#gravity falls drabble

[viceroywrites]

stanley pines' love language is words of affirmation.

pick-up lines that have you grinning at how cheesy they are.

pet names that have you rolling your eyes in amusement at how creative he can get with them.... did he just call you baby cow?

compliments that seem to wash away any insecurity that you may have, a frown set across his features when he sees you tugging at a piece of clothing in the mirror or huffing over your appearance.

"hey, what do you think you're doing, picking apart my favorite person?" stan says gruffly, hands resting on your shoulders. pressing kisses all over your face before cupping your face in his hands.

"none of that, alright? you're gorgeous, should put you on a dollar bill instead of those wrinkly old men." he grins.

[the-universal-sun]

Sorry this took a bit, tumblr just straight up deleted half of what I had written and I had to have a bit of a cry before I got back into it. But! Thank you so much for the request, I hope you stuck around this long to see it through! I did have fun writing it, these two are so cute and stanley deserves all the care and love in the world! I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it!

With all the Love in the World,

XX

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

"Okay now, Stanley, it's nap time. Go and pick out what book you want me to read to you since we finished the last one. Go on." Ford ushered his brother, who had been little for a better part of the day, towards their little book nook, it's just a small shelf Ford had put up with some books aimed towards young children, Stanley added some fairy lights to make it more fun. Ford did have to admit the lights were a nice touch, making it seem cozy and warm. They just finished reading Charlotte's Web last week, and Lee loved it for all that he cried during it. Ford was worried at first, thinking the book was too much, but once his brother was feeling bigger, he explained how crying did make him feel better, getting all those "icky feelings" out in a way that didn't involve hitting things. He still doesn't quite believe him, but he'll acquiesce for now.

Ford waits patiently, Lee wants to pick his books alone, the tone of the book deciding how he felt, how young he felt, in that moment. It's a good indicator, though he would love to help Lee pick put a book sometimes when he's feeling small, he can't help it, Lee always looks so cute when he's concentrating and trying to make a decision. If he was allowed, Ford would take a million photos of that face, alas, his Little brother is camera shy. A tugging at his sleeve pulls Ford's attention away from his thoughts, Lee holds a book out to Ford, looking down and his feet his face red. Ford commits that face to memory to draw later, he looks so cute. He wants to pinch his cheeks and kiss them. Moses, he's turning into Ma'. Ignoring those thoughts, Ford grabs the book, another small chapter book, and reads the title.

"Oh, Lee. Are you feeling smaller right now, hmm?" Ford asks with a smile, holding the first Winnie the Pooh book in his hands. It's an old one, Stanley picked it out from a thrift store in town, the worn cover reminding him of that nice old woman, the one who made him Poindexter and his quilt. Ford wonders if she may possibly be alive somewhere.

His Lee shyly nods, rocking slightly on his feet and tangling his fingers at the ends of his hair-the mullet had been cut and evened out-the actions tugging at Ford's heart strings. His brother was so cute. He has to draw this when Stanley’s napping. "Well that's okay, Lee. You know I don't mind if you feel smaller today. Do you want to nap on the bed or do you want to make a bed in the living room?" Ford would prefer Stanley wanting to nap in bed, but if his twin really wants to, he'll drag every blanket in the house down stairs and make him a nest.

"Mmm..." Stanley rocks, finger going up to tap at his lips, Ford lets it as long as his brother doesn't start biting at it. After a while, this is a very big decision for his brother to make, Stan points upstairs in the direction of their rooms, wanting to nap in his bed. Ford takes his hand, Stan can be unsteady when he's feeling small, and walks up stairs with him. He makes sure to go slowly, reminding his Lee to hold on to the stair rails so he doesn't fall. "...can do it..." is the only response Stanley gives, pouting all the while as he holds the railing with one hand and Ford's in the other. They slowly make their way to Stanley’s room, turning the lights on to reveal his bed, outfitted with his favorite teddy bear quilt and his beloved Poindexter. Ford still can't get over how...complicated he feels knowing his brother named his stuffed animal after him and how deeply he's cherished it for a decade now.

"Come on, Lee, up up in bed, I'll tuck you in." Ford pulls back the comforter and quilt, helping Stan up and settled in bed, one time Stanley slipped off the bed when he was feeling small and Ford's panic about his tears caused even more crying-it was a rough day. “Let’s get you all nice and tightly tucked in, Lee. Right, bud? As snug as a bug.” It took Ford a while to get used to this childish talk, he’s still embarrassed by it sometimes, but Stanley loves it. It’s starting to come more naturally to him as he keeps talking in this manner.

“...’n a rug?” Lee asks, chewing on his finger. Which Ford swiftly replaces with a rabbit pacifier he has laying on the bedside table; not Lee’s favorite but Ford thinks it’s rather cute. His brother’s hands are already torn up, and he’d hate for them to get worse before he finishes perfecting and experimenting with his healing salve. It’s main purpose is to reduce inflammation and scarification on the first two layers of the skin initially, with more permanent healing taking place after being used consecutively for several days-

“As snug as a bug in a rug, Lee.” Ford cuts himself off. This is no time to be thinking about his projects, not with his Little brother in front of him. Stan is what, who, his focus needs to be on. He leans down and presses a kiss onto his brother’s forehead as he starts to meticulously tuck in the covers.

“...’n Poindexter?”His brother asks around the pacifier. Stan holds his ragged teddy bear up, as if presenting the toy for inspection. But Ford knows what his brother is really asking for. He presses a loud and overdone kiss on the plush’s head, biting back a smile at the giggling bursting forth from his brother. He needs to keep his brother calm or else he’ll never nap. He’s just too cute though. 

“Yes, of course I’ll tuck your friend in with you, Lee. Nice and snug as a bug.” He tucks the toy in his brother’s arms, pulling the beloved quilt up, covering the two of them and tightly tucking the corners in. Ford smoothes back his brothers hair, it's grown out a bit from that rather horrendous mullet he had all those months ago.

“In a rug!” Lee giggled, kicking his feet beneath the blankets. Ford bit back a coo, his brother hearing that would be way too embarrassing for him. He sat next to his brother, bundled and tucked in tightly with his quilt, and opened the story book Lee picked out.

“Are you ready for your story? Or do you need to get more situated first, Lee?” Ford asked, looking over to his brother. His brother who was clutching his bear and staring up at him. Staring as if he had hung the moon. Moses, Ford cleared his throat, his heart is going to give out on him one of these days from how sweet his brother looks. “Story time it is, then.” Ford turned to the first page-

“Voices.” Ah, of course.

“Yes, Lee, I’ll do the voices, too.” He turns back to the first page of the book, face red at the thought of even attempting to do Winnie the Pooh’s voice. Stan really has him wrapped around his finger.

Ford wouldn’t have it any other way.

[voidofthevoidmv]

What Journal????

(A gravity falls AU-> Name pending)

(Simple idea, what if Dipper never found the 3rd journal. Maybe when he switches that secret switch, a wire got crossed or the electrics were faulty. What would happen to canon if Mabel and Dipper never had Journal 3 as a crutch? Would it be a detriment, or possibly a good thing? What would they do instead of investigate the secret of the author, because how would they know? That is what I plan to explore in this little whatever… I just think it would be funny that everyone would be talking about these journals, or like whatever and meanwhile these two 12 year olds are sort of just winging it the whole time. Surprisingly enough, not a lot changes… That much.)

Tourist Trapped: (Prologue)

On the cusp of the wooded thicket bordering the forests of Gravity Falls, a young boy by the name of Dipper Pines could be seen hammering up signs. He didn't seem all that enthused by the idea, and his expression really said it all.

