#gravity falls age regression

[softpawpup]

dipper little rq here! i'm gonna be honest I'm not sure which one

(ㆁωㆁ) uhm maybe the mood board please!

dipper agere moodboard !! ^^ thank you sm for the request this was a fun one to do tehe !! i think its pretty soft and cute too so ^^ i thought about adding more star elements but i decided to go for a more soft, foresty, comfy aesthetic.

[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.

[gemallass]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And with a dark blue pacifier in his mouth.

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

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

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

Hm.

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

Yeah, he could do that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

. . .

Hopefully.

[phoenix-art-official]

cough age regressed stanley angst cough

so this is 100% not what you meant by this but for some reason i physically could not move on with my life until i made this comic so here

and then they made a blanket fort and everything was good the end :)

[rattlingcudgel]

Self-Indulgent 2010’s “Weird Kid” Childhood || Moodboard !

Aaaah I still find so much comfort in the “weird” things I loved in my childhood.. This is for the autistic, adhd, or even those that are neither, little ones that were outcasted by their peers.. I see you, and I am you <3

[shhtickerbook]

okay but CG Mabel is literally so perfect she would love caring for the evil baby triangle

[pixxiecup]

mabel pines (gravity falls) stimboard with glitter , pigs , stars , n crochet :3

[ 🐷 ⭐ 🌲 / 🐷 ⭐ 🌲 / 🐷 ⭐ 🌲 ]

[softpawpup]

— regressor ! mabel pines headcannons !! ( request from anon )

🌈 usually asks dipper or stanley to care for her, she's a little intimidated by ford when she's little

🐷 has nightmares about bill and usually needs warm milk and a stuffie afterwards

🌟still very extroverted when she's little but gets scared much easier and cries a lot easier too, she's already very expressive but even more so as a little, its very hard for her to regulate her feelings

🌈 will talk your ear off in babbles and rambles, sometimes not even words just baby noises

🐷 likes having onesies to match her sweaters for when she's little

🌟 wears animal ear headbands for the animals she regresses to

🌈 she's a parakeet, raccoon, and fairy regressor

🐷 hides stickers on everything around the house and waits for you to find them

🌟 has an emotional support rubber ducky that has to be in the bath with her

🌈gets sad when she can't go outside and play, she loves running around in the grass and getting dirty

🐷 listens to snoop dog affirmation songs (i am obsessed with those ofc she listens to them)

[the-universal-sun]

in NEED of some sad little stan with ford comforting him.. maybe him telling ford about his past being homeless and regressing from talking about the memories

Thank you for the request and very sorry it took so long to get to it, I hope you're still here to read it! I enjoyed writing it very much, even if Stan doesn't regress until about halfway down. I do have some drabbles in the works that are lil' stan all the way through though...Enough about that, thank you again for the request, I hope it lives up to your expectations! I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! It was a good prompt and I thank you again, Anon, for the ask! Sorry if the tone seems to flip flop around, I took a long break to finish up some chores when writing this.

As always, I'm open to helpful comments and advice, please enjoy!

TW: Stan talks a little about his time in the back of a trunk, but it's essentially just Stan describing his feelings and dropping when telling Ford. If you want to void that paragraph, it starts at "It was about the time I spent in Mexico" and ends at "get his words out without blubbering. "

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

It was a rough night for Stan. There was a storm going on out on the water and the violent rocking of the Stan O' War made him stumble and burn his tongue on the still hot stew was made, then he just couldn't find the right position to sleep in, his back hurting on his side, his front, when he was laying back on his orthopedic pillow, nothing was right. And when he did finally manage to get to sleep, nightmares and memories he wishes stayed forgotten clawed at his mind all night, finally jerking him awake too early in the morning for anyone to function. Anyone but Ford, that is, who seemed well rested and eager to start the day. Stan swears his brother was whistling a tune while he made coffee he was just that damn chipper. Stan wasn't. He wanted to sleep, but he knows even if he could, nightmares would find their way back in, and he cannot deal with those right now, not with how close he was to dropping and regressing-which he honestly wasn't in the mood for right now, his body and mind to anxious and exhausted to focus on that allure. Instead, he just grunted when Ford asked him about how he slept. And he only gave short one word answers throughout the day, his mood souring further and further as the humid sun beat down on them. He thought he was doing well in hiding it from Ford until, around late afternoon, his brother turns to him, arms crossed and an expression that was identical to their mother's when she got annoyed with their attitudes, and demanded an explanation.

