#Ford is all Ash

[nenoname]

“To what extent must a timeline diverge from its determined path before a parallel world is formed? How far must boundaries be pushed to ensure that it will persist when its own origin no longer exists? Although it is undeniable that Time and Space are of different beasts entirely, their existence are irrevocably intertwined. In the past thirty years of research, it was determined that there is one undeniable barrier to altering the past. With a single exception granted by rulers of time itself, any attempts at time manipulation have been proven to be deterministic, any alterations to the timeline has already and will always happen. The result is that Time, for the most part, will continue flowing in a single continuous stream. But what if Space itself could be harnessed to circumvent this certainty? To be simultaneously dead and alive, united and separated, knowing and ignorant. To alter Space to alter Time to alter Space. To exist without a true origin. To react before being given cause for action. How far can a contradiction distort the very fabric of existence so it would bend to human will? How much will it take to undo my mistakes?" “…Yeesh. And here I thought my version of Sixer was getting overprotective.”

in which alternative worlds are thrown into an au already filled with confusing time paradoxes and a depressed old man is about to make his grief everyone else's problem

[peachetteprice]

How it Should Be | Captain John Price

John, your husband of nine years - coming up on the big decade - who still grows pink in the face when you tap his arse and call him handsome.

He just can't quite believe it.

He knows he must be somewhat attractive because he landed you - and by God that was not an easy feat, concealing how ardently he pined for you in that dimly-lit Spoons in the centre of Hereford - despite how your brother, who joined you every time because it was the only way you could ever see John, and vice versa - had been his friend since John was twenty-five and your brother, twenty-two; he worked at the classic car garage in Leominster that John frequented to keep mint his Ford Cortina - but regardless of all of the strife he underwent to secure you as his beloved wife, he still finds himself biting back a form of childish embarrassment that forces his bottom lip between his teeth as you profess over a glass of wine just how gorgeous he is, right now, in his underwear, sipping that pitcher of beer because he ran out of Scotch.

In every other respect, he's the most stoic man you've ever met. But if you ever catch him in the kitchen, the bedroom, the bathroom, even outside in the garden and coo extravagantly about how stunning he looks, whether he be elbow-deep in grease doing the dishes, fixing his belt around his jeans early in the morning, grooming his beard before the mirror or de-weeding the patio outside, he will undoubtedly become bashful to the extent of personal ridicule, rolling his eyes or slamming his palm on the sink to exclaim that he is not, in fact, as 'beautiful' as you seem to think he is.

It's only partly a joke, but the majority of one of those parts leans towards the serious truth, which is most disconcerting, and half the reason why you spend so much of your precious time trying to convince him that he is, in fact, the most beautiful, gorgeous, stunning, handsome man you've ever laid eyes upon.

And, yes, you may be biased, because you get this one all to yourself, and no other woman can say they frequently bed a man who puts as much effort into pistoning his cock deep within you or tongueing you until you're bone-dry in thirty-Celsius weather as he does - even if the sweat on the bedsheets is beginning to pool at an alarming rate - simply because he wants you to feel loved, irreverent of his own comfort.

Oftentimes, as he is, said, knee-deep within you, you'll take him by the scalp and guide him to your neck, urging him to press his weight against you - exactly as you know he loves - just so you have him in lock and key, knowing he's unable to go anywhere until he cums, and you can - finally - whine into his neck about how handsome he is, and watch as he can do nothing but soak it in, too busy panting, grunting and blushing to respond. His face, his body, his voice, his personality, his tact, his pubic hair rutting against your clit - his everything. It's all perfect. And you'd sooner die than live in a world where he doesn't believe so.

It's why you've since taken your dedication to greater heights, explicitly professing your love for your husband in front of his boys whenever they come around, so John (and them) can see it isn't just an elaborate plot to ensure he puts his empty cereal bowl away in the dishwasher as soon as he finishes his breakfast in the morning, or to get him to wipe the crumbs from the toaster when the crumb tray gets too full, or clean the cigar ash from the ashtray on the dining room table - that he says he'll 'get round to' after he finishes his mountain of paperwork, which you know is false because it would take him weeks to climb.

It's really to make way for a kiss and a ruffle of his hair here, a hug and a grope of his butt there - just enough to let him know that, regardless of company, you think he's the most irresistible hunk of man in the room.

And, sure, the first few times are a little awkward for all of you, the boys included, as they feel they've encroached on something that best be left behind closed doors, but Kyle and Johnny - never Simon - swiftly come around to the notion that you showing your affection openly to John is a wondrous thing (Kyle truly thought, prior to then, that there might have been marrital troubles; he'd never even seen you two so much as kiss) and Johnny goes so far, himself, as to 'awh', whenever you peck John's lips, pinch his beard and call him 'cute', even if Johnny does get a sturdy bollocking from your husband back at base - it's oh-so worth it to see his Captain still madly in love after nine (almost ten) years of marriage!

And it feels like you've carried to full-term and subsequently birthed a healthy baby when you wake up to the sound of gushing water from the bathroom, to see John pat beard oil into his facial hair, stop, assess himself in the mirror, then mutter 'yeah, not bad', because Christ, it'd finally paid off.

| Masterlist |

[morbus-mlm]

Gravity Falls Headcanons/Things I Think About Often (Prev)

⍋ ⍋ ⍋ ⍋ ⍋ ⍋ ⍋ ⍋ ⍋ ⍋ ⍋ ⍋ ⍋ ⍋ ⍋ ⍋ ⍋ ⍋ ⍋ ⍋ ⍋ ⍋ ⍋ ⍋ ⍋ ⍋ ⍋ ⍋ ⍋ ⍋ ⍋ ⍋ ⍋ ⍋ ⍋ ⍋ ⍋ ⍋ ⍋ ⍋ ⍋ ⍋ ⍋ ⍋ ⍋ ⍋ ⍋ ⍋ ⍋ ⍋ ⍋ ⍋ ⍋ ⍋ ⍋ ⍋ ⍋ ⍋ ⍋ ⍋ ⍋ ⍋ ⍋ ⍋ ⍋ ⍋ ⍋ ⍋ ⍋ ⍋ ⍋ ⍋ ⍋ ⍋

- Mabel's modern artist who we heavily associate her with is Chappell Roan, especially her with the song HOT TO GO! Dipper deserves the same treatment but with Conan Gray okay. I need to see an edit of this silly guy set to Lonely Dancers.

- Pacifica lets her natural hair out once she leaves her family. It's closer to an ash blonde

- Wendy has always been a horror movie girlie, she's seen it all.

- Some of Wendy's friends made those "summoning ___ at 4 am" videos because they were bored, what else is there to do around this town anyways?

- pacifica is a youtuber, she's also a pretty sucessful pro-gamer. She is canonically very good with fps, so she decided to take it to a pro level.

- dipper creates some sort of mystery solving/ghost hunting/conspiracy analyzing show. It's a continuation on stuff he did in childhood (Dipper's Guide to the Unexplained).

- Mabel cannot be contained by a job title, she has done everything and anything creative. I feel like her main job would be something like a tattoo artist but on the side she sells sweaters on etsy, does drawing comms, animated, made music, she has her hands everywhere.

- Mabel, Paz, & Dipper will sometimes visit each other when working. I like the idea of Paz guesting on an episode of Dipper's mystery show, Mabel trying to play fps with Paz, Dipper visiting Mabel's tattoo shop and getting pierced there.

- Soos' keyboard getting decorated by the people he considers family. It starts with Mabel putting on like, five stickers on the bottom of it. Stan & Ford both carve into the sides of it. Dipper draws on it in marker. Melody writes words of affection on the sides/an inside joke between them. Abuelita is the one who etches Soos' name onto the keyboard case. Wendy writes like a cool, motivational quote on the case.

- the Hand Witch, her whole situation is looking towards the better. She and her man read as that one meme, "my witch gf" "me letting her do whatever the hell she wants"

- Wendy modifies her furbies. She is absolutely one of those people who makes long neck furbies and puts lights in their eyes/ears, she gives them hands.

- Emma-May & Fiddleford do not reconnect. Emma doesn't know about Fidd's work in the portal, but she does know about him losing his sanity. She does feel sympathetic and understanding towards his situation, but ultimately she doesn't want to force a romantic dynamic with him.

- There are parts of her that have moved on, there are parts of her that still feel anger, and sadness over what happened between them. She's happy that he's in a better state now and reconnecting with their son. Emma-May writes to Fiddleford, hoping that he has a good recovery.

- Fiddleford writes a single letter to her. He writes that he is sorry for not being their to support her, to help her raise their child. I feel like he would be very apologetic but not self-aggrandizing.

- There are parts of him that are still angry at himself, and ones that still wish to avoid dealing with such a difficult and messy situation. But he is a man who moves forward. He writes that he's grateful for Emma-May's wishes, and he wishes her well in return.

- Although their romantic bond with each other has severed, their relationship ends on a kind note.

- ford plays the fiddle, fiddleford plays the banjo.

- If Ford and Fidd were in a romantic relationship, those two would be reserved in public, but real tender in private. Those two read to me as more reserved with their romances.

- Stan after a while just tunes out their calls to each other. They will get in the fucking, "no you hang up" loop, or the "ily" loop

- they’re both pretty healthy when it comes to communication, boundaries, stuff like that. Ford drops the banjo curfew/cutoff when Guck lives at the shack/sets up his trailer next to it.

- Ford unlearns a lot of things instilled in him as a child. the ideas of him being the golden boy or something special (both in the positive and negative sense), are something he now recognizes as ideas, not reality.

- this realization really sets in for him due to a lot of reading, him catching up on modern sciences, including psychology. (it's mostly him almost losing stan)

- Stanley is trying to do the same with his own thoughts of being the screw up, the scapegoat, it's hard for him in different ways. Stanley is a person who, "would insult himself first before anyone else could get to it" without his bravado+con-man persona.

- But they both put in the work. They're good brothers, they help each other.