“Stupid Stan... Making me do all his dirty work...” He murmured under his breath, brown eyes narrowed while he made his way to yet another tree. He began lifting a hammer to plaster yet another terrible advertisement towards “The Mystery Shack.” The place which was supposedly going to be his home away from home for the next upcoming few months- If he even survived long enough to make it that far.

So, he continues to grumble to himself, despite his clear discomfort and presses the nail against a tall pine, truly selling the look of distaste with a very fashionable rolling of the eyes and a furrow of his brow.

“...Nobody ever believes anything I say...”

TING!

“Huh?”

How peculiar, he tests the waters once more to ensure he isn't hearing things. But after a few more taps with his mallet, it was clear by the ringing sound of metal on metal that this tree was apparently made of tougher stuff than that of your average spruce.

Very strange. The 12-year-old could sense an almost excited feeling stirring his gut.

He smooths a small hand over the seemingly slick face of the not-tree- And to his surprise his fingers found a sort of hatch-like lip, to which he was quick to attempt in prying open. He succeeds after a few good tugs, and the sound of old rusted over hinges squeal over years of neglect.

Dipper takes a moment before peering within the unknown chamber, to wipe his hands on his shorts and wave away the cloud of dust that came with the containers pressure release. He also had to bat away a few disconnected cobwebs as well, which billowed in the nonexistent breeze. Once the dust clears, the boy finally gets a decent look at the hidden compartments' contents. It’s a little mechanical box, rusted and clunky. The top part of its dusty face has two small activation switches. It’s clear that the device has not been touched in quite some time. It’s likely it doesn’t even function anymore.

Even so, of course, the 12-year-olds first instinct is to mess around with the device. He at first attempts one of the little switches, flicking it a few times but to no avail. Nothing happens. So, he tries the next one, though this next switch has a more volatile reaction than the one prior.

“Ow! What the-”

There was a sharp spark this time, and he flinches back harshly whilst clutching his once hovering hand. In the process in this motion, he drops everything he had been carrying, and it all lies in a small scatter beneath the not-tree. The tip of his pointer finger and thumb are both reddened and buzzing from the short burst of electricity, that had stuck him whilst he had been flicking the other switch. Brow furrowed, he places the stinging fingers in his mouth to soothe them as he glances around again. Almost hopeful.

But alas, other than giving him minor electrical burn that felt like they were beginning to blister, nothing had happened at all by flicking the switches. Whatever those activation doodads had been meant to do, Dipper would never know, because the box was clearly faulty. That was a shame. Maybe it could’ve had some answers as to why he’d been feeling so extra paranoid lately. There’s a beat of silence beyond the ambient forest noises, and while itching his mosquito bites from earlier Dipper suddenly feels a little self-conscious- And almost ridiculous.

“Maybe I am overthinking this stuff…” He murmurs sullenly to himself.

A short distance away, the goat named Gompers bleated quite unhelpfully. Dipper couldn’t help but sigh again, and while nursing his very slightly blistered fingers, he began towards his dropped tools and signs.

However, before he could grab the last of the signs leaning on the not-tree, a blur of fur and teeth whizzed past his nose making him let loose a very not-masculine scream- something along the lines of “MONSTER!”- and the shock causing him stumble over his own feet and collapse onto his bottom. The stuff he had been holding now scattering once more.

After a few minutes of catching his breath, Dipper glances upwards only to find some kind of squirrel family had made themselves at home in the once sealed shut secret compartment. He couldn’t help but feel silly, cheeks reddening as the embarrassment sank in and the adrenaline died down.

“Great. Just great. Maybe I really am going crazy…” Dipper stumbles to his feet in order dust himself off while glancing around yet again, and for a moment he chuckles awkwardly.

“At least nobody saw that…” Suddenly, a blur of color jumps out from behind a nearby log.

“GET EXPOSED!!!”

“AAGH!!!”

Once again, Dipper lets loose a very girlish scream, causing the colorful interloper to burst into obnoxious laughter. Though, the interloper happened to have less beast like features, and more middle school, preteen girl features. Very FAMILIAR features.

After a few moments to collect his bearings, Dipper tried to ignore his embarrassed pink cheeks and glowered harmlessly at his twin sister, who now seemed to be wiping a stray tear away and recovering from her laughing fit.

“Mabel…” He groaned irritably.

“…Oohhhh you should’ve seen your face! You were all like- AH! And I was like- BOOM! And you were like AH-” However his twin sister Mabel seemed more intent to reflect on how great of a scare she got out of him. It was humiliating really. Dipper began to pick up the dropped signs and hammers and nails AGAIN, still gazing at his giggling sister.

“Har-har-har. One of these days Mabel, you're going to give me a heart attack.”

“Yeah right, that’s if a squirrel doesn’t do it first. You heard me bro-bro. I saw the WHOLE thing!”

“Greeeaaat…” His sarcasm was practically palpable in the air, but Mabel clearly either couldn’t tell or just didn’t care and continued onward. Though if it counts for anything, she did wordlessly liberate a couple signs from his hands to lessen his load. It helped to temper his annoyance with her in the moment. He couldn’t really blame her; he was sure that it probably really was funny to spook him like that.

Still annoyed though. Still annoyed.

They began to walk together through the woods, with Dipper tacking on a sign here and there without much care or enthusiasm in the action. Unlike Mabel, who happened to hold enough energy to power the entire state of California.

Twirling around in front of him, Mabel had that look on her face that spoke volumes of what her current mood was in the moment. She was sort of an open book, and Dipper could tell that this was the kind of love-struck expression he recognized- Which was beginning to be more trouble than it’s worth nowadays.

“Ohhh Dipper, you're NEVER going to BELIEVE the MAGICAL day I’ve had!” She nearly trips on a tree root this time in her twirling but catches herself just in time. Dipper could only shake his head. Here we go…

“Let me guess. You harassed another kid to try and date you?” He inquires, to which Mabel giggles rather forcefully, chopping a home-made sweater sleeve in the air.

“Pshhh! NOPE! Well, close.” Dipper rolls his eyes this time, though the corner of his mouth tilts upwards with almost amusement as his sister continues to yammer on about her latest attraction.

“-SO BASICALLY- At the cemetery today-”

“-Wait, you were at the cemetery? When did you have time to go to the cemetery??” Mabel only waggles her long sweater sleeves in his face as an immediate response, making him splutter and stick his out his tongue. She takes before continuing without any lack of enthusiasm.

“That’s not IMPORTANT. So BASICALLY, I was walking, you know, like I DO, and then-”

“Bleat!!!” Both twins are then startled by the goat Gompers again, who had chosen that very moment to start chewing on the back of Mabel’s sweater again. After a few moments of wide-eyed staring, Mabel’s eyes softened and her rosy cheeks puffed out as she started to coo over the goat. The GOAT of all things.

“Awww… I guess this isn't the kind of thing we should be talking about with prying ears around, huh?”

“What? Why, did something happen?” A flash of alarm strikes Dipper, and he glances over at his sister uneasily- Who only guffaws at his reaction before hovering over the goat even more than before.

“Pssshh, nah nothing like that!” Covering Gompers ears, she poorly stage whispers with a faux look of sympathy. Or it could've been completely genuine, it was hard to tell sometimes. “I just don’t want Gompers to feel jealous.”

Dippers worry quickly dropped to zero, and he leveled his sister with an unamused stare.

“Of what? You breaking the world record of quickest restraining order?”

“Guh! It’s called TRUE LOVE!!! I’ll tell you later…” In that moment, a flash of cheekiness crossed the glitter obsessed 12-year olds’ face, and she dropped the signs without much care.

“Hey, last one to the shack has to be on Stan waxing duty!!!”

“What!” The boy screeched with barely restrained terror. Let it be known that Mabel has always been good at bringing out others enthusiasm. Dipper certainly was no exception to this rule, so without much of a grand flourish he too casts the signs aside and with earlier horror melting away, he grins competitively at his twin.