"Stanley, what is the matter with you today? You've been crochety and grumpy all day, and it's starting to get on my nerves." He stands there, waiting for Stan to respond. Jesus, can't Stan have a bad day without it being turned into a big deal? He heaves a sigh after a few moments, not wanting to get into an argument with the way he's feeling.

" 'S nothing, Stanford, just had a rough time getting to sleep, s'all. Nothing for you to worry about." He shrugs, trying to keep it casual and not alert his brother to just why he had a hard time sleeping. Stan hopes he'll drop and they can go back to setting up fishing lines. Stan doesn't think he can keep a good grip on his pole today, so he's got the rail grip out for it. He just wants to sit back and relax and not think about bad dreams and phantom body aches.

"Hard time sleeping? Was it the storm, Stanley? It was pretty rough last night, but it ended around 2 am and I've seen you sleep through rougher. Though I do recall hearing you complain and grumble about your back periodically throughout the night..." Stan, knowing his brother will reach some sort of conclusion on his own, whether accurate or not, just sighs again and starts putting up their fishing gear. Once Stanford got started, it took a while for him to finish, and once he comes to his conclusion, whatever it is, he's going to insist Stan go and get some rest or, god forbid, talk about it. Yeesh, just thinking about it made his whole body cringe. He's finished packing everything up and is halfway to the door back inside before Ford pipes up with his conclusion as to what Stan's problem was.

"You had a nightmare! Probably of a memory that just came back to you! Why didn't I see it before! You're always in a dour mood when you have a memory come to you in this form, it should've been my first thought, really! I was too absorbed in writing down my latest findings...that...I..." Ford stops, wincing at the sight of Stanley's blank stare from the doorway, eyebrow raised. Stan only rolls his eyes up, earning another wince, before he gestures to the open door. If they're going to have an emotional talk, Stan would rather do it in air conditioning. He leaves the box of fishing gear by the door and heads to their room, he'll need the comfort of his teddy bear if Ford's going to make him talk about his nightmare. And trust him, Ford will make him talk, probably by sheer annoyance and pestering. He grabs his Teddy and heads to the kitchen, bypassing Ford loitering in the door way and ignoring the stare aimed at him. He doesn't need to feel like he's going to regress to have Poindexter, the stuffed toy has been a comfort for him since he was 19, and it's still one now, no matter his headspace. He settles in the kitchen, grabbing a diet Pitt Cola, more for something to do with his hands and mouth than desire to drink it. He adverts his eyes when Stanford settles down in front of him, staring silently.

"Stanley, you know we need to talk about this, if it was a memory, it needs to go in one of your memory books, just in case you have a lapse. You also need to talk about it for your own mental health, you know what Mabel says, bottling your emotions will only lead to explosions." Stan loves his great-niece, he truly does, but she was all on abord with his brother when he got into his "caring about peoples (Stanley's) emotions and helping them with their mental health." phase, which is seeming less like a phase every day.

"Yeah I had a nightmare, it was about an incident during a drifter days. It was sucky and I hated it, and I'll write it down in the Bad Memory journal later. There, we talked about it, I'll go rest now. We done?" Stan starts to get up from the small table.

"No we are not done! You actually have to talk about it, Stanley, share the details of your nightmare with me. And I know you won't write it down! So we are going to sit here and you are going to talk. And trust me, I can play the waiting game. I can play it all day." Dang it, Ford's stern about this, and Stan knows he means it, waiting for him to talk. He's done it before, they sat there from sun rise to almost sun set before Stan gave in and talked. He sighs, cracking open the soda and setting his bear next to him at the table, talking more to it than to Ford, not wanting to see the disappointment in his eyes. He takes a while to gather his thoughts, to think about the best way to get through this. He grabs his teddy with his free hand, just to hold and pet so his nerves can calm down.

"It was about the time I spent in Mexico, there was an-uh-incident and," Stan blows some air out of his mouth, wondering why it was so hard to talk about this particular memory with Ford. "I had to chew my way out of a trunk." He still refuses to look at him, staring down at Poindexter, his worn but well loved Teddy who's been with him through everything. Stan's amazed he's never lost the poor thing, with how many times he's been on the run and in jail-thankfully they keep the stuff you had when you went in and kept your car impounded if you were in for less than 3 years, so no one was able to throw him away. He keeps his grip on Poindexter tight as he talks about his nightmare, how terrified he felt and how he truly believed, for the first time in his life, he was going to die. He recounts the experience, and not without a few barbs and poor tasting jokes, going from holding Poindexter to hugging him tightly, needing his comfort. Stan can feel his headspace creeping up on him, already so close to dropping and getting even closer to it the more he talks. He doesn't even realize he's started rocking until he knocks into the table, startling him into silence until Stanford quietly urges for him to continue talking about his nightmare, his brother writing down his words in a memory journal. Stan starts slipping further and further as he gets to the part where had to chew through the harsh metal of a car trunk, he can feel the tears sting his eyes, but he can't worry about them, too focused on being able to get his words out without blubbering.

