Young Ford Pines - Blog Posts

They did it! They broke bad! It would be a shame if they were bickering incompetent buffoons about it...

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(sketch & stuff under the cut)

I tried so hard to render this nicely but somehow I still prefer the sketch...

SJDJSKWKSJFJD YES YES YES YES

dad Stan part 5 anyone?

part 1 | last part|

this one is cute, but it also broke my brain a little. Ford doesn’t know shit about kids, and he’s so scared of embarrassing himself in front of an audience (a 5 year old). Lola is a hater frfr. No.1 Ford hater.

I love that for her.

Ford and his surprise niece sign a peace treaty.

Breakfast was awkward. Lola was sitting directly opposite Ford, eating the only good thing left in the house. A plain slice of bread. She kept glaring angrily at Ford, who couldn’t meet her in the eyes. She clung to Fiddleford, who was focused on some programming. The tension was palpable.

“Um” Ford started, “I guess I haven’t properly introduced myself-“

“Don’t worry, you don’t need to” said Lola, cutting Ford off with a deathly glare. Fiddleford stifled a giggle, not looking up from his work. 

“Come on Lola, I feel bad tha-“

“Good.” Lola stuffed the rest of her bread in her mouth. She tugged on Fiddleford’s arm.

“Mr gucket, let’s GO!”

“Lola, stay!” Ford said, perhaps slightly louder than he ought to, standing up suddenly. Lola looked up at him, with terror in her eyes. She clung to Fiddleford and started to cry.

Ford felt bad. He hadn’t meant to scare her. He sheepishly sat back down as Fiddleford comforted the girl. he gave Ford a glare and Ford flushed.

“It’s ok, miss lola. He didn’t mean it” Fiddleford said, rubbing Lola’s back. She was wailing now, so Fiddleford took her to the living room to calm down. 

Ford just stared into his coffee, at a loss for what his life had become. He was tired, having not slept at all in the past 24 hours. His body ached and he could still taste the spiders in his mouth. He had risked the world, doomed his BROTHER to a fate worse than death. 

Ford always figured that he and Stan could be brothers again, one day. Maybe after Ford had gotten famous, Stan would come back into his life. Ford would’ve insisted Stan grovel for forgiveness, and would accept. He’d show Stan all the amazing things he had done, and Stan would’ve been proud. And they’d talk over drinks, and tell each other all about their lives. And Stan would stay. 

It didn’t seem likely that Stan would want anything to do with him now. Ford still remembered the last thing Stan had said to him. Don’t fucking speak to me, Stanford. They hadn’t spoken in a decade, but it hurt all the same. Ford never considered a world where Stan wouldn’t want to talk to him. He remembered the look on Stan’s face as he fell through the portal. It haunted him. Every time he closed his eyes, he could see it. Stan must’ve hated him.

Ford’s eyes welled up with tears. He wished he had something to do, something productive to distract from the pain. He and Fiddleford were pretty much done with project Mentem. Fiddleford just had to sort out a few bugs in the program, nothing major. But that left Ford with nothing to do except drown in his own thoughts, contemplating just how much he screwed up. 

Fiddleford re entered the room, looking tired. 

“Ford, ya gotta be more careful with her. She thinks yer possessed by a demon”

Ford looked at his friend, wide eyed. 

“She knows about bill?”

Fiddleford shrugged.

“She told me she’s was hungry when I tried to ask her.”

It took a few more hours, but by lunch time they were ready to encrypt Ford’s mind. Ford wanted to do it instantly, but Fiddleford insisted they eat first. 

“Ford, seriously? There’s nothing to eat! When’s the last time ya went to the store?”

“I’ve been preoccupied” Ford scowled. “Maybe we should just do the encryption now!”

Just then, Lola ran in, holding Lizard in one hand, and a sheet of paper in the other.

“Mr Gucket! Lizard is hungry!” She yelled, standing in front of Fiddleford. “It lunch time.”

“Oh is he, now!” Fiddleford said in a sing-song voice. He was looking at Ford. “And what would Lizard like to eat?”

Lola considered this, then held up Lizard.

“Pizza!”

Fiddleford went to pick up the pizza, leaving Ford to watch Lola. He sat awkwardly, whilst Lola drew on the crumpled sheet of paper she was holding with a blue ball point pen. Ford felt tense, he could feel himself sweating. It took far too long for him to speak.

“So… uh… Lola!”

Lola stopped drawing, and looked up. Ford wiped the sweat from his brow. He didn’t realise kids could be this scary.

“Well- um… I-“ he stuttered, under the pressure of Lola’s unmoved stare. 