“Yeah right! You're on!”

With that, the race was on and as the two twins sped off along the outskirts of the forest and back towards the ramshackle cabin in the distance. Good natured laughter resonates in the air, as they hop over logs and try to trip the other up, oblivious to the futures they left behind. Perhaps in another timeline, in another world, that switch would've worked the way it should.

Perhaps in that timeline, they would've found a mysterious journal, speaking of the great wonders that reside in this fair town. A journal that would be their crutch during danger, that would save their lives on many an occasion, and risk them just the same amount.

-But that is not what happened. Maybe a few wires had been crossed wrong, or something more external, but that switch never worked and thus the old book is never revealed...

Yet somehow, this changes everything and nothing all the same.

No cheating and no hints, but the Pines always did have a knack for getting wrapped up in the paranormal. It might be a genetic thing, but whether they like it or not, they could never live a life mundane.

...It's time for the blind to lead the blind, and let it be known that a Pines has never gone down without swinging...

They'll figure it out. Probably.

***

Thus it begins… I have the next little part ready to go, but I kinda wanna see how people react to this and if folks are interested in the concept. I just think it’s kinda funny- And it gives me a chance to look over the transcripts again which is sort of like watching the show

(I can’t go on Disney cuz I’ve been logged out and don’t remember the password lol-)

[localcanadiancreature62]

Fiddlestan au memory tapes quick drabble

@maya-custodios-dionach this one's for you.

"So Mcgucket,are you ready to see your memories?" "I don' know. What if ah don't like what i see?" "You have to,it's your only chance of knowing who you are" Mabel remarks as Mcgucket then nods and watches as the braces girl puts in the memory tapes. A young Mcgucket appears on the TV screen as the twins hear a familiar raspy forced cough. "Fiddlesticks,are ya sure that you wanna do this?." Young Stan asks in the background of the video as he holds onto the camera while Fiddleford glares at him. "Of course i'm sure,darlin'. Now get the darn camera rolling. Anyway. My name is Fiddleford Hadron Mcgucket,and i made this new invention so that i can unsee what i just saw. Something terrible. Test 1. Subject name,Fiddleford Mcgucket." Fiddleford remarks as he closes his eyes and blasts the memory gun on himself. The scene then switches to an amazed Fiddleford as the second test comes around. "It worked!. I don't remember a thing!." Fiddleford exclaims as Stan rolls his eyes behind the camera as he does NOT want to do this although he compromised for the sake of his southern nerd. "But ya still remember me,right?." Stan asks as Fiddleford looks at him once more. "Course',Stan sweetheart. Now onto the next test." Fiddleford replied as he left the frame but then before the next tape plays,Mabel gasps in shock from discovering that Stan was actually dating Mcgucket. "GRUNKLE STAN WAS BOYFRIENDS WITH MCGUCKET?!. WHY DIDN'T HE SAY ANYTHING?!." Mabel yells as Fiddleford looks at her confused,as he too doesn't remember being with the con man. "Now i've seen everything. I can't believe it. Grunkle Stan,and the town kook?." Dipper says as he shudders in slight disgust. Fiddleford then expectantly looks at them both. "Look children,ah don' know about me datin' yer uncle either. But before ya start jumping to conclusions,let me see the rest of my memories first " Fiddleford remarks as the twins nod and play the tapes again. A more deranged Young Fiddleford appears onscreen with various crossed out eye symbols in the background. "I made a community where people can use my invention to unsee the things they saw!. The experiment is a success!." Fiddleford exclaims happily as Stan sighs in disbelief in the background. "Fidds,isn't this getting a little out of hand?. This sounds kinda nuts with the whole 'community' thing." Stan asks as he refers to his southerner's cult while worrying for his sanity. "You're nuts!. I'm finally picking up mah life again after that insufferable bastard ruined it and now you're going to get in the way too?!." Fiddleford shouts as the grifter starts to grip the camera harder,if the audible static-y sounds of him playing with the camera are anything to go by. "Jeez. Relax. I'm just worried for ya,y'know?." Stan replied as the southern man ignores his comment and the scene switches to an even more unstable Fiddleford. "I did somethin' bad. This was a mistake,i'm forgettin' my name my job and everything!." Fiddleford says as the scene quickly switches to Day 189.

"I accidentally hit someone with mah car. I feel tegible,t-terrible. Terrible. I've been forgettin' words lately. And Stanley.." Fiddleford remarks as even in his slowly slipping sanity,he holds onto the memory of the grifter whom he has already abandoned at this point. "I seen something!. Something big!." "I realized that i've been losin' mah hair,so i got this hat from a scarecrow!. Get outta here ya darned critters!." Fiddleford says as he tries to shoo various animals away from his place at the dump. Fiddleford then utters incoherent gibberish as he makes a triangle symbol with his fingers over one of his eyes as the tape ends. "Oh, McGucket, I'm so sorry." "Aw, hush. You kids helped me get my memories back, just like you said." "But did you want those memories back?" "After all these years,I finally know who I am. Maybe I messed up in the past, but now that I seen what happened, I can begin to put myself together again." "I won't be able to put MYSELF together again after hearing that you and Grunkle Stan were apparently lovers." Dipper remarks in disgust as Mcgucket and Mabel laugh. The rest of the episode goes exactly as canon,with Mcgucket saving the gang from getting their minds erased by using his own empty mind as a shield as Dipper then erased the Blind Eye Society's memories of their own cult as he and Mabel go home after happily helping the town kook.

[themurphyzone]

Gravity Falls 100 Word Drabble: Seeds

Written for the Gravity Falls Writing Guild drabble session.

Prompt: Seeds

Rowan Corduroy’s father is dead, one of many casualties of the Great Flood. 

Northwest Manor looms over the decimated forest, its splendor tainted by broken promises. 

Someday, they’ll answer for their crimes. 

But Rowan is not their judge. He focuses on revitalizing the forest, so that his children and his children’s children will never experience such devastation again. 

Like Johnny Appleseed before him, Rowan carries many bags of seeds upon his back. He’ll renew the valley and honor the fallen for their labor and fortitude. 

On his father’s grave, he plants a pine seed, the symbol of resilience and rebirth.   

[saint-transfag]

Woe, bittersweet Mabel + Stan stangst drabble be upon ye

[multi-fandom-imagine]

Please, write something about facesitting with Stan and Ford, cuz with those giant noses I know its good.

A/n: 👀

Warnings: Oral sex, female receiving.

•Stanly Pines•

Stan love's nothing more than to eat you out though the moment you let it slip that you want to try something knew the man tease's how can he ever go back.

You're adorable, so adorable,

Stan can't help but smirk at your shy request, feeling his cock twitch in anticipation. He loves when you take control like that, it’s so damn hot.

"Anything, for you angel, though who knew you were such a naughty one."

He purrs, gently guiding you to straddle his face. His strong hands grip your hips as he eagerly starts to devour you, his tongue expertly exploring every inch of your dripping pussy.

Your cries only fueling his own desire as you tried to move, Stan's hands clutching preventing your movement as he held your hips tightly.

He moans softly against your folds, the vibrations sending shivers down your spine. Stan's fingers dig into your skin as he worships you, determined to make you feel good. He loves the taste of you, the way you squirm and moan above him only fueling his desire.

You can feel his hot breath against your sensitive skin, his tongue flicking and teasing your clit with expert precision.

Stan's hands roam up your body, squeezing your breasts and teasing your nipples as he continues to eat you out with fervor. He’s completely focused on giving you pleasure, lost in the moment as he worships you like the goddess you are.