He finishes telling Stanford about his nightmare, was it really a nightmare if it was a memory of his, with a joke about his dentures. Stan doesn't know if it didn't land because of the situation or because it was actually bad, he's still refusing to look at Ford, burying his face in Poindexter's fur, feeling so close to dropping, he's teetering over the edge, and so upset about his nightmare. He wishes he never remembered that situation, he could've gone the rest of his life clueless and he would have preferred that. He flinches when he hears Ford get up and sit next to him, is he going to tell Stan what a disappointment he was for getting mixed up in such a bad crowd? Will he sigh and say he should've taken better care of himself? Stan doesn't know, and he's scared to find out.

"Oh, Lee," Ford sighs next to him, a six-fingered hand curling through the strands at the back of Stan's neck, his gentle touches breaking away the last of the dam holding back his tears and pushing him over that edge. He curls into Sixer, clutching his sweater and sobbing, sobbing over how scared he was, how scared he still is, the nightmare's affects lingering throughout the day. He never wants to think about that moment ever again. Stan's finding it hard to breathe his how hard he's crying, coughing harshly every couple of minutes. His brother slaps his back to dislodge his coughs, rocking Stan's body with his own. He sniffles, wiping his face on Sixer's chest, and wraps his arms around him, making their rocking go faster. Stan likes it when his brother rocks him, it's better than his rocking, it calms him down way faster, too. They just rock together for what feels like eternity, he's stopped crying at some point, but he still clutches Sixer, enjoying the touch and the sensations, the nice a comfy warmth he brings. His brother always knows how to chase away his scary feelings and thoughts, he really loves Ford.

Stan panics when he feels Ford pull away, clutching at his sweater and whining, he's so scared he's going to leave him again, Stan doesn't want to be alone, he wants his big brother to hold him and rock him!

"Lee, it's alright, I'm just getting a warm cloth to wipe your face, alright?" Stan just blinks at Ford, not really understanding what he said. He just stands when his twin stands, he doesn't want to be alone, he has to follow Sixer. Stan holds his hand as tight as he can and follows Ford to the bathroom, he cries when the lights get turned on, they hurt his eyes, they're too bright! He flicks them off, rubbing his eyes, they sting and burn even more now. Stan just wants to go and get out of these itchy clothes and cuddle Poindexter, but Ford's got to be in the bathroom for some reason, which means Stan does too, even though he doesn't have to go potty now. He flinches when the cloth touches his face, it's got but it does feel good, Stan hums and lets his brother pat his face with it, lightly rocking on his feet and clutching his stuffy to his chest.

"There we are, the hot water might help soothe some of the irritation in your eyes from crying, but if your eyes start to swell, I've got an ice pack in the freezer if you're amenable to that." Stan doesn't know what Sixer's talking about, his head's too fuzzy to pay attention to all the details and the big words his brother's using. He hums again as Ford smooths his hair back, he loves it when his hair's played with, it makes his body feel just like jelly-or is it jam that jiggles and falls down? Stan doesn't know, but he smiles at Sixer, he's still rocking away, but it feels nice to do, it's a nice rocking, a happy rocking, not a bad and tight tummy rocking. His brother looks, now that his glasses are back on, sad and all frowny, and Stan doesn't like that, so he lets Poindexter hug him, that's sure to cheer him up. Poindexter's hugs always cheer Stan up, why wouldn't they work on Ford.

"A-ah, thank you, Lee and Poindexter, for the hug. I appreciate it very-um very much." Ford rubs the back on his neck, giving the toy a hand armed hug and hesitant tap on it's "back", still unsure about hugging a stuffed animal.

His brother always looks so awkward when he hugs his stuffies, but, and Stan gives him a big hug, too, he looks happier than before, so Stan was right, as always, his friends hugs cheered up Sixer! His brother is the one grabbing his hand this time, walking them to the bedroom, Stan swinging their joined hands together between them for the short walk. "Lee, how about you go pick out some comfortable clothes while I fix the bed up. I'll help you get dressed when you've got them picked out, yes?" Stan understood enough of that to know that Sixer wants him to get some jammies out, he already knows which ones he's going to pick, his absolute favorite pair. He nods and gives a little salute, giggling when Ford tickles his chin, moving his face to escape the tickling but the hand keeps following him until he pushes it away, wanting to get changed. He watched his brother go to his bed, staring at it for some reason, before he goes to his dresser and pulls out his Special Jammy Drawer, the words capitalized to show how special and important this drawer is; it had all his fun and comfy pajamas and socks. Stan doesn't even need to look for his jammies, his favorite pair is right on top. It's a pair of fuzzy brown footies and it has a hood, but even better than the hood is the ears and tail on it, they look like a bears! Now he matches with Poindexter when he's got them on, that's why they're his favorite! Sixer always gets a kick out of it when he roars and rolls around on these, too.

