfortunately, I do need to check on an experiment down in the lab -"

Stan flung out an arm to block his exit. "Whoa, hang on! You singled Mabel out for all her PDA, It wouldn't be fair if you didn't own up to yours."

"Yeah, don't be shellfish! Give us the facts to tide us over," Mabel grinned, relishing the rare double opportunity to ruffle Ford's composed feathers and make terrible puns.

Dipper grimaced, then looked suspiciously between the two of them as pieces fell into place. "Wait, did something happen on our trip to the Aquarium last month? Is that why you guys disappeared for 40 minutes?"

"Perhaps," said Mabel, giving Ford a last chance to fess up.

"It wasn't in public, so there's nothing to tell. There was no chance of discovery," said Ford, indignant. He shot her a warning glance, which she promptly ignored. 

"We did unspeakable things in the bathroom behind the jellyfish exhibit," she announced. "The whale calls got us all hot and bothered."

"It was single occupancy with a very secure lock on the door!" Ford tossed out as a life saver for his sinking position of being right. Stan wasn't having it.

"It's literally called a public restroom, that's way worse than what I did! If that's where you guys went, then why'd she come back with that giant stuffed narwhal? The tag said 60 bucks!" Stan looked disturbed and scandalized for the first time since the meeting began. 

"I may have earned a trip to the gift shop," Mabel said, extremely pleased with herself.

Dipper was shaking his head. "Sorry, whale calls?"

"They're very romantic," Mabel said, and stared dreamily off into the distance.

"Indeed. Quite an impressive and alien beauty," agreed Ford seriously.

Stan had seemingly resigned himself to another afternoon of abnormality and sighed. "This is a weird fuckin' family."

-

[prism-schemester]

Pinesot4pril Prompt 25

Sharing

WARNING: Needles, (discussed/imminent) cannibalism

Stan should have known something was wrong the moment he woke up and felt no pain. He was no stranger to it, after all. Body aches were a constant companion of his, so constant that he'd long been able to compartmentalize them and push them to the back of his mind, where they simmered just beneath the surface in constant, dull pangs. At least, usually. Some days were better, some days were worse. But, laying like this, on his back and with no support, the ache was constant and almost impossible to ignore. Most nights, Stan either slammed back a mix of pain and sleeping meds or contorted himself into a position that was as close to comfortable as he could get.

But, there was no pain. No murmuring agony that pulled Stan from under the covers in hope that the pain of being upright would be less than the one in his spine. Blinking away the tiredness from his eyes, Stan looked around.

It was dark and dim, but when was it not? Stan spent thirty years down here almost every night. He knew Ford's laboratory like the back of his hand. Even after all these years, it was left untouched, save for whatever experiments his twin performed whenever they returned to Oregon. The only true light source was a glowing teal from behind him, but it was enough for him to see. Well, barely. His glasses were missing and these damn cataracts hardly helped.

He turned his head to his left, almost jumping when he spotted another person lying on a table. A woman. She was completely naked. She appeared to be sleeping. A long, blob of brown hair hung off the side of the table.

Mabel?

Stan's breath hitched. His immediate instinct was to leap off the table and scoop Mabel into his arms. But, he couldn't. He was held back, something clasped firm around his wrists and ankles. His pulse sped up, breath stuttering and eyes darting around in a panic. Memories flashed in front of his vision, of being tied up and held down and of ropes and manacles and wire tight around him. 

His head swiveled in a panic, turning to his right. A near identical body lay beside him. Dipper. Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

Stan struggled against his binds impossibly. The table shook underneath him. He had to get out of here, he had to get them out of here and get them to safety.

“Kids!” He barked. “Mabel, Dipper, wake up! Now!”

Neither of them stirred.

“Kids!”

He strained his vision, whipping his head from side-to-side. Were their chests rising and falling? Were they still alive? God, please, please just let them be okay. 

“Stanley?!”

Ford. Oh, thank God, Ford was here, he'd let them free–

But, then again, who'd put them down here in the first place?

“Ford,” he called out. “Let us outta here!”

A blobby figure was immediately by his side, looking over him. Stan squinted, his brother's blurry face coming into view.