“Mmm, you taste so fucking good, baby,”

Stan groans, his voice thick with desire. He’s completely under your control, eager to please you in any way you desire. His cock strains against his jeans, desperate for release, but right now all he cares about is making you feel good.

•Standord Pines•

It all started in High School for Ford, he was tutoring you well doing his best as you complained about your boyfriend refusing to eat out which lead to you dumping him. You didn't know why you told him, maybe it was because you had a soft for him a crush and you were hoping that he would notice your feelings despite you being popular.

Though it didn't take long for you to try it, neither of you had experience and looking back on it, you couldn't help but chuckle at your first time with Ford though that night lead down the road of your experience with your six fingered lover.

Ford had gotten better, more experienced with sex when it came to you. One particular memory came to mind, you two were running from some asshole on some planet and one thing lead to another as the man had you pinned to the wall. Bottom's gone, panties hanging off your ankle as your legs draped themselves across your lovers shoulders.

You head hitting the wall as your eyes closed shut as your fingers wove through his hair. "That prick in the bar said he could eat me out better?" You had a teasing tone to your voice but you wanted to see Ford's reaction.

Ford's eyes darken with possessiveness and desire as he hears your words, as his glasses nearly slip off his face . His hand tightens on your waist as he adjusted your legs so you were more comfortable

“Like that bastard knows you like I do! I am going to show you what it’s like to be worshipped properly,” his voiced muffled by your thigh, his breath hot against your skin. The hunger in his eyes is undeniable as he eagerly waits for you to take control and give him what he craves.

Ford groans softly as you settle on his face, feeling the warmth and weight of you on him. His hands grip your hips firmly, guiding you into the perfect position as his tongue eagerly darts out to taste you. He moans in delight, the vibrations sending shivers through you as he starts to worship you like you deserve.

His tongue explores every inch of you, licking and sucking with skill and precision. He's relentless in his pursuit of your pleasure, making sure you feel nothing but bliss under his ministrations. The sounds of your moans and gasps only fuel his desire, and he's determined to make you unravel completely with his touch.

Your fingers gripping his hair, tugging at the silver strands, your eyes squeezing tightly shut.

He devours you with a hunger that matches his possessiveness, wanting to show you just how good it can be when you're with someone who truly cherishes you. And in this moment, with you on top of him, he's proving just how much he adores you. He may no longer be that fumbling teenager but Ford loves you and he'll always make sure you know.

[flame-cat]

stan gets the portal going and gets ford back. ford is big mad and wants nothing to do with him. stan doesnt make it far before his car breaks down. tries to fleece the people in town to get it fixed. ends up making things much worse for himself. a week passes, hes chased out of town, the cops are after him, and hes maybe a bit starving. a tiny bit. maybe. so the cops find his car and chase him out into the woods, he loses them. but he finds something else.

something hungry.

he dispatches it, but not without losing both quite a bit of blood and all sense of direction (and any faculties he had left). he stumbles until he sees a vague structure. he knocks on the door.

ford answers with a crossbow for the second time.

this time, stan cant manage a sarcastic response.

ford goes from shocked, to appalled, to bemused in seconds. "what are you doing here?"

stan blinks at him. "i dont know."

a few shivering seconds pass. stan starts to list sideways. ford catches him on instinct. before either of them know it, stan is being lead to sit on the couch.

"... what happened to you?"

stan curls inward and winces. "got caught, i guess."

its clear hes fading fast. ford resists the urge to shake him. "why are you still in gravity falls?"

stan struggles to think of an answer. "i couldnt... engine froze over."

ford did not consider that. "... ah."

there is another long pause.

"... and you didnt think to get it fixed, or take a bus, or...?"

stan laughs hollowly, then that laugh turns into coughing. he doesn't explain why thats so funny to him.

"... right. i believe you're delirious," ford assesses. "i'll be right back."

damn him. always cleaning up his brothers messes.

when ford gets back with a blanket and some coffee, stan is either asleep or unconscious. he is also bleeding quite a lot.

... maybe he shouldnt have left him alone.

[yan-randomfandom]

Hi! Is it possible to get a platonic Yandere Stanford with a teenager reader? The reader likes mysteries and monsters and all that just like him, so Stanford sees them and he’s like ‘yup. That’s my kid now’ lol

P!Yandere!Stanford Pines & Teenager!GN!Reader

warnings: violence(toward monsters), implied abuse

[THIS IS PLATONIC] I think I made this a tad too long... it's not even in bullet form anymore. thank you for the request! I love your idea sm 😭 [Word Count: 1047]

Stanford Pines has completed another mission. He lifted his head, his eyes squinting at the sight of the looming trees. The sun peeked between them, visibly on its way down.

To keep it short, he had to chase a dangerous, vile monster into the woods and take its life.

He probably saved thousands of lives. It's just that... it came down to the price of being lost. Ford has never gone this far from Gravity Falls before.

That's totally okay. Curious, even! This is perfect material for his research! He'll have to use a makeshift one for now—this cheap notebook he got from the gift shop.

As he was about to start writing, a panicked roar reverberated throughout the forest. Such strong growls—enough to blow away his clothes and body! Ford had to see it with his own eyes!

He ran and ran until he finally saw the giant. A single, widened eye stared at him, and suddenly he couldn't move anymore. Heavy breaths rose and plunged from his chest.

But he didn't have to worry any longer. A figure hopped down, continuously slicing the middle part of the eye as they descended.

Ford grunted, falling on his back as its blood squirted and leaked, even having some splatter on his nose. He watched the monster turn and run away, knowing that it'd die soon enough.

"Woah! Grandpa, you okay?" A small hand filled Ford's vision. "You froze up pretty quickly. I bet you'd be dead if I wasn't here!"

Once his vision finally cleared, he paused at the sight of a teenager. He's never seen this kid before. Ford cleared his throat, accepting your hand and standing up. "I'm fine. And don't call me that."

You hummed, tilting his open wallet with a nod. "I dunno. Being in your sixties sounds pretty old to me."

"What? How— When— Give me that!" Ford swiped his wallet out of you, to which you respond with a silly grin. He scoffed, crossing his arms. This is such a Stanley thing to do. "Who are you even, kid? Why are you out here?"

"I'm out adventuring!" you declared, placing your fists on your hips. You do certainly have equipment fit for an adventurer. "I mean, did you see me back there? Killed that monster with one swipe!"

Ford rubbed his chin in deep thought. He smiled. "That was pretty impressive. It reminds me of my nephew. You've gone straight towards the monster's weak point."

Unbeknownst to him, your face starts heating up from the praise. You've never received positive reactions from your oh-so-dangerous hobbies. "Well, yeah! It's no big deal. Eyes are usually common for being weak."

Ford chuckled. "Anyway, do you know the direction to Gravity Falls? I may be a little lost."

"Course, duh! It's like... that way! Opposite of the sun," you grinned, pointing behind him. He turned around to check, his shoulders slumping. You touched his nose with a grin when he looked back at you. What a Mabel type of personality. You were really just removing the monster's blood, though. "Boop!"

...Okay.

One glance at the sky, and Ford knew that there's no way he's going to go home at this time. While he loved adventuring, especially at night, he's still in undiscovered territory and would very much like to go home in one piece.

"Alrightnicetomeetyoudude! Byeeee! Good luck!" you exclaimed, already waving at him and walking away.

Wait! You're his only ticket out!

"Pray tell, kid, are you alone? Don't you have guardians or friends tagging along?" he asked hastily.

"Naw. I have parents waiting for me back home, though," you smiled.

Ford somehow convinced you to bring him home to yours.

Now, you stood in front of your house with him by your side. The older man couldn't help but notice that you looked a bit anxious, weirdly enough. You're scratching your arm.