- both the grunkles favorite sweet after all these years is saltwater taffee, 

- I feel like Pacifica connects well with the adults in the town who aren't her parents. She doesn't exactly see any person as a parental figure, I think she just absorbs advice and experience from the people around her yk. Like her and Lazy Susan definitely have a stronger bond than Paz and her mom.

- Bill never really comes back, he just speaks like he has. In TBoB he acts like he's tough shit, but ultimately he's still in the psych ward-- like. This being has no real authority. I like to think therapy is working out for him, he has good days and bad days.

- Just based on my recollection, McGucket is a very agile man. He seems to be able to crawl up & down surfaces not built for climbing.

- I like to think that post series he takes up mountain climbing/hiking because by this point, he's less scared of supernatural beings compared to when he first came to Gravity Falls.

- McGucket dressing himself, McGucket finally being in a position where he can afford different clothing other than his slacks, him feeling present in his own body again. McGucket in green cowboy wear, (look i really like this Appalachian man, i would very much like to see him old and happy).

- Mystery trio (Stan, Ford, & Fidd) post-cannon. The twins travel the world, occasionally bringing Fidd along for the ride. Fidd is their guy in the chair, the person creating tech on the fly, their #1 man. These three men are absolutely on their way to adventure.

- the X-Men movies hold a soft spot for the Pines Family. They have all of them on DVD, usually the collectors editions. All of the Pines have a crush on Logan. The Stans both love older Logan—

- Mabel's room/home would be filled with little collectables (like tchotchkes or sonny angels)

- Stanley meets the Peanuts artists/goes to Knotsberry Farm. Stan gets a hug from Snoopy and he starts bawling.

- Shermie. I do not care if he is the elder or the younger, all I know is that he is the calmer sibling of the three. Is he well adjusted, (no, you kinda can't be if you were raised by Fillbrick), but he is the most normal.

- Stan's art is clearly influenced by the Peanuts, Ford's art influences are 80s sci-fi + realism. Shermie, his is Hanna-Barbera.

[batsylabs]

Hey, my sister wanted me to post this and I agree that the world should hear her massive-brained take. From here on out everything is written by her.

So, spoilers for The Book of Bill, but I need literally everyone to know about something that me and my sister have been talking about. On thisisnotawebsitedotcom.com, typing in DIONARAP leads you to THIS image:

Very specifically I need everyone to look at THIS part of it.

Very funny reference by itself, but my sister pointed something out to me that I cannot stop thinking about. The implication of this image is that it was either made by Bill himself or a member of his various cults. So, at some point, there was a Bill Cipher imposter that had to be called out by someone within his circle. This has two conclusions:

A delusional person dressed up as Bill and started to believe they ARE Bill, speaking fake bullshit that Bill would never believe. Bill finds this funny, but his cult is dumb enough that they can't tell the difference and he has to make it clear. He's never mentioned in the actual book because Bill just didn't care enough, he was some weird eccentric he probably killed or gave him infinite nightmares or something.

(what I think is the funnier option): There is another god that is visually mistakable for Bill Cipher but is NOT HIM. There is another yellow, top hat and bowtie- wearing god with triangular imagery probably named something cunty like Ash Caesar. This dude goes around doing the same shit that Bill does, but he doesn't want to build the portal and cause the apocalypse or anything, he just wants to lay back and be fed grapes like a king all day.

Bill absolutely HATES this man. With other characters, there's some ulterior emotion that he's trying to suppress, he's angry and embarrassed that Stanley outsmarted him, he's emotionally distraught over losing Ford, but Ash? This lanky, smooth-talking ladies' man that's probably been around as long as him and keeps stealing his thunder? There is no other deeper emotions, he just actually DESPISES him. His first thought with Weirdmageddon is probably "The second I find Ash I'm going to throw him against a wall repeatedly until he splatters into red paint." He is the only person not even mentioned in The Book of Bill because Bill is so unreasonably angry at him that he doesn't want to dignify him by including him in the book.

[mooooonnnzz]

hi!!! I fell in love with your content and I wanted to make a little request, since it was on my mind for a while...

It's kinda cringe but I saw your hc's/fic about Stan's and Ford's reaction to their daughter having a partner, but what would they say about the break-up??? how would they react?? 💔💔

I'm Glad There Is You

Stan + Ford HC's of you getting broken up with!

ʚ♡ɞ 4,2k words

ʚ♡ɞ we're so back

ʚ♡ɞ i've been cooking this up for the past few days mwehehe

ʚ♡ɞ i won't be publishing fics as frequently! but its better cuz i wont be pushing out poopy fics. i can actually take my time with them and make em better :3

ʚ♡ɞ that's all enjoy! request are still open too :p

🎱 Stan

𝄞 Stan hadn’t suspected a thing when he saw you rush into your room after being out all day. You occasionally do that when you were exhausted and had no more battery left in you to uphold another conversation. But, when he saw you all disheveled in appearance. Not bothering to glance at him, let alone tell him about your day, he knew something was up. Springing your wellbeing in the conversation was tricky. He knows that if he straight up asked if you’re okay, you’d burst out into tears and cry out incoherent words that sounded like mushed up sobs into his ear. So how could he ease you into talking about yourself without having you break down? For the remainder of the day, he was tackling himself with ways he could ask about how you’re doing, stemming from slapping a sticky note on your forehead to passing a note under your door. But none of them seemed effective. His brain was splitting into two. He couldn’t decide and the day was coming to a close. The orange overhang of the sun shone into the shack and Stan was contemplating on asking your partner why you were sad because if he didn’t know what was going on, your partner had an idea or the full picture. He decided against it though. Maybe this was something you’d rather keep to yourself? 

𝄞 The stress was so bad he had to go outside for a quick smoke. Seeing you in an emotional state of disarray sends him into one as well. He plucked a cigarette from his pack and pinched it in between his lips. Craning his head up a bit to light up the cigarette, he shielded the orange flame sparkling to life from the wind with his cupped hand. He blew a stream of smoke into the evening air, his electrifying nerves nulling into a soft calming buzz. He knew smoking was bad for him, but he couldn’t stray away from it in times like these. The door to the front porch painfully creaked open. Looking over his shoulder, he softly smiled upon seeing you. “Pumpkin,” He pats the side right next to him. You take the seat and inhale the crisp air—well, from what you can get with all the cigarette smoke littering the air. “Second hand smoking is way worse than first hand.” You mention, delicate amusement trailing in your words as you take a seat beside him. 

𝄞 “You’re the one who walked out here knowing I was smoking.” He replied with a flick of his hand. Another trail of smoke escapes his mouth as he exhales, his body visibly relaxing into the familiar routine. “I should get a cigarette too.” You stretched out your arms, cracking a small smile. “Heh,” Stan flicked the cigarette, small shreds of ashes trickling down from the burning end of the stick. “You think you’re funny.” You nod intensely. “I think I’m very funny.” You look off into the horizon, eyes carrying such a thick somber look to them Stan had to finally ask the question he had been beating around the bush for who knows how long. “You okay, kiddo?” 

𝄞 Your eyes glisten over with tears, bottom lip trembling as you hold back the words you’ve been dreading to say to your dad the minute news broke out to you. “Oh, [Name].” Stan burnt out his cigarette, his arm wrapping around your shoulders and bringing you closer to him. The pure affection coming from Stan made you pour out more tears, trembling sobs wracking your body as you mournfully cried onto his shoulder. “Let it out, sweetpea.” His hand comfortingly patted your back. This wasn’t how he wanted this to go, but maybe you needed a quick cry to comfortably tell him what happened. His stomach churned as the suspicion of the reason why you were crying into his shoulder rose. He had a feeling on why you were acting like that, but he had hoped he was wrong.

𝄞 He wasn’t wrong. He was right, unfortunately for him. After recollecting yourself to the best of your ability, Stan had discovered that your partner had broken up with you earlier today for reasons that they had not specified. Frustration bubbled up inside Stan and it took every bone in his body to not slam his fists on your ex’s door, gun in hand to shoot them down for breaking your heart. Instead, he opted to swallow down his anger and tend to you. You needed him to be right by your side and he wasn’t going to suddenly up and leave to shoot down a person. He’d wind up in jail and then you would have to deal with the loss of your partner and your dad. The thought sent chills down his spine. You peeled yourself off his shoulder, leaving a slobbering teary eyed stain on suit. “I’m sorry.” You mutter, eyes red and burning from the force of squeezing them closed. “It’s okay, sweetpea. You don’t need to apologize for things like this, you know that right?” His thumb swipes a stray tear off your cheek. “I know,” You hiccup. Stan seeing you like this infront of him shredded his heart into tiny little pieces. Who could hurt you like this? How could someone protect his child’s heart and break it the next day? Your partner even promised that they’d never pull a stunt like this, and yet here you are, bleary eyed and sniffily.

𝄞 Your face pinched with a forever sorrowful look and for a second he thinks that he’s never going to have you back, he’s never going to see your smile ever again and that alone terrifies him. There has to be something that can cheer you up, right? You’re not forever stuck in this pool of sadness? This is something someone can get over right? All prior knowledge to his personal relationship flies off his head and out the window. He removes himself from his thoughts and grounds him in the moment. What is something that’ll cheer you up? An idea sprouted in his mind. “Want to watch a movie with your old man?” He doesn’t know how you’d respond to his offer and it slightly scares him. He’s never been able to fully predict your every move, but he has made some sense of them later on, but he’s never seen you in this state before and he doesn’t know what to expect. “I’d like that.” You meekly nod your head and Stan has to contain himself from lurching up into the air and cheering out in happiness. Rather, he clears his throat and broadly smiles at you. “I’m gonna take a real quick shower. Pick out a movie you wanna watch and I’ll be back in no time.” 