“You're not supposed to be awake yet,” Ford's voice was a breathless murmur.

Stan struggled against his binds. “What the hell is this?!”

“Are you in any pain? The solution I gave you should have negated any, but perhaps the dosage was off? It must've been off on the sleep serum. I should have known not to give you the same dosage as the twins.”

“What.”

“No matter, I'll put you back under shortly.”

“No, no! Don't!” Stan searched his mind for a way out, something to stall him. “I wanna- wanna see you.”

Ford stilled over him for a moment, before walking away and hurriedly returning. His glasses were put over his face, resting on the bridge of his nose.

And there Ford was, in all his glory. He looked like shit.

Deep, deep bags bung below his bloodshot eyes. His gray curls were wild and unruly. He looked even more pale than usual. A memory flashed into his mind, of the unkempt and manic version of his brother he'd encountered just before he lost him to the portal. Guilt stung at Stan, mentally kicking himself for not checking on Ford more often. 

Summer hadn't started well. First, Ford and Stan were both crushed when Dipper and Mabel gave them the bad news – that their parents had forbidden them from studying under their Great Uncle Ford while sailing abroad with them and insisted that they attend actual universities for a more traditional college experience. All four of them were heartbroken, but Stan was understanding. The kids still had a good relationship with both their parents and neither wanted to do anything to raise tensions any higher than they already were. He knew the feeling well. Just like he and Ford were for the longest time, they were slaves to their parents' whims. It seemed Ford had taken the news far worse than he had.

Secondly, and more importantly, they'd discovered that the statue of Bill was missing. The entire Shack was in a panic, bracing for the worst and waiting for the second coming of the Oddpocalypse. Hours were spent, waiting with bated breath, all of them either pacing or preparing or searching. Hours passed. Then, days. Weeks. And nothing came of it.

Stan and the twins allowed themselves to let their guards down. If something was going to happen, it already would have. Ford had said before that some teens thought worshipping Bill was cool in some sort of ironic way. Some shithead teenager probably made off with the thing as a dare or prank, probably had the triangular fucker on their wall or up a tree or in an outhouse somewhere. Hopefully. They all made attempts to breathe easier. If something did happen, they'd all make it through it together, like they always had. It reassured them. Everyone, except for Ford.

Ford had holed himself up in the basement doing God knows what. They made attempts to drag him outside or at least into the house proper, but those moments were few and far between. They all made sure to check in on him and bring him down meals, but his twin seemed to find comfort in his solitude. It was understandable. At least, that's what Stan assumed. Ford had the most experience with the guy. He brought up bad memories for all of them. Stan figured he was probably trying to find or make some way to defeat him in case Bill did end up reappearing. He assumed that the worst possible outcome of all of this was a lack of sleep and not making the most out of their time with their niblings. He certainly didn't expect whatever this was.

Vision now clear, or as clear as it was gonna get, Stan could see the weary, affectionate smile that spread over his twin's face. A six-fingered hand reached down, cupping his face gently. Ford seemed calm. Calmer, at least. Maybe he could snap him out of this. They could talk this out.

“Better?” Ford asked.

“Hey, listen. I get you're scared right now. But, whatever this is, some kinda freaky experiment, you don't need to do it.”

Ford did not seem to like that answer. He turned about, coat flourishing in the air, as he walked toward his beck behind Stan. There were some shuffling noises, the sound of metal being moved around. The younger twin craned his neck in an attempt to see.

“C'mon, Sixer, if you're trying to help us, you could at least let us know before ya do it!”

“You wouldn't understand.”

“Try me.”

A pause. Then, a heavy sigh. Ford walked back over and Stan spotted a syringe in one hand.

“Hey, hey, hey, no, no!” Stan exclaimed, eyes going wide. “Let's talk about this.”

“I'm sorry, Stanley, but there's nothing to discuss. I've made up my mind. This is for the best.”

“Shit, Ford, you've already got us trapped here. Could you at least tell me what's gonna happen?”

Ford's lips pulled into a grimace, looking him over with something unreadable in his eyes. The elder twin looked between the syringe and prone form of his brother. Then, he seemed to deflate. He sighed, body sagging and looking so much more tired.