"Have you got your clothes out yet, Lee? I've got the bed all fixed up with your special blankets and special pillows on it. I've even laid out a heating pad, it should be warm enough to feel once you've gotten dressed." Oh boy, Stan's special blankies are his favorites, and he gets a heating pad! He's got an achy back, so he sometimes needs a heating pad if it gets real bad, his special pillows are for his back and neck, too-Sixer likes to say something about "proper support" but Stan just likes how it makes his body feel like he's a giant laying on hills. But his blankets he can't rest without. One is a giant and heavy blankie with dinos on it, but the other is his tip top absolute favorite. It's a big and warm quilt with so many different patches and patterns-Stan added some teddy bears to it himself and they only made it look better-and some nice old lady gave it to him when he was really cold at a shelter once, it was just before he got Poindexter, which means it's also been with him forever and ever and he doesn't know what he'd do without it.

Stan's snapped out of his thought when his brother takes Poindexter out of his arms, Stan cries out and tries to follow him but calms down when Sixer puts him on the bed, right, he needs to get dressed and can't hold his friend to do that. "Steady now, Lee. Hold on to me." Ford always helps him get dressed, scared he'll fall and hurt himself, it's only ever happened one (or thrice or five times), but Stan likes it, it gives him a warm gooey feeling in his chest and tummy, he likes that his big brother wants to take care of him and soothe his ouchies when he gets hurt from falling. "Step in one leg at a time, Lee, we don't want to fall. Left leg in, perfect. Right leg now." Ford's voice is soft, so are his movements, he gently holds and guides Stan, helping him step in the legs of his jammies and threading his hand through the sleeves, zipping him up almost all the way but not to the top, Stan doesn't like things zipped up or buttoned up all the way, it makes it hard to swallow. "There we go," His hood is flipped up, the bear ears sticking out, "one Big Bear ready to lay down and rest easy." Stan does a little "roar" and makes claws with his hands, but he doesn't think it scares Sixer, his brother just laughs and rubs his head, which makes him pout before a tummy poke brings out his ticklish giggles.

"Alright, lets get tucked in to bed now. Ah-" Ford tuts at Stans returning pout, tapping his lips to usher it away, "You don't have to sleep, Lee, but I just want you to lay down in the quiet, okay?" Stan can do laying down, maybe not quiet, but he can 100% lay down in a comfy bed surrounded by Sixer and Poindexter and his blankies. "Perfect, let's get your glasses...alright, let's get you settled, Lee." As Ford tucks him and Poindexter in, Stan wonders if Ford will get in with him if he asked. Is Ford going to stay with Stan? The thought of Ford leaving makes him whimper, clutching his brother's sleeve. He can't leave, Stan needs him here with him! To protect him from any scary dreams or memories or monsters!

"Lee!? What is it what's wrong?" Ford panics, thinking something, another memory perhaps, caused Stanley's panic. His face crumples when all he gets his a whispered and broken "stay" and teary whines, did Stanley think he would leave? After what his memory was about? He gets on his knees, the joints cracking, before he speaks:

"Oh, Lee, I'm not going to leave you. I'm going to stay right here by your side, I always will be by your side, for the rest of our lives. So please, don't cry, I'm not going anywhere." He rests his forehead against Stanley's, one hand holding his, the other grabbing the pacifier he laid on the side table, bringing it up to his brother's mouth-which immediately latched on and began to chew, the repetitive movement obviously soothing, his body goes lax soon after.

Sixer said he'd stay, he always says that and he always stays, so Stan settles back down, chewing on his pacifier and hugging Poindexter, and lets his brother finish tucking him in, the blankets tights around him, the pressure is soothing. He keeps his head turned to face his brother, needing to see him, to make sure he's really going to stay, snuffling when his hair gets soothed back, the hand resting on the top on his head. Stan doesn't feel tired, not sleepy tired at least, but it feels nice to let his body relax against his bed and brother, just letting himself float in his fuzzy headed feelings, not really thinking of anything, just existing.

It felt nice.