𝄞 The rest of the night was spent snuggled up in the sofa, a blanket of yours of when you were a kid was draped over you and Stan. It barely gave you any coverage but you claimed that it did when Stan would mention it. Stan didn’t want to disagree with you and besides, the blanket reminded him of when you were a little kid, carefree and giddy with little to no knowledge of idiotic people who’d carelessly shatter your heart and leave you without any consolation. The movie that was playing was and still is an all time favorite of yours. You and Stan had memorized the lines that have been forever sewn into your brain from how many times you forced Stan to watch it when you were little. Guess some things don’t change. The days following are full of extensive care and love, enough that would be overbearing to anyone that wasn’t you–at least sometimes. 

𝄞 Fishing outings were a must. Stan would rapidly knock on your door, standing on the other side decked head to toe in his fishing outfit. Your fishing hat in hand. You couldn’t say no to him when he’s looking at you with such a sad look in his eyes and dressed up, putting on your worn fishing hat that has seen better days. Stan proudly smiled at you, wiping off a tear from the corner of his eye. “Why are you crying, Dad?” You chuffed nervously. “My eyes are sweating!” He covered his eyes with his forearm, violently sobbing as he walked away to get the fishing gear. In his defense, he hasn’t gone fishing with you in a good long while and seeing you wearing your fishing outfit really triggered the water works in his eye. The past week has been an emotional wreck for you and him, who could blame him? You had forgotten how much fun fishing was. A laugh rattles through your throat as you reel back your fishing rod. This must be your third attempt in catching a fish, and Stan’s enthusiastic commentary struck a funny cord within you. With a few more tugs and reeling back, you caught the fish. “Awesome catch!” He patted your back with so much force, you jolted forward, making the boat lean to the side, causing you to lose your footing and drop the fish in the water. When you were about to revel in your loss, you heard a large splash and large droplets of water sprinkling over you. You turned your attention over to where the splash was heard and to your luck, Stan bobbed his head out of the water, gasping dramatically as his arms flailed around. “Dad!” You laugh.

𝄞 “The water isn’t even that deep.” Talking was a task to do with how hard you were laughing. “Oh.” He stopped thrashing around and allowed him to sink to the bottom of the lake floor. And to his surprise, the water barely even passed his upper chest. That realization made you hunch over in laughter. “Oh, stop laughing!” He grabbed onto the edge of the boat and tried pulling himself up, but the sudden shift in weight made the boat tip over, sending you and all the other belongings in the boat into the freezing water. “[Name]!” He looked to where you were under the water, ready to dive in and grab you from below when you sprung out of the water. You stared at him, cheeks puffed as you struggled to hold back your laughter. “Oh, whatever.” His initial panic was washed off with playful annoyance. “Go ahead, laugh at your old man.” He rolls his eyes upon hearing your boisterous laughter echo in the air. “That was insane!” You wrap your arms around Stan’s neck, hoisting yourself up so you don’t drown while laughing. “Yeah, go ahead. Laugh at this poor old man who’s clearly struggling.” 

𝄞 Singing your favorite songs in your karaoke machine was his favorite way to catch you off guard. He’d notice you reminiscing on the past and he’d make a beeline to your machine, slamming the buttons that would turn it on and play a song that you like. His gruff scratchy singing voice always pulled you out of your mind and into the present moment. Walking into the living room where he relocated your karaoke machine for times like these, you couldn’t help but laugh as he passionately sang into the microphone. “Disco girl, coming through! That girl is you!” He points the microphone at you, motioning you over to join him. It takes some convincing but when you do, you and him are blissfully singing your hearts out into the microphone. 

𝄞 Seeing your partner around town was an immediate mood kill for Stan. Unaware and in a chipper mood, he found himself in the grocery store. Stacking up on food and snacks to fill your stomach and his. When strolling into the available cash register, his smile curls into a grimace when he sees who was behind the counter. “You,” he spat out. “Ah, Mr. Pines!” They nervously chuckled. “Good to see you. How’s it been?” They can’t make eye contact. The lazer like glare Stan was giving them was enough to know that things haven’t been good. Grabbing an item from the shopping cart, he hovered it over the conveyor belt, mulling over his thoughts. He could not pay for this and run out of the store or he could unscrew the carton of milk and squirt it all over your ex. Or maybe, he could do both? With speed no one could comprehend, he undid the lid and spilled the milk all over them, chucking the empty carton right on their head for extra measure. He then grabbed the cart and bolted out of the grocery store, leaving everyone in the store stunned. “Is anyone going to arrest him or?” A random passerby asked, watching how your ex just stood there, completely befuddled with milk dripping down their body. 

𝄞 “Dad? Why is the news saying that you assaulted a worker in the grocery store with milk?” Stan scoffed. “Don’t believe everything you see on the news, sweetie.” He takes a good sip of his pitt cola. “But it shows camera footage of you doing it.” You gesture to the video that was playing. “Fake news. You know how technology is advancing. They can make anything these days.” He grabs the remote and switches channels. “There! Now, we don’t have to see that.” You smile, elbowing him. “It was cool that you did that.” You mutter. He chuckles. “The kid deserved that.” 

𝄞 Drives around the town and wreaking havoc in rival attraction traps were a good stress reliever and anger outlet. You were swinging with all your might, your axe that was in hand was splintering through the large wooden statue. “Keep going!” Stan was serving as a lookout, his eyes switching through the front door and to you. Sweat rolled down your temples as you delivered one last final blow to the statue. The statue slowly tipped forward. “Let’s go.” Stan urgently whispered, running back to the family van with you in tow. Stan started the van and sped out of the parking lot and into the driveway. “God dammit, Stanley Pines!” The person emerged from his house, shaking his fist in the air. You clapped your hands together, laughing. “That was a fun one.” You noted, swiping the sweat off your forehead with your shirt. “Who’s next?” You ask eagerly. “Check on the map. You decided where we will go next.” This was the first time you fully smiled at him with your signature laugh following after. No remnants of sadness stuck to you. He knew right then and there that he got you back. 

📖 Ford

𝄞 Ford was peacefully slumbering on the couch when the front door was slammed shut, scaring him awake. He jolted forward, the book that was covering his face fell flat on his lap, startling him. “[Name]?” He closes the book in his lap and pushes it aside. You didn’t respond and he was quickly resorting to the idea that it wasn’t you. Creeping towards your room, his knuckles knock on the door. “Sweetie?” He puts his hand on the knob and very slowly turns it. “I’m coming in.” He announces. Opening the door, his eyes land on your back. Quiet sniffles and hiccups could be heard coming from you and Ford’s heart clenched in his chest. He never liked hearing you cry. “[Name]?” He settles himself down on your bed. He couldn’t get to see your face properly since you were curled inwards with your blanket slightly obstructing your face, but he could see your body quiver as you suppressed your sobs. Ford sucked his bottom lip into his teeth. Equally as clueless as his brother, he doesn’t know how to approach this. He hadn’t had the slightest idea of why you’re crying and that truly bugs him. 

𝄞 His hand rests on your hip, fingers tapping in a soothing rhythm. “Wanna tell me what’s wrong?” He’s chewing on his lip, anxiety running its full race through his body, relentless and awfully energetic. He’s sure by the end of this, he wasn’t going to have a bottom lip from how much he was nibbling on it. You shuffle further into your blanket in response. “You don’t wanna talk about it?” He croaks out. He never liked when you pushed him away in your most vulnerable moments. He knows you mean well but he detests being in the unknown. You let out a small hum. He had learned over the years that two hums were yes and one was no. It was a very asbured way to communicate but it did come in handy when you weren’t in the mood to talk. This was a way of telling him that you weren’t in the mood prevented Ford from asking an assault wave of questions.

𝄞  “Do you want me to stay here with you?” Two hums. Patting your waist, he shuffles to the other side of your bed and plops down right next to you, mindlessly staring off into the ceiling. His anxiety was still pounding through his body, his clammy hands and beating heart proved that but it quelled a little of it knowing that you wanted him beside you. That you found comfort in his presence. He’d hope you did, he didn’t raise you all these years just for you to hate him. Wait, you don’t hate him, right? You could never hate him. He’s your dad! Can kids hate their own parents? He hated his dad so that can be a generational—

𝄞 “I think hear your overthinking from here, Dad.” Your voice comes out muffled from speaking through the blanket covering your face. He blinks, swallowing his doubt and looking over to your blanket covered face. “Sorry,” he lets out a dry laugh, scratching his cheek. “It wasn’t my intention to annoy you.” You pull the blanket down to the bridge of your nose, allowing Ford to see your irritated swollen eyes. “You’re not annoying me, Dad. You being anxious makes me anxious.” Ford cracked a smile. “Like father, like child.” That managed to pull a smile from you. “Unfortunately, I grow to be more like you everyday.” You say with a roll of your eyes. An overdramatic offended gasp leaves Ford. “And that’s a bad thing, how?”

𝄞 Playful banter was tossed between the two of you, each quick remark and quip allowed you to pick yourself up from the hole you were cowering in. After a while, you mustered up everything you had and told him about the break-up. Ford really couldn’t believe it at first. You had to repeat it to him twice much to your dismay but once he caught what you said, his face fell. “They were a waste of time anyways.” He said with a flick of his wrist. “Dad!” You weren’t expecting him to come off so strongly over hearing the news. “It’s true. They couldn’t even take my work seriously! How could someone laugh at my face when I tell them that aliens are real? Someone is clearly stuck in the stone ages.” 

𝄞 He was riding on the mindset of you need to forget this person and move on. Wallowing over losing them wasn’t ideal and you need to distract yourself with other things to prevent yourself from dwelling back on the thought of them. He was done with your ex, so should you. But he was real quick to find out that you weren't exactly like him in that aspect. He’d find you resting on the couch, eyes mindlessly staring at the TV as you’re cuddled up with blankets upon blankets. Tear marks were stained on your cheeks. Maybe you couldn’t distract yourself? Maybe he should be the one that distracts you? He’d scribble drawings of you and him on a piece of paper and fold it up into a cute little airplane and toss it over to you. You would unwrap the little gift with a smile, tears clouding your eyes. “Aw, Dad...” You held the piece of paper to your chest.