“I have to protect you,” he muttered. 

“We can protect each other,” Stan assured.

“No,” Ford snapped, then wilted. “Not just protect you. I have to… I have to keep you. It's not just Bill. The idea of him making his return is terrifying, but there's more to it. Bill, the twins’ parents, potential suitors or suitresses,” Ford slowly shook his head, looking away. “I'm greedy, Stanley. I'm greedy and selfish. I want the three of you all to myself.”

A piece of Stan's heart snapped. “You think we don't want ya back, Sixer?”

“I can't take the risk. There can be no room for doubt. And it's not just you. I cannot allow any of you to be taken from me ever again.”

“Hey, we always come back to each other, don't we?”

“And look how long that took,” Ford turned back, a wild look in his eyes. “Never again. I can't risk it ever again.”

“So what?” Stan's eyes settled back on the needle. “Ya gonna–” A nervous laugh escaped him at the absurdity of the idea. “Y’gonna kill us or something? Some Fatal Attraction shit?”

“No… Well,” Ford slowly began to smile, a strange look in his eye. “You'll all live on through me.”

Stan's face dropped. His heart sank to his feet. His fearful expression must have been so obvious that it must have broken through to Ford in some way.

“I'll protect you,” Ford assured him. “All of you. I'll protect you, love you, cherish you, keep all of you with me,” he smiled even wider, placing a hand over his stomach. “Inside me. Forever.”

All that Stan could get out is a single, “Huh?”

“It's rather simple, Stanley. If I devour you, I'll be able to keep you inside of me. You all will live on through me and nothing will ever hurt you or take you away from me ever again. It's perfect.”

So, no, apparently, this wasn't some Fatal Attraction shit. This was some Silence of The Lambs shit.

“YOU'RE GONNA COOK US AND EAT US?”

Ford rolled his eyes with a playful smile, waving him off. “Of course not. Any cannibal worth their salt knows that the most intimate and loving means of eating another person is to eat them raw. Cooking the flesh not only takes away the natural flavors of an individual but also feels completely impersonal. This is special. You are all special. I'd never do that to you."

“Oh, so that makes it okay, then?”

Ford frowned. “I don't expect you to understand.”

“Because this is crazy!”

“Stanley, you– I, we–” He growled, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “You are my soulmates. All of you. Quite literally fated to be brought together by prophecy before any of us were even born. I've spent decades without you, decades waiting for them. I can't spend another second without you,” Ford's voice became strained, eyes wet and teary. “I can't risk anyone taking you from me again. I just can't stand the thought of having to share you with anyone anymore. I need you all to myself. I can't bear it anymore. I need your blood in my mouth. I need your flesh in between my teeth.”

“Ford, please,” Stan begged, heartstrings nearly wrenched out at the sight of his brother like this. “Think about this.”

With a heavy, shuddering sigh, the elder twin approached Stan, once again looming over him.

“I have thought about this. Long and hard. And no matter which angle I've looked at it, this is the only way. This is the only way I can keep you and the twins completely safe.”

“Safe?! We'll be dead!”

“As I said, you'll live on through me. I'll carry you with me wherever I go. We can still have a life, still have adventures. It's romantic, is it not?”

Stan rapidly lost control of his breathing. “Y– you really think no one's gonna catch ya?”

Eerily, Ford's grin returned. “Oh, not to worry. Soos and Melody have already been informed that we'll be taking a sailing excursion. Perhaps, for the rest of the Summer. And as for the twins’ parents, well, teenagers can be so flighty. Who knows where they fled to, and why? We'll all be long gone on the ship by then.”

“Kids!” Stan shouted suddenly, gaze spinning wildly between Dipper and Mabel. “Come on, wake up!”

“It's no use, Stan. They're dead to the world.”

The fear and panic that had built up in Stan's chest erupted into fiery anger. His lips curled back, baring his teeth. His breaths came out in shallows huffy through his flared nostrils. He glared up at Ford, pouring all of his rage into a single look.