The door finally opened. The first thing Ford saw was a frustrated face of an older woman, which was swiftly wiped when she took note of his presence. How odd.

"Oh, sweetie, who's this with you?"

"Found him in the woods! Isn't he neat?"

"Let's talk for a bit. Please give us a moment," the woman smiled at Ford, grabbing you before closing the door on him.

Ford awkwardly stood outside the house, checking his watch. Faint voices reached his ears. That's your mother, yes? She sounded upset. You sounded upset. He hasn't been in this dimension in a while, but would it really be so bad to take home a man you haven't met? He's just literally lost!

You opened the door. He froze when he met your tear-filled eyes.

"Sorry, whatever-your-name-is. I can't let you in," you muttered meekly. "But you can wait for me tomorrow. I'll help you go home. Bye."

The door closed. Why were you crying? That's not right.

Next day.

Ford waited for you on your front porch, mindlessly writing in his notebook. He had to sleep on a makeshift cushion of laundry. It wasn't the worst place to sleep, and he's just glad he didn't get caught.

"Good morning! You're early today!" you beamed, already walking.

"Is there anything I should know about your parents?" he deadpanned, trailing next to you.

You got uncomfortable quickly. "Uh, next question? Hey, look, a parasite! So weird!"

"Don't touch that! I can't believe it ranges up to here!"

The journey towards Gravity Falls felt long and tiring. But it simply made you and Ford closer.

"What's your name again?"

"Ford. Just call me Ford."

"For— Holy shit! I didn't even notice earlier! You have five fingers and a thumb!"

"Please—" he hid his hand in reflex.

"Six cylinders on your hand! That's so cool, Ford!"

Ford simply sighed, a smile growing on his lips.

Eventually, you both reach the mystery shack.

"Woah... That's yours? No wonder why you're so used to being in the woods. You live in one!"

Ford chuckled, opening the front door. "I can safely say you're going to get along with my family, kid."

...

You paused, hesitating. "I can't. I have to go home."

...

He smiled sweetly. "Not even for dinner? It'll be quick."

Your stomach growled quite loudly, causing your cheeks to heat up. "Okay, fine. Maybe a little."

Stepping right into the shack, Ford shuts the door behind you. He can't let you go back in that godforsaken house. You looked too miserable.

You can be happy with the Pines family here.

[joyfulhottubfuntik]

Shortly after weirdmageddon, when everyone is busy restoring the shack and tending to Stan, Ford approaches his brother. The latter doesn't remember him yet, as they hadn't really interacted one on one. He is doing well, though, all things considered, making swift progress in getting his memories back, there's just a lot of work still left to do.

They talk for a bit, not really a full on conversation, just Ford wondering about Stan's well-being, about what he's remembered so far and Stan answering. The rest of the time they just fall into slightly awkward silence. Overtime Ford sees that Stan's taken notice of his hands, watching them as Ford gestures with a somewhat confused expression.

Ford realizes almost immediately that it has to be because of his fingers. And he knows he should have expected it, after all, Stan has only forgotten every piece of information related to himself, his general knowledge is intact, so of course he knows what amount of fingers is normal and what is not. But it still hurts, rubs salt into the fresh and open wound. Because Stanley has never once looked at his hands that way, the way everyone else has at some point —like they're noticing something odd and wrong, something that shouldn't be there, trying to figure out whether they're having double vision or seeing things. For Stan his hands have always been the most normal thing in the world, after all, he's never not had a six-fingered twin brother. Well, he has now. And it hurts because that's just an extra reminder that the person sitting next to Ford is not his brother, at least not fully. Maybe will never be him. Hopefully not.

So they sit there. Stan doesn't speak and Ford doesn't either, trying to hold himself together, preparing himself for when Stan's inevitably going to point out his hands. Even though he's had a lifetime of responding to questions about them, even the most uncomfortable ones, he never thought his brother could be the one asking them. This is different and worse than it's ever been. He has to just endure it, it's all his fault after all.

Then Stan finally speaks again. But instead of judgement, confusion, disgust, shock, fear or all the other responses Ford has mentally prepared himself for it's

"Oh, you have six fingers, right? That's pretty cool".

Said calmly, with a warm smile. Like it is the most normal thing in the world. So much like back in the childhood that only one of them remembers.

And that almost moves Ford to tears. Or maybe it does. Not the first time he's cried over this and not the last one either, he feels. But these right now are happy tears. And Ford feels that maybe it will all be alright after all

[gay-dorito-dust]

‘Uh oh, somebody’s in love.’ Sam teased as he nudged Joaquin in the side upon noticing how his eyes never left your back as you walked away from them both, nor did the smile upon his face that told Sam what he already had known for a while.

‘Yeah right, I just think (name)’s cool okay,’ Joaquin deflects, shifting his weight from one foot to another, ‘it’s not like I lay at night thinking about them.’ He adds unconvincingly.

*that very night*

Joaquin lies in his bed, wide awake and staring up at the ceiling as the irony of his current situation sits heavily upon his chest, images of you running rampant within his mind in a way that didn’t leave much room for the poor man to focus on something else. ‘Oh no.’

[the-universal-sun]

stan putting off regressing when he needed to and having a meltdown with fidds and/or ford helping? ❤️

Hey guys! Sorry it's been a few days. I've been a little sick these past few days, so I've been away from my computer for the most part. But I'm feeling much better now! This takes place in the 80s, an AU where Stan and Fiddleford got Ford back after a couple of years!

There is a scene wherein Stan briefly hits his head with his hands, starting at "When that doesn't work..." and ending at the end of that small paragraph.

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

    The sun dipped low on the horizon, painting the sky with hues of pink and orange. In the house, the soft hum of the evening felt insistent, like the ticking of a clock that grew louder with each passing minute. Stan sat in the living room, surrounded by the comforting chaos of his brother’s ramshackle house. The creaking floorboards seemed to echo his thoughts. He could feel that familiar pull, that soft haze and gentle fuzzy feeling tugging at the back of his mind-an urge he’s learned to resist being tempted by. Though there were the reassurances of both Stanford and Fiddleford that there was nothing wrong with him, that how his head gets sometimes is completely okay, that they loved taking care of him. Stan got up and paced the cluttered floor, his mind racing as he tried to drown out the world around him. He felt the familiar tug at his mind—the sensation that he kept trying to ignore all day. All week, really. Doodles lay scattered across the floor, evidence of his battle with the sensations that enveloped him. Every time he absentmindedly started coloring or drawing, he felt a wave of anxiety choke him, leading him to tear the paper into shreds and toss them into the trashcan.

     It's not that Stan doesn't like it, the fuzzy feeling he gets, but it's embarrassing, he's a grown man approaching 30, dammit! He shouldn't be carrying around a stuffed bear, coloring, and playing with blocks while two other grown men flutter around and coo at him! Sometimes when he's in town, he can feel people's eyes on him, like they know what happens-like they're judging him, like he's a freak. He can feel the need crawl around and itch under his skin. But he can't! He needs to prove to himself that he's capable of acting and being an adult! That he is an adult!

     "Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!" Stan chants, frustrated by his own harried thoughts, wanting his mind to calm down and let him be, to escape the fuzzy haze creeping up on him. For all these thoughts to leave his head. He brings his hands up and pulls on his hair, hoping the pain can bring some clarity to his mind. When that doesn't work, he switches to hitting his hand with his palms, muttering "stop it, stop it, stop it..." with each hit until he feels six-fingered hands grab his wrists and pull them down with a-

     "Stanley, stop!" It's Ford who's grabbing his hands, his face drawn. He doesn't look angry, he looks upset-distraught-but not angry. Stan thinks he wants him to be angry, to yell and fight him and treat him like a damn adult. "What are you doing? What's happened?"