𝄞 Your favorite dinner would be cooked almost everyday, and if you have more than one, you bet he’d be coking it up in the kitchen, offering different favorite meals every night. Anything that would bring the smile on your face back. Adventures out into the woods, just like old times, was a thing he’d bring you along with. Even when you did protest and groan, whining how you would rather cry into your pillow, Ford stood his ground and made sure that you got ready for the adventure he had meticulously planned. The minute you step into the familiar lush woods, a sense of calmness falls over you and suddenly you’re a kid skipping around in the woods, in search of anything to show Ford so he could write about the new discovery in his book. Finding old discoveries lightened a smile on your face and unknowingly to you, Ford would draw you in his book like how he did when you were younger. Old habits die hard. 

𝄞 A lot of nights were spent you talking your feelings out to Ford. He was a good listener and had a few quips of advice to lend over, since he’s been in a similar but not so similar predicament. But he was more intent on listening to your concerns and anxieties. “I can’t believe I let them do that!” You plop your back down on your bed, anger spilling out of you in sharp words. He shook his head, a very sassy “mhm,” leaves him. “They didn’t deserve you anyways.” He moved his finger side to side. “Why are you acting like that?” You laugh, gingerly pushing him. “Don’t your friends act like that when something happens?” You beam from ear to ear, a loud laugh escaping you. “No! Where did you even get that from?” Ford shrugs. “I don’t know. I just thought they did?” He pretended to act clueless and with a big smile of his own, he watched you curl up in laughter over his ridiculous act. He could only think of how much he missed your smile and beautiful laugh. 

𝄞 Seeing your ex at the mall was a surprise both for him and them. Ford was scanning the shelves in search of something to get you when they approached them. “Sir, do you need any he…” Their words die in their throat when they register who they’re talking to. Ford hasn’t made the correlation yet, his attention so wrapped up in finding you the perfect gift. “Do you need any help?” They repeat, their voice cracking. Ford lazily looks over to them, dismissing them before looking back. Then, a look of recognition washes over him and he whips his head over to them. “You!” He loudly yelled. Customers in the store glance over to them. “Mr. Pines, keep it down.” They stressed out, teeth gritted together. “I will–.” An idea came to mind. “I’m sorry.” He rolled his shoulders back, untensing them. They look to the side, uncomfortable with the sudden change. “You’re sorry?” They repeat in disbelief. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll be on my way.” A strained smile pulled to his face as he bid goodbye. Stepping out of the store, he sees you happily munching on a blueberry muffin you bought from the bakery. “Hi, Dad! You got anything?” He looks around you. “Do you have any food?” You place your muffin down on the table and grab the bag full of treats. “Yeah. I got some–” Ford dipped his hand in the bag and pulled out a cookie. His other hand digs into the inner pockets of his coat and pulls out a vial of pink sprinkles. “I knew I was going to use this at some point.” He mutters to himself, popping off the cork. “What are you doing?” You ask, watching as he sprinkled it onto the cookie.

𝄞 “You’ll see.” He winks at you before scooping it off the table and walking back into the store. Minutes later, he comes out with a big sinister smile on your face. “What did you do, Dad?” He pointed at the entrance of the store and it didn’t take long to see what he did. A flamingo human-like creature erupted into the store, squawking crazily as their head desperately swiped from side to side, looking for someone. Their black beady eyes landed on you and Ford. An angry squawk was heard from them, their chicken like legs slapping on the floor as they charged at you and Ford. “Run!’ Ford grabbed your wrist and darted away. In a quick swiping motion, you grabbed your bag full of treats before being whisked away. Loud bird noises were heard behind you and you couldn’t help but laugh. “Who is that chasing us?” Ford took a quick turn into another store, shuffling past people and hiding in a discreet corner with you. “That may be your ex angrily chirping at us.” You clapped your palm onto your mouth, an effort to muffle the laughter that left you. “Of course you’d do something like that!” The rest of the day was stealthily trying to escape the mall without being pecked to death by a very angry flamingo. When you did, you were laughing all the way to the car. “Do you always have that around for times like this?” Ford nods. “You’ll never know when you need to make someone a flamingo.” The automatic slide door pulls apart. “Pines!” The now fully turned flamingo human hybrid squawked out. “Get in the car, hurry!” 

Taglist: @boredwithlifeatthispoint, @lovexsage, @teddycricketdream, @theilluminatidragonqueen, @raventeen @cedarmoonzz, @katharine3000

dm or comment if you want to be added to my taglist :3

[fangirlingpuggle]

Please tell me more about your au where the twins are billford kids please please please

Hey there haven't been able to stop thinking about AU so here more additional thoughts

Mable and Dipper not knowing about their deal power until later, like Mabel accidentally making deal with Pacifica/challenging her and suddenly her hand is on fire '...that's not good' twins frantically trying to fix everything and now they have a no deals rule.

Well after some experimentation the twins wanted to know what would happen if they tried to make deals with each other... both hands catch on fire and well... Grunkle Stan watching TV and then turning head to see his niece and nephew turned in ash ans still slightly smoldering.

Others slowly finding out about their demon forms, Candy and Grenda they love Mabel's demon form and think it's so cool... they also help her experiment with powers... it usually ends in chaos.

Wendy finding out, realizing these 2 kids have had to live copped up indoors and not do anything like go to school and have friends and is instantly like 'I am going to make sure you 2 have so much fun, you are going to have coolest summer ever!'

Pacifica also finds out, because of demon deal but pretends she doesn't. It's only later she reveals.

Mabel: YOU KNEW IT WAS ME?

Pacifica: YOU WERE STILL WEARING A GIANT SWEATER OF COURSE I KNEW IT WAS YOU!

All the life threatening events are far more less threatening it's less my life is in danger more like I need to blow I'm not human/ I can't let my powers go crazy cause otherwise things are gonna get weird and maybe worse.

Whenever Stan hears the kids voices he automatically looks up he's really used to then kids floating.

Bill finding out he's parent freaking out and the Henchmanics are torn between 'WE'RE HONORARY AUNTS/UNCLES' and... welp fuck probably not gonna be able to make while worlds a party since Bill is already asking about how to baby proof the mindscape.

When Ford comes back it's him that faints this time... everyone else has known about him for ages.

Mable and Dipper have seen journal 1 and then journal 3 after Dipper finds it (Stan is not surprised, kid is so much like Ford of course he's find where the nerd hid it... now they only need the 2nd journal) Mabel's seen the writing about don't trust him about Bill and seeing journal 2 she puts together her parents aren't.... on the best terms. She still is on the matchmaking thing cause she has an ideal dream of 2 happy parents along with her twin, grunkle stan and big brother Soos.

Fiddleford even when meeting twins for first time in human form is terrified of them. He is scared every time and he doesn't know why just instinctual fear.

[shortie-stack]

I've seen a lot of posts comparing Bill and Ford (and for good reason, they are very much parallels and foils to each other) but I haven't seen as much exploring how Bill and Stan mirror each other. Where Bill saw Ford as a tool and maybe even sympathized with him because of their shared experiences (outcast by their peers for traits beyond their control, hungry for knowledge and prestige, isolated from friends and family), Bill sees Stan as the embodiment of everything Bill hates about himself. on the website, entering "Stanley" and clicking enter a bunch of times opens up pages from Bill's perspective about how stan defeated him. Bill maintains that Stan didn't actually beat him, that it was Ford's plan, that Stan just got lucky, but we know from the show that that simply isn't true-- it was Stan's plan and it was Stan that defeated him. It's interesting to note that bill is okay with giving Ford the credit for his demise, but Stan? unacceptable. we'll come back to that though.

To Bill, Stan is simultaneously everything he hates about himself and everything he wants to be. When listing all of Stan's faults, Bill calls him a "side character, a resume-inflating, cheap trick loving, past denying overgrown child protected by failure only by a forcefield of denial and shamelessness". who else do we know who ticks all of those boxes? Bill himself is a side character for much of gravity falls in the real world, but in the context of the show this statement shows his fear of not actually being anything special. sure he was powerful in his home dimension, but we see time and time again that there are other beings in other dimensions that are just as, if not more powerful (the axolotl, for instance). Bill takes credit for liberating his dimension when he really didn't, he "honors" his deals through loopholes and turns if phrase, and he shouldn't be throwing stones in a glass house, seeing as he's the one having a temper tantrum. Bill is also deeply disconnected from his past, if him telling us the story of the demise of his home dimension is anything to go by, and only digs himself in a deeper hole through putting on this cheerful, confident, powerful persona. Stan does the same thing, especially as Mr. Mystery. but the thing about Stan is that he grows and changes as the show goes on, while Bill's mindset is perpetual. They both were cut off from their family because of something they did (Stan messing with Ford's project, Bill by destroying his entire dimension), but Stan allows a new family to get close to him and chooses to make sacrifices to make his niece and nephew (and even his employees to some extent) happy. Bill on the other hand, surrounds himself with henchmaniacs, yes-men who just want to party and will follow him as long as he shows them a good time. Every depiction of Bill is a window for him to look through, and with so many in the mystery shack, it's certain that he sees Stanley, the embodiment of everything Bill hates about himself, getting what Bill thinks he could never have. and Bill hates it because it means that if Stan can grow and change and make peace with his past mistakes, it also means that Bill can too. But that would require Bill to actually be vulnerable and endure the pain that confronting your past (many, many) mistakes brings. He would have to acknowledge and accept that his home is gone because of him, that countless lives have been ruined because of him, and that the reason he has never been able to maintain close relationships is solely his fault. But he won't. And as a result, he will always end up alone, a king of ashes.