“I'm sorry, Stanley,” Ford cupped his brother's cheek again. “I really am. I wish there was some other way, but there's not.”

Stan opened his mouth to argue, but he hadn't been expecting the kiss Ford planted on him. A choked, surprised sound hummed in his throat, momentarily too shocked to be angry. And then he was boiling with rage. He bit down harshly on Ford's lip. Ford groaned and his head reeled back, breaking the kiss. Stan felt some sense of satisfaction at that. A toothy sneer overtook his features. 

He expected Ford to be angry. What he didn't expect was a groan of pleasure not pain, or for his brother to begin tonguing at the wound, collecting his own blood on his tongue. And he didn't expect Ford to lunge down again, taking advantage of Stan's shock to push his tongue into his mouth, sharing the blood with him. The coppery taste of Ford’s blood hit Stan's tongue and both men groaned into each other's mouths. For the briefest moment, Stan understood his brother's desire. And then the moment was gone, and he bot down on Ford's tongue. Ford only moaned and deepened the kiss further. 

When he pulled back, Ford somehow seemed even more crazed and giddy. He looked… Hungry. He was practically salivating over his brother.

Ford disappeared one last time from view while Stan struggled uselessly on the examination table. When he came back, Ford was flicking the air bubbles from another syringe. He looked positively manic.

His voice was mad whisper. “This was supposed to wait until later, but you're too irresistible. I have to have you now.”

“Stanford, please, don't!”

“Don't worry, Stanley, I promise,” he held Stan's arm still, driving the needle into his skin. “This will ensure that being consumed by me is nothing short of euphoric. You'll be begging for me to eat you.”

And somehow, that made it all the more terrifying.

[prism-schemester]

I think people make Ford a creep more often because if you even hint that Ford Doesn't reciprocate Stan's feelings the entire show becomes Ford the Molestation Magnet who Cannot Catch A Break Ever

[prism-schemester]

evil kitty... bad kitty....

[prism-schemester]

"Do you guys really think Ford could top Stan????? 🤓" I think Stan spent thirty years in that basement face down ass up waiting for it is what I think

[prism-schemester]

ford definitely doesnt have a favorite brother guys

inspired by Ford when talking about Stan hitting us with the constant MY BROTHER MY BROTHER MY BROTHER

vs him just calling Shermie by the full name for some reason and literally never mentioning him again ever😭

[prism-schemester]

realistically do u think Stan can even get it up? esp with his use of "edible flour" (being so dependent on it he had to strip for a taste, which is neither here nor there) in his prime

idk if he has a specific age or if he's just Vaguely Old, but as much as i thirst, i look at him like "i bet ur allergic to viagra <3"

[prism-schemester]

What would happen if Stanley got the million he needed anyway? Would he show up on Ford's doorstep with a giant fake cheque he made himself and a big smile, saying he finally did it, he finally got Ford his money! Except. Ford doesn't welcome him with open arms, are you kidding? His brother, that ruined his chance at his dream school and then left him in Jersey to start clawing his way out again with already sore fingers came here with One Million Dollars from his own success without Ford and just thinks he can throw money at Ford to make him forgive him? Did he really think it was that easy, that Ford was that pitiful that he would forgive and forget for money alone? And Stanley? Stanley was holding onto this idea with everything he had, that once he had Ford's money, everything would be okay, Ford wasn't cruel, Ford wouldn't pile on interest until numbers weren't numbers anymore, just made-up things to keep Stan working. He didn't want forgiveness right away, he knew he fucked up, but the million was a show he was trying, wasn't it? It showed he was worth something, worth giving a chance, but Ford saw his stupid cardboard sign, not even one that said he was worth three bucks, trying to pay a million bucks for Ford to just take him back, and he looked disgusted, offended. Of course he did, he was living it up in a huge house in the woods, he was probably wiping his ass with the money Stanley had bled for, and Stan got angry because the deal was Stan could go home if he got Ford a million and Ford wasn't paying up, Stanley wanted to go home, demanded it, and Ford refused.

[prism-schemester]

My stancest darkfic with fem!Stan is up on Ao3! Mind the warnings! https://archiveofourown.org/works/64737130