     "Nothin' happened. I'm fine." Stan bites out, trying to pull his hands back from his brother's iron grip to no avail. "Let go of me, Stanford. I need-I need to go" He pulls harder, almost wrenching his shoulders out before he feels another pair of hands come up and gently but firmly grasp his shoulders. Why do they have to be so gentle with him? Even when he's acting normal, when they get into arguments or small fights, there's no hitting or punching-nothing beyond the play fighting Ford and Stan will do sometimes. Stan's not used to it, not after violence has been his life for almost a decade.

     "What ya' need to do is calm down and talk to us, Stanley. Let Ford and I help, we're worried about you." He hears Fidds' voice in his ear behind him, his hands on his shoulders. Ford's hands firmly but gently held his wrists. Stan wants too badly to sink into that haze, to let them coddle him and hug and rock him, but he can't. He doesn't even know why anymore, why he hasn't let himself indulge.

     "Well stop worrying about me-I'm a grown-ass man and I can deal with myself." He can see Ford's eyes shift to look behind him, a silent conversation with Fidds. Usually, that would bother him, but right now he just wants to get out from their grasp, go to his room, and hide away from them-and the world-until he can get his head on straight.

     "I think I'm starting to understand what the problem is here. Stanley, it's been approximately 10 days since you've gone down-" that's what they call it when Stan's head gets fuzzy and he acts like a kid-"and after months of the same routine, your mind and body are used to going down at least twice a week. It's safe to say you're just in need of-"

     "No! I'm not in need of anything 'cept you letting go of! Me!" He tries to wrench himself to the side but crashes to his knees with a stilted sob as Fidds' arms wrap around his body from behind just as he makes his move. Why did they have to push this? To have his body so used to these feelings that he now needs it to function? Why did they have to care for him. He doesn't sob, he refuses to say he did. Stan just brings his hands up-Ford let go when Stan made his move-and presses his face into them so hard he can see stars bursting out from the darkness. "I can't do this," he muttered piteously into his hands, his voice warbling and throat feeling thick. " 'M not a kid, I don't need this. I shouldn't need this. I need to grow up." He wants to cry, he wants to go under, he wants Poindexter. Stan just wants to noise in his head to stop. He whines, feeling Ford kneel and bring an arm around him, Fidds laying his head down and Stan's shoulder and nuzzling it, shushing and humming.

     "Stanley...It's alright to feel like you do, and it's alright to feel frustrated by it. You've lived a hard life, and we both know comfort like this was a rarity in our home. But you can be safe here," Ford sits down next to Stan, his knees aching from the kneeling. "Fiddleford and I would never judge you, Lee. We love taking care of you."

     "But why? Why do you like taking care of me when I act like that-like a kid? Why do you care about me?" Stan's voice breaks on his last word, tears bubbling up to the surface and spilling down his cheeks, dripping and staining Stan's sweats.

     "What's not to care about, Stan?" It's Fiddleford who answers this time, Ford seemingly at a loss for words at Stan's questions. "You're such a kind-hearted and warm fella. You care so deeply about your friends and family, I know you'd go to the ends of the earth and then some for 'em. And you're funny as all get out. Real hoot, I'd say. Caring for you is like a breath of fresh air, Stanley. It soothes m' soul. So you can be tiny if you need to, Bubs." Fiddleford's words get a small laugh/scoff out of Stan, the kind words bringing some warmth to his heart. But he looks towards Ford, needing to hear him say something, anything. A confirmation that he does care for Stan. And his words hit like a gut punch.

     "I love you, Stanley. You're my twin, my best friend from birth. You never judged me for my hands, for my curiosities and obsessions. You protected me from bullies and my own thoughts. You came at my darkest hour to help me, even after we were estranged for a decade. You made a life and job for yourself here, you paid off my loans and debt. You brought in F and helped him stop his memory gun usage. Stanley, you worked tirelessly for two years to bring me back after the portal incident. You're my hero, you always have been. And I can't possibly describe how much joy it brings me to see you unwind and relax, to look so happy, to be so happy. I love caring for you, truly, from the bottom of my heart, to be someone you can trust to protect you. I love you." And that does it, Stan's sobbing into his arms, into Ford's arms, his heart feels like it's bursting, and he can feel himself plummet down. His mind calming as his fuzzy haze washes over it, his mind losing the battle as soon as Ford finishes speaking, the confirmation that he is so loved is what he needed, he realized. That he wasn't some weird burden on them when this happens, that he didn't have to be an adult all the time. He hasn't felt this loved in forever and hasn't ever been cared for as he is now.

     He's still sobbing into Ford's arms as he's led up the stairs into his room, a pair of hands changing him into his softest sweater-it's got footballs all over it-and wrapping him up in his Teddy Bear blankie. He blinks and sniffles as he feels cold wetness swipe across his face, Fidds had wet a wash cloth and was wiping the tears from his eyes. Stan smiled at him, giggling when Fidds smiles back with a goofy grin. Sixer helps him lay down in bed and tucks Poindexter in his arms-still cocooned in his blankie-brushing his hair back and away from his forehead, like Ma' used to do when they were really young.

     "There we go, Lee, feeling nice and comfortable and cozy? Is Poindexter tucked in enough?" Fidds asked, coming to sit on the edge of the bed, tucking the quilt under Stan's legs even tighter, knowing how much he liked that feeling. He nods and mumbles, not feeling up to speaking. He just wants to lie there with Poindexter, Sixer, and Fidds and stay in this hazy feeling forever, his body aches now that he's relaxing, he was so tense for days. "That's good. I've gotcha here a book to listen to, is that alright?" That's more than alright to Stan, who just nods and hopes Fidds does the voices for the book, he loves it when they do voices for the people in his books.

     "Here, Lee, let's not chew on your friend's ear. I've got you something better." His brother says, guiding Poindexter's ear out of Stan's mouth. He didn't even realize he was chewing on it. He gives his stuffy an apologetic pat as Ford guides Stan's pacifier into his mouth. It's got a car on it that's made to look like "The Stanley Mobile". It's so cool. Ford made it as a surprise for Stan a few weeks ago. He snuffles behind it, leaning his cocooned and burritoed body into Ford's as he settles down beside him, an arm reaching over and cuddling Stan as close to his body as possible. Stan just snuggles into his shoulder, feeling his breathing and matching it, leaching his brother's warmth and hearing his matching heartbeat.

     "There was once a Velveteen Rabbit, and in the beginning he was really splendid..." Stan just relaxes into his brother's warmth as he finds himself enraptured in Fidds' storytelling. His mind finally calmed and his heart sated and happy.

[thenoellebird]

Something I wrote

supposed to be for right after D&D&more D (the episode)

Its a nice little wholesome hug fic. Not exactly reconciliation but hey.

Hope you enjoy.

FOR THE RECORD:

ALL OF THIS IS PLATONIC, and if anyone tags it or IMPLIES OTHERWISE, I will BLOCK YOU! There's NO MERCY offered here.

if you're a proshipper, don't interact with my stuff.

____

After setting the rift back in his desk, Ford heaved a sigh as he looked at the remnants of the portal that still needed to be taken apart.

He put a hand on the metal door that led to the portal room, but hesitated, feeling exhausted from the events of the day.

A second later, the elevator dinged and Dipper came running back into his lab, a smile on his face.

“Great-Uncle Ford! It’s dinner time–you did say ‘call me for dinner’ earlier, right?” Dipper said altogether too quickly. Ford stared at him a moment, processing what he’d just heard and then shook himself.

“Oh! Yes, yes I did,” Ford said quickly. Dipper nodded excitedly and ran over to the elevator, Ford following with slower movements.

They were both silent for the elevator ride, and then climbing up the stairs–it was as though they didn’t know what to say to each other. Ford felt awkward and put his hands behind his back.