I think Bill thought of Ford as a way to fill his emptiness because of their similarities, and possibly also because he saw Ford as a form of redemption. Ford was brilliant and good and just like Bill and Bill saw that and may have thought, if he likes me there's no way I'm a monster. in a way, Bill saw Ford as the only one worthy of killing him because if it was Ford it was just a forgone conclusion: Ford hasn't made Bill's mistakes so he is automatically "better" than Bill and Stan, so obviously he could kill Bill. but to have it be Stan means that someone who has messed up in a manner similar to Bill has the capacity to be better. and that shakes Bill to the core.

[andypantsx3]

some barbarian bakugou thing idk | sfw | gn reader | 1.3k words

It's cold.

The fire crackles at your back, sending warm licks of heat up and over your spine, but it's not enough. You shiver, trying to settle deeper into the hard ground, drawing your cloak up over your nose where it's beginning to grow cold.

Normally, you'd be snuggled deep in your bedroll by now, but you'd stupidly tied it too insecurely to your pack this morning. It had come loose just as your group had forded the river on Kirishima's back, the redhead wearily but gamely shifting into his dragon form to get you safely across the rushing water.

As he plodded across, splashing loudly, your bedroll had tumbled into the icy water, and you'd watched mournfully as it had been immediately dragged under and carried downriver.

It was another day from the nearest town, another day before you could replace it.

When you settled into camp, Midoriya had chivalrously offered his own bedroll—which you had declined, as the loss of yours had been your own fault—and Uraraka had offered a warming spell—but you could see the exhaustion around her eyes and mouth since the battle yesterday, and she still looked pale and peaky. You thought another spell might finish her off for good.

But now you almost wish you'd taken either of them up on it, their discomfort be damned.

Almost.

Suffering the consequences of your own mess was the least you could do for them, really. You owe them everything for saving your life time and time again, starting when they'd first happened upon your village under a bandit raid, you the only survivor.

You've tried your hardest to repay them, stitching up wounds and mending torn clothes, taking over the cooking and fire tending whenever you make camp. Once you'd even talked a merchant down from chopping off Kiri's hand when he'd gotten a little too me dragon, must hoard over a ruby necklace at market.

You won't put everyone out over something as stupid as a lost bedroll, not when you owe them more than you could possibly ever give.

A cool wind whispers through the trees, and you can't suppress another violent shiver. You inch loser to the fire, barely caring if the sparks catch on your clothes and light you up in the night if it means you can be warm now.

You roll onto your side, facing the flames, and shudder again when the cold creeps under your cloak at the movement.

The heat feels good on your face, dry and blistering. But your back is suddenly freezing, and you fight down a groan of frustration.

You'll never get to sleep at this rate.

As soon as this thought occurs, there's the barest whisper of a bootstep behind you. Before you can turn, a hand claps over your mouth, and a hard body slides up against your back, an arm hooking decisively around your middle to pull you back against your assailant. The scent of ash and the sweet, floral oil he uses on his leathers gives away his identity immediately.

"Don't fuckin' scream it's just me," Bakugou growls low in your ear.

You blink dumbly, mouth pursing against his rough palm. "Fwuuh?" you say.

Bakugou Katsuki is notoriously standoffish, the member of your party you'd learned the least about in your weeks with them. A barbarian from the steppes, he's got little time or patience for your people's mannerisms. He seems to like very few things—his dragon Kirishima, his broadsword Hearteater, and the opportunity for a good fight being the exceptions—and you seem to be one of the things he tolerates the least.

He'd been the one who'd run his sword right through the bandit about to kill you, but since then he's acted like it was a mistake. He barely looks at you when you clean his wounds, he never accepts any of your rations when you offer them, and he's recently taken to combat training you, maintaining a harsh commentary on all of your best efforts.

It's a shame he's also so handsome and charismatic, as it makes it difficult for you to discount him entirely.

"Could hear your fucking teeth chattering from the other side of the campsite," Bakugou growls, his hand lifting off your mouth. Something heavy settles over you, and you realize he's arranging his cloak over you both, the fur trim tickling your nose. It's heavy and velvety and soft, and so nice and warm.

You know you need to protest but the heat of him at your back is so deliciously good, you want to relax into him like a warm bath.

"Bakugou—what is this?" you splutter out quietly.

"What, you wanna freeze your ass off?" he demands, his words a harsh breath into your ear. His arm shifts over you, pulling you tighter as if daring you to attempt to escape.

"No," you say, trying to scrape your thoughts in order. "No. But you—is this okay for you?"

"The fuck is that supposed to mean?" Bakugou growls into the side of your head.

"Well you don't exactly like me," you tell him, too exhausted to be circumspect about it. You know he doesn't like it when you talk around things either. "I didn't think you were cuddling type, exactly."

Bakugou huffs a dismissive laugh into your hair. "You always fucking decide shit on your own," he mutters. "You decide you owe us shit, you decide what's best for Deku and Uraraka to do with their magic and shit, you decide you think you fucking know everything. 'S fucking annoying."

You start, not realizing he'd cottoned on to your thinking process.

"Well I've also decided that you don't much like me," you say. "And I...I do owe you guys. You've saved my life countless times these past couple of weeks."

Bakugou makes a snorting noise behind you. "You fucking village people always think that's how the world works. Owing. A favor for a favor. Trading and bartering and stupid shit. That's not how it works out here, brat. There's no equal exchange. You stay alive if you're strong enough, or if someone likes you enough to keep you alive, and that's it."

His voice is even raspier than usual, you notice. He's tired. You can hear the impatience in the clipped sound of his words, and you know his exhaustion is why you're even getting this much out of him.

You're tired, too, the heat of the fire at your front and Bakugou's hard body at your back both lulling you into a lightheaded sleepiness.

"And you like me enough to keep me alive?" You can't help but ask dubiously.

"I like you well enough even though you're fucking annoying," Bakugou says, his breath stirring the hair at the base of your neck. "But I won't if you keep fuckin' talking."

You can't help but smile at that, a little tired grin touching your mouth.

"It'll be another thing I owe you for," you say, settling back into him at last. You know you will have other thoughts about this in the morning, but for now you can't help yourself. If he's fine with it then there's not much to protest.

"Y' can repay me by shutting the fuck up," he says, before he lets out a heavy exhale, as if he too is being lured into sleep by the warmth of your own body.

You decide to leave your questions about this for the morning. It's too much to contemplate what this means for your relationship to Bakugou. Too much to contemplate that he wants, for some reason, to keep you alive.

His hand presses to your abdomen, securing you even more firmly against him, and you close your eyes again. His breathing evens out, his grip growing slack, and you can feel your own body mirroring him.

Too easily, and without another thought on the debts you're accumulating to him, you slip down into sleep.

[rosewaterandivy]

wouldn’t know where to start

summary: she likes to roll here in my ashes anyway

pairing: former s.h. x f!reader

a/n: did anyone ask for this? no, but I felt it in my heart of hearts! we need some hangdog steve and Mother Nature working her magic— adrenaline, tension, & forced proximity, aka storm chaser!steve and his band of misfits.

series m.list

It was nearing sundown as he drove into the small town. Soft summer winds blew through the wheat fields, bending the golden stalks as if it were an ocean of glimmering sunlight.

Main Street didn’t have much to offer— a Sonic, Dollar General, and a lone 7-11 were the corporate standouts amongst a panoply of mom and pop store fronts offering everything from a homestyle breakfast to antiques to laundering services.

Letting his wrist hang against the wheel, he pulled into the turn lane and flipped on his signal. A lone ‘88 Ford pickup passed him by with a neighborly tip of the hat. He flashed a smile and wave as he turned into the gas station.

He parks the rig and cuts the engine. To his right, Eddie blinks slowly taking in his surroundings.

“This it?”

His voice is scratchy with remnants of sleep. He reached back to wake Dustin and Robin, the latter doing so a bit more spastically than the situation warranted.

She rubs the sleep from her eyes as Steve exits the cab and waits at the gas pump.

Soon, Dustin and Eddie start whispering about what supplies to stock up on from the gas station and stumble from the truck.

Robin stretches and rolls her neck before pressing her finger to roll down the window.

Steve is leaning against the dusty cab, marks of red and ochre cleaving to his white tee shirt as he watches the numbers tick by from behind his aviators.

“Hey,” She offers with a quick grin, “Kinda like old home week, huh?”

He nods and pushes off the truck stepping toward her window. His face is drawn behind his glasses, despite his closed lip smile. He pulls the ball cap from his head and runs a hand through his hair.

It’s a lost cause really. He’d thrown it on earlier at the motel before they’d rushed out of the room just before checkout time. Between driving all day and mediating arguments that broke out between his three stooges, there hadn’t been time to pull off and change in an attempt to make himself decent.

The hat goes back on but Robin manages to pluck the glasses from his face and place them on her own. She sticks her tongue out and rolls the window back up just as the pump stops with a click.

He can hear Eddie and Dustin bickering as they walk back to the truck— something about the drone and upgrades. Steve returns the pump and slides his phone from his back pocket, the screen brightening back to life.

He thumbs through his messages with a sigh and pauses at your name.

As expected, there’s no response to his earlier query. The message reads delivered but his heart still sinks at being rebuffed.

Still in TX?

He’d sent that weeks ago. And still, he had no clue what to expect. For all he knew, he could show up to find another family living at the property or your granddaddy greeting him at the door with his shotgun.

It could really go either way.

Settling back in his seat, he puts the truck in gear and turns back into Main Street. Robin, Eddie, and Dustin chatter about some such shit as he grips the wheel, knuckles flaring white the closer and closer they drive to the house.

Red dust kicks up under foot as he steps out of the truck. The white-washed house before him is bathed in a dull yellow light from the lone bulb on the porch.

He turns back to the truck.

He could just pack it up and head back now, it wasn’t too late. He hadn’t been spotted yet and no one would be the wiser. Robin catches his eye with her blue eyes wide, a slow shake of her head tells him to do the damn thing.

A storm door slowly creaks open, boots falling against the worn wooden planks on the porch.

“Well, well, well,” A gruff voice intones into the night air. “I’ll be damned.”