[babyblankyerror]

Everyone is worried for Stan because no matter what he can't remember much about his life after 17 until he came to Gravity Falls.

They assume he doesn't want to talk but a quick trip to the mind of Stanley Pines reveals that his memories had always been cut short, filled with TV static or just blacked out completely.

And ain't it the kicker that everything always blacks out just before Stanley in the memories goes through something terrible?

They find themselves often in the darkness inside Stanley Pines's mind, however, there are times where they see a tiny stan instead of a grown version of him when he appears to be having difficulty, they get vertigo from flashes of memories of the before age 17 cut in like some commercials and, worse of all, they watch the horrible moments along with a Stan who seemed to have spiritually removed himself from his own body and does nothing but weep.

(Or: Stanley got his memories erased but turns out he always had a problem with them. Due to trauma he forgets things, completely detaches himself from his body or age regresses)

[sageystar]

dipper pines agere moodboard 🌲

tried my hand at making another one!! hope it's good :D

[adhdbisexualramblings]

I saw your headcanons and I gotta agree with the axolotl at one point being bills caregiver, I think the axolotl would be an awesome caregiver and could easily put up with bill being a brat, since the axolotl already puts up with bill in general in theraprism.

Wanted to ask if there was any headcanons or a short story on the axolotl caregiving bill? :o]

Well, I don’t have a short story yet (I’m working on one but don’t tell anyone shhh) but I can make headcanons! Book of Bill spoilers, obviously. He/it pronouns for the Axolotl and he/him pronouns for Bill. The headcanons are short, sadly :(.

Caregiver!Axolotl and Regressor!Bill headcanons

-First off, you’re right about the Axolotl being patient. It’s learned that what Bill needs is someone who will validate his anger after all is said and done (i.e. “You have a right to be upset.”) Bill, ironically, throws a lot of tantrums.

-Bill can be bratty at times, but the Axolotl quickly shuts it down.

-I headcanon that the Axolotl has a constant comforting aura around him that he can lessen or make stronger if he wants. It’s like being wrapped in a cozy, freshly washed blanket. It makes regressing really easy around him.

-Bill’s nicknames for it are “Axy” and “Lotl” (he likes the way it sounds.) The Axolotl’s nicknames for him are “Billy” and “little one”.

-The Axolotl keeps a physical wooden chest filled with each drawing Bill has given him. Coloring is a regular activity for the two; it keeps Bill pretty calm.

-As mentioned before, these moments are where Bill’s regression is mostly positive. He’s a lot more giggly and puts down his walls when he’s with the Axolotl.

-They both found out at the same time that Bill passes out when trying to talk about Euclydia. It gave the Axolotl quite the scare.

-Bill regresses to something like a “toddler-space” often.

-Bill will still summon strange, amalgamated, creatures, but they would be friendly! (Apart from the occasional play-fighting.)

-I’m not going into the logistics of it, but Bill was once able to travel between other dimensions and the Axolotl’s dimension very easily. He would go there if he decided to voluntarily regress.

-When nap time comes around, the Axolotl will curl its body and tail around Bill to enclose him in its Good Vibes(TM)

(Like this! :D)

-Unfortunately, sleeping in the Axolotl’s domain doesn’t take away the nightmares.

-Bill’s mother’s lullaby has never been sung to him since, but Axy had plenty of personal lullabies as well that Bill loved hearing after bad dreams.

-Axy made up a lot of games, stuff that could safely use Bill’s powers. But nothing fire-related.

-Peek-a-boo is a risky game (literally. Bill doesn’t like being blinded or the idea of blindness.)

-After their falling out, Bill crashed hard. It was his worst regression experience to date. All the Axolotl could do was watch with immense sorrow as Bill wrecked things.

[phoenix-art-official]

You uh...ever make any more regressed stan?????

Not that I'm addicted or anything....

first of all, thank you all so much, i'm beyond touched by the reception of my comics

second. the next installment of this au was written by @plain-common-ordinary-firg and its a fic called Boats and Birds on AO3 (user colubrine). i will link said installment in the reblogs so this post can appear in tags

third, this isnt the last part of this comic. theres one more after <3

now...

[dadascozyspace]

Dipper mood board !

I’ve officially done both sets of pines twins! I think this the hardest one I’ve done but I’m happy with how it came out!

(One of these photos is taken by me hehehe)

[shhtickerbook]

the axolotl recommended a new kind of coping mechanism for Bill in the theraprism! It’s going surprisingly well!

[plutos-little-space]

Little!Dipper Pines agere moodboard!! oh he.. he just like me fr..

[i decided to try something!! -3-]

DNI BANNERミ★