He cleared his throat as he pushed open the hidden door. “So. What did Stanley make for dinner?”

“He says it’s ‘tuscan chicken.’ Mabel and I have had it before, a month ago, I think. It was really good,” Dipper informed him with a bright, eager smile.

Ford made a noncommittal sound as they entered the kitchen. The aroma in the kitchen was warm and inviting, and Ford hoped that the food tasted as good as it smelled.

Mabel was already sitting at the table and Stan was walking over with two plates, and there were two more on the counter behind him. He set one steaming plate in front of Mabel, who was kicking her legs beneath the table since her feet didn’t yet touch the floor, and he set the other that he was holding in front of Dipper who sat up straight, looking eager and hungry. The young boy picked up his fork almost as though he was hoping nobody else would notice that he’d done so, glancing at his sister, who was patiently waiting for Stanley.

Stan smiled at Mabel as he came back to the table and slid one of the remaining two plates in front of Ford and took the last for himself.

“Alright, kiddos,” he said with a smile, reaching over and ruffling Mabel’s hair affectionately, and then turning to Dipper and knocking his hat askew. Dipper laughed and fixed his hat as his sister giggled and then they both immediately started eating. Stan chuckled as he watched them for a moment, simply enjoying the delighted expressions on the kids’ faces as they ate his cooking.

Ford, in turn, watched Stan for those few seconds, then, realizing that he was staring and that staring was considered rude in this dimension, turned his gaze to his food. He’d had difficulty with food for a few days after getting home, but he was starting to eat more regularly now, generally eating whenever the kids would–and generally eating whatever Stanley made for them. Stan had quickly caught on and had evidently started making enough for Ford, for which he was grateful.

But if he said “thank you” to Stanley, it might be taken the wrong way, so he refrained from speaking that phrase around his brother.

Ford took a bite of the tuscan chicken only to realize it tasted even better than it smelled. He gave a small sigh of satisfaction just after he swallowed. Thankfully Stanley was already eating his own dinner and not watching Ford.

He didn’t want to make a big deal out of liking the dish, but he couldn’t really help enjoying it. And as he did, he found himself staring out the window, wondering why he was so out of it.

At first, he’d chalked it up to exhaustion from the events of the day–since he’d spent it being chased by a wizard from his favorite game and nearly getting killed by ogres and almost having his brains eaten by said wizard–but he’d realized as he started eating that this wasn’t the case.

He’d also tried to chalk up his increased disconnection to stress, but it seemed that the stress and the disconnection stemmed from the same thing.

Ford didn’t figure out what it was until dinner was over and the twins were helping Stan clean up.

He saw Stan put a hand on Mabel’s shoulder and place a kiss on the top of her head before sending her off to play and he saw Stan lift Dipper up and set him on a chair so he could better reach the dishes he was attempting to wash.

He saw Stan flick water on Dipper and Dipper splash Stan right back, and saw the two of them laugh together. He saw Stan’s hand on Dipper’s head, ruffling his hair and saw Stan holding his nephew in a gentle hug before sending him off to play with his sister.

He saw Stanley drying the dishes with a small smile on his face, the light of joy still in his eyes. Stan wiped off the plate he was drying and smiled at it, but Ford could tell exactly what was on his mind.

And Ford now knew exactly what he wanted.

He wanted Stanley to touch his shoulder. He wanted Stan to splash him and splash his twin right back. He wanted to laugh with Stan and feel the warmth of his brother’s embrace around him.

He just wanted a hug.

Ford could’ve thrown himself into the bottomless pit out of embarrassment. He was still sitting frozen at the table, unable to speak or move due to his sudden realization. Stan was just finishing putting away dishes when he spotted Ford.

“Whatcha doin’ in here, Poindexter?” Stan asked gruffly, the smile fading off his face as the light of the leftover joy from the twins’ presence left his eyes, leaving them sad and cold. Ford shivered.

There’s no way I can…just…ask him for a hug. There’s no way I can just ask him to touch me.

Mabel would give you a hug if you asked her. She’d give you one even if you didn’t. Dipper might even hug you. Why can’t you go talk to them?

But…But I want Stanley to hug me.

It was so childish. So stupid. So incredibly simple and illogical that Ford decided he hated the feeling.

“Hey there, didja hear me?” Stan asked, waving a hand in front of Ford’s face. Ford slowly looked up at him, feeling more disconnected and lonely than ever.

“I–I didn’t–” Ford muttered, feeling anxious and awkward. “I–I’m not–I’m n-not sure–” Ford felt himself stutter and immediately got frustrated with himself. Professional scientists did not stutter. They stated their facts and observations clearly, with precision. No unnecessary words or stammering.

Stan looked at him quizzically. “Nobody’s takin’ time away from ya, Six. You can think over your words, if ya want to.”

Ford huffed. “I shouldn’t have to, Stanley, I’m a scientist, we’re supposed to be well-spoken,” Ford said quickly, regaining his ability to speak.

Ford looked down at Stan’s large strong arms and suddenly wished his brother would just reach around him and hug him tightly.

It was a burning sensation in his chest. He couldn’t remember being touched gently in the portal. And he just knew that Stan still gave the best hugs.

Stan scoffed at Ford’s statement and rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Just tryna help, I guess,” he muttered more to himself than to his brother, turning away and walking back to the counter.

No, no, no! Say something! DO SOMETHING!

Ford stood up and followed Stan, standing a few feet away from him, fidgeting nervously with his hands as emotions welled up inside him.

Stan didn’t notice for a moment as he started the dishwasher, but he jumped slightly when he turned around, clearly expecting Ford to still be at the table.

“Dang, Poindexter, what do you want?” Stan asked, cocking his head to the side. “Just say it!”

“I–I’m–” Ford tried, but he couldn’t get the words out.

“Come on, Ford, you’re a well-spoken scientist, apparently. Just let it out,” Stan said, rolling his eyes.

He was about to cross his arms. Ford knew he would cross his arms, and then Ford would never be able to hug him.

Ford’s breathing became shallow and his breath hitched as emotions made tears well up in his eyes.

Before Stan could cross his arms, Ford stepped across the few feet separating them and fell onto his brother, throwing his arms clumsily around Stan and pressing his face against his twin’s shoulder, bringing them chest to chest, holding the back of Stan’s suit tightly in his fists.

Stan froze completely for a moment. But then Ford felt all of Stan’s muscles relax as his brother wrapped his big arms around Ford, just like Ford wanted.

Stan was warm. So warm. And safe. Ford snuggled against his shoulder with a loud, embarrassing sniff. Stan’s arms were strong and warm and just like Ford had imagined. The burning pain of the longing was satiated and he felt like he was no longer on fire. The warm contact from his brother was solving his problem so easily, it was as though there hadn’t been one in the first place.

Ford felt himself melting into Stan’s hug like it was the easiest thing in the world. Stan’s arms tightened around him, squeezing him just enough that the pressure felt comforting. Ford closed his eyes and let his tears fall as he let Stan hold him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I should’ve asked.”

“No need,” Stan said gruffly. “I’ll always hug my brother, if he wants me to.”

Ford gripped Stan’s suit jacket more tightly. “I don’t want to let go. I’m…I’ve been alone…for…”

“It’s alright. I get it. This might be hugging, but we’re not fixed,” Stan told Ford softly. “But that doesn’t matter right now. You’re my brother. That’s what matters. So I’m going to hug you till you don’t need me to.”

“And if I said that maybe I need you to keep hugging me for the next few days?” Ford asked, unable to disguise the hope in his voice.

“Then I’ll hug you,” Stan murmured, leaning his head against Ford’s comfortably.

Ford shivered where he stood. “Can we keep it to ourselves and not tell the kids?” he whispered.