Steve slowly turns around, willing his shoulders back down from his ears, and pastes on a megawatt smile.

“Hi, Mr. Wilder,” He greets with a wave, “Long time, no see.”

The old man scoffs, “You can say that again.” The double-barrel of the gun remains trained on Steve, his eye never leaving the scope.

Steve clears his throat uncomfortably.

“D’you know where she is?”

He laughs in reply, a callous thing.

“I sure as shit know where you weren’t.” He steps down from the porch, a flood light flickering on and illuminating the front yard as he does so. “At the altar, where you swore to me you’d be as you begged for my blessing.”

Logically, Steve knew it was coming. But it was still hard to stomach— he was a coward and he well knew it too.

“Now, Imma give you the count of three to git off my property. Which I think is mighty fair of me, considerin’ you how you broke her heart and all.”

Steve slowly backs up, hands in front of his body as if to soothe a wild animal.

“Sir, I don’t mean any offense, but if I could just talk to her—“

A sudden gust of cool air blows through the trees. The gun lowers minutely as Steve peers across the horizon, searching for something.

Rolling black clouds from the west, gaining speed and moisture. The temperature drops as the evening birdsong falls to a hush.

Robin scrambles out of the truck, all gangly legs and stammering sentences.

“Steve, it’s headed toward us. The doppler—“

“I know. Rob, get the—“

“Already done.”

Eddie and Dustin fall into step at his side, equipment gathered in their arms.

The old man sighs, pinching his fingers between his eyes in frustration and defeat.

“You remember where the storm cellar is?”

“Yessir.”

“I’ll meet you down there after I lock up the barn and house.”

Thunder rolls overhead as Steve leads his team into your family’s storm cellar out back. Crashes of lightning illuminate the freshly harvested fields, hay bales bundled tightly.

Your granddaddy joins them not five minutes later, shotgun still in hand. The phone in his pocket rings shrilly.

“You know, if I never saw your ugly mug ever again, I’d die a happy man.”

“Yessir, sorry sir.” Steve responds sheepishly as Eddie struggles to contain his laughter.

He sighs again and brings the phone to his ear. “You sure as shit better be, Harrington.”

[old-man-triangle]

No but you don’t understand. Bill needs Ford. He needs him because Ford is the only being in all the multiverse that ever actually understood him. Because if everything goes according to plan, Bill will be able to burn this dimension to ashes, hand the last speck of dust over to Ford, pull out the last speck of dust of his universe and go “Look! We’re the same now!”

Because if there’s another being out there who accidentally caused the destruction of their universe, then maybe Bill isn’t such a terrible monster after all!

Even better yet, if Bill can manage to convince Ford to go along with it, Ford would have willingly caused the destruction of his universe, meaning Bill would no longer be the worst monster in existence

But also it would finally bind Ford to Bill properly. Not by contract or anything like that, silly, but by the mere fact that they’d literally only have each other

Ford wouldn’t be able to leave him again!!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Stranger 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Destroyer!Chris

Summary: A stranger buys the farmstead nearby and disturbs your sleepy village life.

Part of the Backwoods AU

Note: My first time writing this character!

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

Your nails are crusted in dirt as you kneel in the garden. You grunt as you wrestle the roots of weed from the soil and toss it aside. You wipe your forehead with the back of your glove as you hear the screen door snap shut. Your grandmother stands on the stoop, her hand on her achy hip.

“Did you hear, dearie?” She calls in her creaky voice. “Someone’s moved into Clyde’s old house.”

“Huh?” You catch your breath as you gather up the broken weeds, “it’s half ash.”

“Suppose they’ll fix it up,” she mutters as she leans on the narrow iron rail along the side of the backsteps.

“Suppose,” you agree as you stuff the green and brown foliage into the paper bag for the compost. “Who told you that?”

“I was just talking to Lynette on the phone. She also said Molly’s having her fifth.”

Five kids? You hide your chagrin at the thought. You don’t mind kids but that’s a lot to handle, let alone the pregnancies. Molly balloon’s up so big she can hardly move. Her last shower, she sat the whole time. Not much different than you, you guess. You sat in the corner and watched the silly games

“That’s exciting,” you say as you stand and dust off your knees, crumpling the top of the bag in your other hand.

“Ah, I’m sure you woulda loved to have four sisters? Maybe brothers? It’s a pity your mother never gave me any more grandchildren.”

“Mmm,” you suppress a frown, “yeah, well…”

“Anyhow, enough talk of spoiled milk,” she waves off, “I got a pie in the oven. You can take it over the Clyde’s once it cools.”

“I… why would I do that?”

“Oh my, don’t be ridiculous. We have a new neighbour, we have to be polite and welcome them to the village. It’s probably a nice family, or maybe someone your age. A friend?” She suggests, “I’d do it myself but I don’t think I’d make the walk…” she looks down at her hip, theatrically rubbing it. 

“Right,” you agree, the prospect of strangers making your tummy lurch. “Well, that pie will take some time.”

“Long enough for you to put on something clean,” she tuts as she looks down at your dirty jeans, “my lord, what would they think?”

“Yes, gramma, I’ll change, once I get this in the compost.”

“Good,” she smirks triumphantly and turns to swing open the screen door, the hinges whining shrilly.

You sniff and cross the yard. It’s not often there’s new faces in Hammer Ford. The village is a tourist trap at best and not a very lively one. Everyone calls each other by name and it’s second nature to stop and say hi. But that’s because you know each other; you have for years.

You lift the lid on the large bin and empty the bag into it. You could always lie and hide the pie in some bushes. Your deceit wouldn’t be hidden for long. Even in this sleepy place, word travels fast and someone always seems to be watching and waiting to pass it on.

🥧

You head out with the pie in a basket like some fairytale. You’re only short a red hood and a big bad wolf. You set off down the country roads, following the lazy curves towards the horizon. It’s after noon and the sun’s turning mild as it drifts across its pale canvas.

The old homestead is the second closest to your grandmother’s. The homes around Hammer Ford or sprawled out amid the plowed fields and green meadows. The cluster of old pines loom over you as you pass in there shadow and crest the hill that marks the edge of the property. Clyde’s tractor used to sit there, just by the broken down fence.

Ahead, down another stretch of road, this path unpaved, stands the decrepit house. The tragedy still singes the memories of the villagers. That night comes back to you in a blaze of orange and the smell of cinder. Poor old Clyde was buried behind Sacred Stave church.

You search the overgrown grass for a sign of life. There’s a black truck by the caved in garage but that’s about it. It might not be a family. It’s a lot of work to do with little ones around. If anything, it would only be the parents as they rebuild. Your mind wanders, wondering who would buy the old farm and why.

You come down the path, just along the ditch that dips behind a cluster of brambles. There’s a snap and a crack and you skid to a halt on the stones. You spin and look around, a heavy breath pluming into the air. Like the fire reawakened.

“Can I help you?” The deep timbre rolls through you and you step back on your heel as you face the man down in the ditch. He peers up at you above the scraggly top of the brambles.

“Uh,” you gulp and stare at him dumbly. He might think you’re lost. Or worse, trespassing.

His hair is short, only an inch on top and shaved even shorter around the sides. His beard is thick around his mouth, growing sparse across his cheeks, and two vibrant blue eyes beam back at you. The way he looks at you makes you want to shrink away. You can sense the city radiating off of him. He scares you.

“Hello? What’s up?” He waves as if trying to wake you up.

“Um, pie?” You say, cringing at your own speechlessness.

“Pie,” he repeats flatly.

You hold up the basket and blink. You never were very good at introductions. You were the only girl at school without friends. You were just sort of there.

“Pie,” you echo once more and hold out the basket.

He tilts his head, curiously, and huffs. He juts out his jaw and grunts as he pushes the brambles apart and climbs out of the ditchy. His denim jacket is streaked in dirty and pollen.

He takes the basket by the handle, his rough finger brushing yours. He peels back the cloth and to peek inside, “pie.” He utters the syllable a fourth time between you.

“Yeah,” your voice is wispy and small. “Bye.”

You let out a strained breath and spin, keeping yourself from breaking into a sprint. You stomp away frantically, smacking yourself internally for being so awkward. Well, maybe that’s a good thing. He’ll have no reason to talk to you ever again.

[the-outcast-conman]

Introduction, or Something

Technology is crazy these days, all these kids and their phones--

Anyways! I'm Stan Pines, former owner and head of the Mystery Shack in Gravity Falls, Oregon, which I'm pretty sure might not exist here but I gotta say it so you know I'm qualified.

No clue how I got here, or how I'm alive after all of that chaos, but I'm here now and that's about to be everyone's problem!

(Also, big thanks to @phantomjokerofhearts for helping me set this up. That kid's a smart one.)

Update, I should probably list my . . . Pokemon guys, or something?

Dolly the "Flamigo", she's literally a flamingo and I love her

Roscoe the . . . "Mimikyu" I guess? He's dressed like some kind of a crow in a witch's hat

And Frieda the cat. She hatched from an egg, I'm still confused at how a cat came from an egg, also she's apparently a "Meowth"

Out of Character:

Hello again! It's Lily! AGAIN. Welcome to the blog for DF!Stan Pines.

Divided Falls is a collaborative Gravity Falls AU/RP by me and several of my friends, taking place in rotomblr because reasons. Other blogs in this AU so far are @s1llystraws (Bill Cipher), @broken-pine-tree (Dipper), @fallen-shooting-star (Mabel), @a-lost-author (Ford), and @violet-ashes (Scalene and Euclid).

My main is @boom-fanfic-a-latta, follows and likes will be from there.

Please keep things SFW--while I'm not a minor, I'm still very averse to anything NSFW, and there ARE minor who interact with this blog.

Pelipper Mail and Mystery Gifts are ON!

[themostlyharmlessfandragon]

Here are some secrets I've found in the newly unlocked thisisnotawebsitedotcom.com. Everything in all caps is an input you can use in the computer.