“Yeah, sure.”

A moment later, Stan was pushing Ford out of the wonderful hug. Ford’s body started burning with longing again and he whimpered, reaching for Stan.

“Ah, ah, ah. Come on. I got a better idea. Follow me,” Stan told him softly, putting his arm around Ford’s shoulders. “Come on.” He steered Ford out of the kitchen, past the living room where the kids were playing, and into Stan’s bedroom. “Come on, go lay down,” Stan told him, pushing him gently towards the bed as he shut the door.

Ford walked over and gingerly sat down on the bed, feeling like he didn’t belong.

But Stan obviously thought he did, because he sat down beside Ford and opened his arms. Ford clambered into his twin’s embrace eagerly and didn’t object when Stan lay down and pulled him close.

“This is much easier,” Stan sighed comfortably. “There we go. That wasn’t so bad, was it? And now you can be close to me while I nap.”

Ford sighed contentedly and muttered something about napping too, but Stan only chuckled at him. Ford snuggled his head in Stan’s chest and Stan cuddled him closer, rubbing his hand up and down Ford’s back comfortably, brushing his curly gray hair away from his face.

“I love you, Ford,” he heard Stan whisper. And then–wonder of wonders–he felt pressure on the top of his head and knew that Stan had kissed him on the head, just like he would do with Mabel and Dipper.

Ford didn’t acknowledge it and just relished in the cuddling.

Their relationship might not have been fixed, but this…

…this was more than acceptable for now.

___

thanks for reading this random fluff drabble I wrote! I wasn't sure if it was long enough for Ao3. I'll probably repost it anyway tho. Hope you enjoyed!

[themurphyzone]

Gravity Falls 100 Word Drabble: Circus

Written for the Gravity Falls Writing Guild drabble session.

Prompt: Circus

Stanford braces himself in the window frame with freakishly oversized hands, all twelve fingers displayed for the audience’s amusement.

Flames consume the building, and he’s trapped on the top floor. Smoke and toxic fumes burn his lungs.

Music plays. The ringmaster bellows. People throw peanuts. The clowns laugh.

And laugh.

And laugh some more.

Makeup cakes his face. Ruffles choke him like chains. His nose honks when he tries to speak.

He’s a laughingstock, with only himself to blame.

Stanley is behind him. The shadows veil his eyes.

“Help me,” Stanford pleads.

But Stanley only pushes him out the window.

[cryptic-underground]

Glacial Freeze - Drabble

Stanley Pines was a loud person. Most who met him knew this. He was loud when he laughed, talked, when he snored as he slept. Even when he wasn't talking at all, his movements were loud, or at least felt so.

And Stanford had expected him to be loud when he was angry too. In some ways he was, other ways not so much.

Ford was loud when he was angry, screaming at minimum and explosive at worst. He expected his brother to be that same, they were identical twins after all, but he seemed to only be half right. Stan was loud when he was upset or annoyed. Loudly and continuously complaining to anyone who would or wouldn't listen until their ears grew sore. He was loud when being angry about being woken up. When a show or something did an action that pissed him off.

Stanley was loud most times, except when he's truly furious at you.

And not angry or pissed or annoyed, but *furious.* He was quiet, dark, and cold then. And somehow that was scarier than if he did yell. He won't say a word, not an exhale, not a sound. With bottomless dark seething pits for eyes, while staring unblinking at you. Any defense or word you were saying would dissipate with that look.

If Stanford was a volcano, Stanley was a glacial freeze.

Ford has only seen this level of fury from his brother once in the time he's known him. And that was when someone was idiotic enough to insult Soos in front of him.

They were at the shack, having traveled a few days before the niblings were scheduled to arrive for the summer, and Stan was manning the register while Soos did a tour. There were a couple days of school left so Wendy wasn't in yet and Melody was visiting family, and his brother didn't mind filling in. He had also been in the gift shop at the time, chatting about preparations they need to make before the younger twins arrive and how they should take them fishing; maybe even on a small trip on the Stan'O'War. Soos had come in not too long after, having finished his last tour for the day, and joined them. It was still early in for major tourist season so they're was much to do yet on that front, but townsfolk from time to time would ask for a small tour ro see what changes were made to the shack.

Stan and Soos had been discussing new exhibit ideas, as Ford quietly listened, when a man had stormed into the shack. Instantly requesting the owner. Soos had looked timidly around the place for a second before stepping close to see what was wrong. His brother, for his credit, had left the young man a chance to deal with whatever the issue was, seeing that he was no longer that owner anymore. But kept an ear out for if it got out of hand, since Soos had come a long way in confidence and had done well as Mr. Mystery. Stan couldn't get enough of saying how proud he was of the kid, even if most of it wasn't to said kid's face.

Soon, however, it turned sour and the man was just insulting the place. How tacky it was and so on, nothing overly original. Stan had rolled his eyes, having dealt with most of it for thirty years of running the place, and Soos was noticeably pissed but trying to stay calm and respectful. Ford considered stepping in, back the kid up, and from his peripheral he could see Stan was not far after though still seem to be gauging the young man's reaction first. Not wanting to step on Soos's leadership stuffing himself in. Before that could happen though, the man had insulted Soos. Stanford couldn't recalled what it was, his ears filling with fog with growing anger. He hadn't known the kid as his brother had, but was endeared all the same in the small time he known him. Hearing his brother talk about him only further that. Stan, who had had his legs prompt up onto the counter, stood up instantly from his chair and stormed off. He only caught a glimpse from how fast his twin moved, though the look on Stanley's face was haunting. He had never seen such expression on his face, not once, and he wouldn't have to.

Stan wedged himself between Soos and the man There was no yelling, no exchanged, as soon as he was close to the guy he was gripping his shoulder and dragging him outside as if he was the shack's bouncer. No screams or anything came even when they were outside, it was silent and stifling. Soos and him see the man scrambling to run away in the door's window before they see Stan again. And when he did his expression was completely different, still tense, however not as furious as it had been before. His voice was gentle and kind as he asked Soos if he was alright. Wrapping an arm around the kid's back and squeezing his shoulder in a comforting gesture.

When Ford had attempted to ask what he'd said to the guy to make him run so scared, that furious expression from before flashed on his face before sighing. Like just the mention of the dude set a fury in him. He replied with something along the lines of "I told him in a not so nice way to not mess with my family, or I'll acquaint him with the end of a blade where the sun doesn't shine." His brother changed the subject soon after, and Ford obliged since he didn't like seeing his brother upset. He still wondered briefly what exactly happened out there, though he tried not to be bother too much about it. Even if it slightly worried him to see his brother that quiet and that angry in equal measures. It also reaffirmed something he knew about his brother. Family was everything to him. Anyone who messed with his family would deal with his fury or his fists.

And his family would do the same for him

[agoldengalaxy]

imagining soos and melody’s wedding

soos proposed in the spot they met - the mall’s toy train area

soos asking dipper to be his best man (dipper totally cries about it. and also has a hard time keeping it together during the ceremony)

mabel asked to be the flower girl. she has a confetti cannon ready to go

wendy is a bridesmaid. she wears a suit and plays off getting choked up by fixing her tie

ford officiates. he got ordained the day before. he thinks he can figure it out. he tells soos to take a deep breath and tells melody she looks beautiful

fiddleford is front row, cheering for his anime buddy

stan is a groomsman. he spends the morning with soos, helps him straighten his tie, tells him he’s proud of him. he walks him down the aisle at the beginning of the ceremony with abuelita, because soos wanted the two people who raised him by his side

soos promises melody he’ll always make her laugh. melody promises soos she’ll always have fifty cents on hand

the reception is pizza, sodas, and a lot of dancing. they wouldn’t have it any other way