(First of all, you can add stickers by inputting MABEL to the computer until it says it has been fully Mabelized)

Using the rune substitution cipher (and word hippo because not all the letters are clear), this says CURSED.

Using the bros secret code this says SORRY.

This is only visible when lightning flashes. It says VALLIS CINERIS ("valley of ashes" in Latin according to google translate).

There are many different places to click on this page but clicking on McGucket Labs gives you a message from McGucket that includes the input HECTORING.

Clicking on the Book of Bill gives you a message from Ford that includes a reversed version of the author's substitution cipher. It says AD ASTRA PER ASPERA.

There are many other inputs that you can put in to get results but these are the ones I've found so far that are hidden by some degree. Let me know if you've found something in the site! I'm excited to browse the tags later to see if someone's figured more stuff out.

[man-down-in-hatchet-town]

JOANNA'S FAMILY NEEDS HELP

A new Greater Gatsby is out today, and even though she's not in this particular episode, now's a great time to talk about Fig and Ford's very own Claudette Knickerbocker, the fabulous Joanna Sotomura, who among other things has elevated quite a few Tin Can and Shipwrecked projects with her wonderful talents.

Joanna is from Hawaii, and her family owns a Christmas store in Maui. The store's employees, all residents of Maui, have been greatly impacted by the horrific wildfires, many losing their homes, and Joanna's family has set up a GoFundMe to help them rebuild their lives from the ashes. You can even keep your donation from being publicly listed if you so choose.

In order to avoid opportunistic scammers, people are understandably being encouraged to send their donations to established, well-known organizations, so more private fundraisers like this one will not be getting the bulk of the attention. But since we know Joanna and that this is not a scam, it is a great way to help in the aftermath of Maui and know exactly where your money is going--into the pockets of these everyday people devastated by a horrible tragedy.

If you're looking to cast a wider net, I'd also highly recommend the Maui Food Bank, the Maui Strong Fund, or the Maui Humane Society if you want to help out some furry friends.

I know times are hard and money is tight. I mean, I'm working two jobs and still barely making my meager ends meet. But at least I have an apartment/home to stress over paying the rent for. A lot of the people of Maui can no longer say the same.

If you haven't already, please help if you can!

[birdiely]

Something Uniquely Human

The first chapter of the Bill Cipher redemption fic is here boysss. (There's no billford in this fic btw sorry, gamers.)

Something Wicked This Way Comes

Smoke covered the horizon and the sky had faded into a deep red. Buildings empty, and the nearby forest devoid of all life. Rubble was scattered throughout the streets. Where there was usually the hustle and bustle of the day, the chirping of birds, and the humming of small bugs, only silence remained.

Stanford walked slowly, cautiously, throughout the abandoned town. He looked behind himself quickly, the overwhelming feeling of being watched taking over him. When there's nothing, he continued on. His breath was shallow and strained. He could hear his heartbeat in his chest. A deep, agonizing feeling swirled around in his stomach, begging him to run away, to hide and close his eyes. And yet he continued his slow descent down the road.

Something broke behind him, a small crack traveled to his ears, making him spin around. His breath caught in his throat; nothing was there. The buildings, the road, the trees lining the horizon line–it was all gone. He found himself completely alone in a vacuum. Frantically, he whipped his head around, scanning the area desperate to find any discernible features. He looked down, he was standing on the only piece of grass for miles stretching on into eternity. The darkness around him threatened to swallow him whole. He was small and vulnerable in the great vastness of nothing. Fear was gripping him so hard he felt as though he would dissolve into a pile of ash at any second.

He looked out to a sea of stars. He could feel each one staring him down, judging him. Myriads and myriads of eyes all fall on him. An all too familiar laugh rang out and bounced around his head. He felt so sick; it was unbearable.

The ground beneath him crumbled and gave way. He fell, disappearing into the void. No one can hear him. No one is there to help him. He woke up.

—---------------------------------------

The smell of salt and fish filled the air. The sound of waves rising and falling had become so normal it faded into the background and eventually was tuned out.

Ford shot up with a gasp, hitting his head on the low roof above him and falling back down. He took a moment to breathe before sitting up with a groan in the small space under the deck of the Stan o’ War II. He swung his legs off of the bed and rubbed his hands over his face. He's always had chronic nightmares; ever since he shook hands the eldritch horror he was naive enough to call his friend. But the past few days had been different. They were getting worse, more vivid and surreal. The fear of his nightmare had followed him into the waking world. The nausea did too, so he forced himself out of bed and up to the main deck to eat and hopefully settle his stomach.

A familiar sight calmed his nerves, at least a little. Stanley sat laid back in a fold-out camping chair, cigarette in one hand, fishing pole in the other. He losely held onto the handle, more so holding it between his thighs. Ford walked passed him, sluggishly making his way to a small mini fridge, digging through it like a raccoon through a trash can, before crashing harshly in a chair of his own.

“You look like you're in a good mood,” Stan said, puffing out a cloud of smoke as he spoke. Ford turned his head towards him with a deep, tired, scowl etched onto his features. Stan turned his head too, not fully seeing him out of the corner of his eyes. He snorted in amusement when their eyes met and had to quickly turn away to choke down the laughter. Ford's face softened with a quiet, humored nose exhale.

“When do you think we'll get there?” Ford asked. Stan took another puff and answered, “We'll meet the port by 3…ish?” Ford hummed in response, looking out into the ocean. Still after all this time he finds himself completely mesmerized. “How many of those have you had?” He gestured to the cigarette. Stan lifted an empty pack and waved it in his face with a grin and a snicker. “Just today!?” “Hey, I gotta get it all in now y'know?” Stan put his hands up in mock defense.

They had been slowly making their way back to Gravity Falls for a few days now. Soos generously offered up the shack for them to stay in during their visit, and they were both over the moon to hear that Dipper and Mabel were coming back to visit as well. And yet Ford couldn't shake this gut wrenching feeling. As each day passed and as they grew closer and closer, he found himself more and more anxious. Today was the day they made it, and he was drowning in dread. He tried his best to logic his way through his fears but that didn't stop the nightmares from getting any worse.

Around evening they made it to the sleepy little town they had called home for so many years. Ford was terrified that by the time they got there there wouldn't even be a Gravity Falls left, his heart expected fire and terror and death. He was relieved when instead he was met with smiling faces and warm embraces. The sky was clear and blue, the familiar scent of pine and grass filled his senses, and the distant sounds of woodpeckers mirrored the distant calls of seabirds he had grown so used to. Yet, somehow, something still felt wrong.

When they finally walked the winding path to the Mystery Shack, Stanley smiled on seeing Soos’ face light up with their arrival. He wore a suit and a couple of shiny, silver rings. He ran towards the twins with his arms outstretched and almost tackled Stan to the ground with the force of his hug. Stan laughed it off and patted his back in return. When it was Ford's turn he grunted as all the air was squeezed out of his lungs.

“Oh dude, it's like, so good to see you two bros! It's been since forever!” “Yeah, feels good to be back,” said Stan, and they both followed Soos into the house. Melody was carrying a box from one of the back rooms. She stopped for a second when the three of them walked in. “Oh hey, look who it is! So good to see you guys,” she greeted. They exchanged a few words, but truthfully Ford wasn't paying close attention. The aching feeling in his chest only seemed to get worse now that they were physically in the shack. Soos led them to the spare bedroom, he had kept it clean and mostly empty apart from two twin sized beds and a dresser with nothing in it, just in case they ever visited. Stan and Ford thanked him for his generosity, and they spent a while unpacking and making the room feel like their own.

That night was uncomfortable to say the least. Ford lay staring at the ceiling of a room he hadn't been in in years, let alone slept in. The room was cold, there was a loud box fan rattling and struggling to stay on filling the small space with noise. Stan was in the bed next to his. Ford didn't want to sleep. He didn't want to shut his eyes and see horrors beyond human comprehension, and he didn't want to open them back up in another nightmare. To some extent he felt like a child, trying to stay up all night to avoid a bad dream, wanting to hide under his covers from the monster under his bed.

Stan must have noticed how lost in thought he was because he whispered in the dark room, “Hey, what're you thinking about, Sixer?” That snapped Ford out of it briefly, and he turned to his brother with a surprised expression, like he was shocked anyone could perceive him. “Hm? Oh, nothing. It's fine.” He answered. Stan scoffed, “Yeah, right. You look completely fine right now.” Ford didn't appreciate the sarcasm, he rolled his eyes. “Come on, tell me what's on your mind. ‘Share with the class,’ like Mabel says.” Ford smiled fondly before his face scrunched back into a grimace as his mind began to fill back up with what if's. “I'm just worried, I suppose.” “‘Bout what?”

Ford paused to think. What was he really afraid of? The world spontaneously bursting into flames? The earth opening up beneath his feet? His arch enemy coming back from the dead? He threw all of those thoughts away from him, writing them off as fantastical and impossible. Or at least highly improbable. “I don't know,” he sighed. “It's probably nothing and I'm just being paranoid again.” He chuckled humorlessly, but Stan nodded his head in understanding and suddenly he felt so much less alone. “It's just….a lot–being back here, being in this house.” “Yeah, I get you. But hey,” he reached over the space between them to lightly tap Ford's arm. “Try not to think about it too hard. By tomorrow everything will be fine.” Ford nodded his head and Stan rolled over to sleep.

Ford didn't get much sleep that night. He stared upwards, mind unable to put itself to rest. Stan on the other hand snored loudly next to him. The noise drowned out everything else, but Ford had grown used to that long ago.

—---------------------------------------

The next morning was better. Soos had made a big breakfast, laying out six plates on the table. The kitchen was bright and cheery, the morning sun lit up the room with a gentle orange and the open window let in the melodies of songbirds.

A light conversation was passed around the table. It was stopped abruptly at the sound of two knocks at the door. And then two more. And then the knocking turned into a rhythmic song. Everyone's eyes lit up hearing it; of course they knew who was on the other side, no one else would knock to the tune of Taking Over Midnight by &ndra. Soos swung open the front door excitedly, and the Stans followed close behind him to welcome the bright-eyed teens. Soos lifted Dipper and Mabel off the ground in a lung-collapsing hug. When they got through the door the two of them nearly knocked Stan to the ground with another round of tight hugs. They were almost his height now, although Mabel had a good two inches on Dipper, and Stan ruffled their hair affectionately.

The breakfast was filled with cheery conversation and fond laughter. The teens watched in amazement as Stan waved his arms around retelling their sailing stories. Ford smiled and rolled his eyes hearing how he was embellishing.

“And Poindexter here would've died! Lucky for him he had the world's best brother to save his skin.” Stan smugly wrapped his arm around Ford as he told the story. Ford chuckled and slapped his hand away. “That is not what happened.” “Right, like you would know? You were busy being all smoochy with that siren.” He made mocking kissing sounds at Ford and cupped his hands together. “Get a load of this guy.” Stan pointed his thumb towards his brother, cupping a hand over that side of his mouth as if he wasn't sitting right next to him. Ford opened his mouth to retort but his sentence was cut short by Mabel slamming both her hands on the table. “Shut up! You're telling me you met a real life mermaid?!” “Well, technically no.” Ford chimed in. “Mermaids are a purely fictional half-fish person derived from Greek mythology. What we encountered was a siren, who are almost completely fish and only appear human as a lure for exhausted sailormen.” Mabel slumped back down in her chair, slightly disappointed.

“That sounds incredible,” said Dipper. “I can't believe you guys got to go on so many cool adventures while we've been stuck at highschool” “Hey, I think just being around that kid who tried to backflip into a bunch of cactuses was adventure enough.” Mabel elbowed Dipper as she spoke. “Cacti.” Dipper corrected. “That's what I said?”

They gathered their plates when they were done eating, taking their conversation with them as they washed dishes. The rest of the day went just as well. The teens took a while unpacking and setting up the attic. Mabel spent extra time making the small space look “aesthetic.” They spent a large part of the day just catching up in the living room. It felt nice; to be in the house everyone had suffered so much in 5 years ago, and instead be huddled up around the TV laughing and telling stories. For just a moment it made Ford feel calm, he felt like while he was here with the people he loved so much nothing else but them mattered. No one could hurt him.

But as day came to a close, as pinks and purples painted the sky, something just didn't feel right. Soos and Melody were in the kitchen making dinner, humming and dancing in between stirs of the pot. The pair of twins, meanwhile, had started a movie trilogy. However, by halfway through movie one it was clear the internet had absolutely no sense of what a good movie was, and they took to mocking it for entertainment instead. Ford laughed with the antics of his brother and Mabel for a while, but kept catching glimpses of an increasingly antsy Dipper out of the corner of his eyes that worried him. Eventually, shortly after they had started the second movie, it seems Dipper couldn't take it anymore. He stood, and tapped Ford discreetly as he left the room. Ford waited a second before following him so as to not look suspicious. When he did stand up Stan reached for him and snapped for his attention. “Grab me a soda on your way back, will ya?” “Sure,” he answered, brushing him off in his mind, and continued toward Dipper in the hallway.

“Grunkle Ford, can I talk to you about something?” “Of course, son. What's on your mind?” “Well, I…” he thought about it for a second and rocked on his heels awkwardly. “Nevermind actually, it's nothing, I'm sorry I bothered you.” “Dipper,” Ford put his hand on the boy's shoulder, “Is something wrong?” “Yeah, kinda. It's just that ever since we left home I've been having these awful nightmares. And now that we're physically here…But that's stupid.” Dipper kept his eyes anywhere but Ford's. Ford's previously soft and understanding expression hardened into one more serious. “That's not stupid, my boy,” He squeezed his shoulder and sighed. “They're just night terrors, Dipper. There's nothing here to be afraid of.” He wondered who he was really trying to convince, Dipper or himself. “I know,” He admitted with a look of defeat. A moment went by as Dipper carefully chose his next words. “I know you're probably right but lately I've been so worried that-” He trailed off. “Grunkle Ford I have to make sure it's still there–the statue–I just have to. Will you come with me?” He looked up at the older, young eyes full of grief and desperation. In too many ways he looked just like Ford. “Of course.” Ford replied. Truthfully he needed to see it too. He hoped that seeing the statue–now probably covered in moss and bird poop–would put both of them at ease.

“We'll be back,” Ford said and he strode through the living room with Dipper trailing close behind him towards the front door. Stan waved at him half heartedly, paying too close attention to the movie to even process what was being said. The door to the Mystery Shack creaked open and shut. A wave of thick summer air hit them both and wrapped around them like a sweater. The walk out to the forest was filled with awkward small talk and light banter. Ford secretly hoped that if he kept talking the eeriness of their destination wouldn't consume him. He wondered if Dipper felt the same way.

The forest was lush and small animals filled the air with song and trills. To anyone else but the Pines family it would've been calming and serene. After an agonizingly long walk, they finally arrived at the small clearing where the statue lay.

They stopped in their tracks, and all conversation was forgotten. Ford's heart sunk to his stomach, and his stomach threatened to vomit it back up and onto the grass. A beating so loud it rang in his ears drowned out any outside noise and engulfed his thoughts. His face drained of all color and his hands felt numb.

Where there was once the ominous statue of a being long since dead, a reminder that the world would never again be blighted by the evil that lurks beyond this world, there was now a body lying curled up in the grass. A lanky, tan man with mostly blonde hair apart from his dark roots lay motionless in front of them. Remnants of stone peppered the area around him. “Dipper. Get back in the house.” Ford couldn't take his eyes off the scene. “But-” “Now!” Dipper tried to protest but was quickly shut down. He ran the opposite direction back towards the Shack.

Ford's mind raced a mile a minute and any explanation to what was happening just raised more questions than it answered. He had no idea how long he had been staring, but it must have been a while because soon his concentration was broken by the sound of Stanley shouting his name behind him. He broke out of his trance and looked over to Stan with a horrified face. “Stanford what's wrong? Dipper said something happened,” He was holding a crowbar and had it raised like a bat. Ford's mouth opened but no words came out. He continued to stare at the figure in utter disbelief, and Stan followed his gaze. Stan dropped his weapon slightly, “Oh sugar honey iced tea.”

[vagueriddles]

THISISNOTAWEBSITEDOTCOM NEW STUFF LIST !!!

(very vague bear with me this is just stuff I've tried putting in, SPOILERSSSS)

Dipper - A letter from presumably Bill telling him how to solve the book - by staring at the sun for 13 hours straight to read the solar powered ink.

Mabel - Adorns the scene with stickers :)

Soos - LONG letter from Soos to us?? Anyways Mabel is telling him what to write about and there's PINATA in all caps on the last page.

PINATA - A video of a girl hitting a Bill shaped Pinata with what's either actual Alex Hirsch or a very good impression voicing Bill's agony.

Waddles - redirects to pigplacementnetwork

McGucket - Redirected to Cotton Eyed Joe.

Ford - An xray of an 18 year old Ford's hand and a case report stating how remarkable his six fingers are, with a blacked out line at the end that goes "if I could kidnap him and bring him to our secret cloning lab." (Yikes)

Stan - redirected to brass knuckles on Ebay

Tad Strange - a video of sourdough being cut with.... oddly sensual music?

VALLIS CINERIS (this phrase shows up on the wall in the top left corner when lightning flashes) - a video of baby Bill from the book with two other triangles with a robotic voice repeating "why did you do it" (the phrase is also a reference to the great gatsby and the valley of ashes)

TJ ECKLESBURG - "NEVER MENTION THAT NAME AGAIN"

PORTAL - "PORTAL.EXE HAS BEEN DELETED. I BET YOU COULD BUILD ONE"

SEASON 3 - "SEASON 2"

SEASON 2 - "SEASON 1"

SEASON 1 - "SEASON -1: ANTI-GRAVITY FALLS"

BOOK OF BILL - "HIDE UNDER SHIRT DURING PLEDGE OF ALLEGIANCE"

Wendy - A note about a "totally legit way to ward off evil triangles on the bottom right corner of the book"

Robbie - a convo between Robbie and Thompson, before and then after which they find Bill and find out how they die? Picture included.

Gideon - Gideon singing and then saying "I love you forever mabel"

Mystery shack - Redirected to Confusion Hill on google

Gravity falls - "NEVER HEARD OF IT"

Disney - "RAT.GIF HAS BEEN CENSORED FOR YOUR PROTECTION"

Alex Hirsch - redirected to "flannel" on google

Bill + Cipher - Redirected to "jazzy triangle meets square square on youtube"

Blind eye - One of those sight test charts and it spells out "WKHBOOVHH" (leaving this to the book solvers lol)

Ducktective - "DUCKTECTIVE STARS IN 'LOVE, QUACKTUALLY' COMING TO 'OI, ITS THE COCKNEY CHANNEL INNIT' THIS FALL"

HELP ME/SAVE ME - A video of a Bill statue in a tank with an Axolotl

Axolotl - "YOU ASK ALOTL QUESTIONS"

Weirdmageddon - newspaper from gravity falls gossiper: "NOTHING HAPPENED"

Pines - "A GOOD FAMILY TREE"

Pacifica - Letter from Pacifica :)

Platinum Paz - A short story about Pacifica almost making a deal with Bill???

(Not words but other stuff if you press the screen)

Mason - a note from dipper to ford, later responded to by Ford as well talking about anagrams, there is one there as well, and ford mentions his CRYPTOGRAM CODEX

Cryptogram codex - downloads a file, I can't open it bc I'm on my phone but it has cipherfonts a and b, strange runes and 'Theraprism'

Theraprism - whatever this is

Knife - A page about the "Cipheropticon" and Bill-Hunters almanac

Skull's gold tooth - Get out of death free card!

Book - letter from Ford :) with this code on the bottom

(Also tells Bill to choke on glass)