“Wh- what are you… um - what are you drawing?” Ford asked. He rubbed the back of his neck as Lola stared. 

Eventually her face softened, and she showed him the picture. It was a number of crudely drawn people in a line, each with a single defining characteristic. Ford was sure he was a much better artist at her age. He pointed at the smallest figure, which had a triangle for the hair.

“Is- um is that you?” Ford said. Lola nodded

“I’m going to draw Lizard too. I ride him into battle. That’s why I got a sword, see!”

She pointed at a line she drew next to her self portrait. Ford nodded.

“That’s very efficient. Who is everyone else?”

Lola pointed at a scraggly looking figure next to her. “That’s Stan. He like you, but less evil.”

“…right”

Lola continued, she was on a roll now.

“And here is Mama. Stan told me she used to be queen of the pirates before she got sick. That’s why she got a eyepatch and a pirate hat.”

“Your mother was a pirate?”

Lola nodded vigorously, with more confidence.

“Yeah! That’s how she met my papa! Stan said he was a star sailor. That means he came from space.”

“… and Stan told you that?”

Lola nodded enthusiastically. Ford sighed. 

“Right. Anyway, I thought Stanley was your father?”

“Stan is my dad because he look after me since mama got sick and died.”

“But you have another dad.”

“Noooo I have a papa. Stan said he got kidnapped by mermaids before I was born. That’s why he can’t look after me.”

Ford looked at Lola confused.

“Lola, mermaids don’t kidnap people. Actually, it’s quite fascinating, see, mermaids are closely related to sirens and-“ 

Ford blabbered on, and Lola stopped listening pretty fast. When Fiddleford re entered the room, this time with Pizza. About halfway through eating, Lola remembered that she hated Ford, and stopped responding to him.

They all went down to Ford’s secret study. Lola waddled behind Fiddleford, seemingly unnerved.

“Mr gucket… what are we doing?”

Fiddleford and ford passed a look between them. 

“Well, Lola, ya know what ya said about Ford…” Fiddleford started.

“Hes evil.”

“No, Lola about the- well um…” Fiddleford stuttered as Lola clung to his leg. She buried her face into his leg.

“You’re not gonna let him hurt me, right mr gucket?” She said, voice quavering. 

Fiddleford kneeled down beside her, and offered a hug. Lola crawled into his arms.

“No one here’s gonna hurt ya.”

Lola looked up, straight at Ford.

“But… what about the demon?”

Ford was shaking. He couldn’t bear the fear in Lola’s eyes.

“I’m going to destroy him.” Ford said. 

Fiddleford picked Lola up, and they kept walking. 

“Hows’about ya tell me about this demon.” Fiddleford said, “like what did he look like?”

“He looks stupid,” Lola said, “like a nacho, he got a silly hat and he pretended to be my friend. But Stan said to not trust strangers, so I said no. And then it went scary”

“Bill…” Ford whispered. “When did you first see him?”

“Um… when I was dreaming I think. In the car.”

Ford rushed closer to Lola. “What did he show you, Lola! This is important! You didn’t make a deal with him, did you? Why did he contact you?”

Lola started to cry. Fiddleford comforted her, glaring at Ford, who looked embarrassed. 

“Be gentle, Stanford! She’s only little!”

Lola had calmed down by the time they got to Ford’s study. She still refused to look Ford in the eye. Ford couldn’t blame her, but he also couldn’t risk her being used by bill. He needed to talk to her properly, but she despised him. He wondered about this as he fiddled around with Project Memtem. They hadn’t figured out a way to make it not project memories, but that gave him an idea.

“Lola?” He said, tentatively, “do you really think I’m evil?” 

Lola nodded. Ford sighed, before continuing.

“Do you know what this machine does?”

She shook her head.

“It’s a device designed to read brain waves and translate them into coherent thought. Fiddleford and I repurposed it so it can also encrypt your thoughts to prevent outside influences from interfering.”

Lola looked confused. “I’m five.” She said. Ford felt embarrassment flush on his cheeks. He was glad the room was dark.

“Um. Yes. Well, to put it simply, it reads your mind. And uh…” Ford stuttered trying to think of a simple explanation. Luckily, Fiddleford was there.

“It stops demons from Gettin’ in yer brain” Fiddleford said. Lola nodded in understanding. Ford continued.

“Yes, thank you Fiddleford. I’m hoping that this will keep Bill out of my mind.”

Lola looked Ford in the eyes, confusion etched in her face.

“bill said you was his friend?” She asked it like it was a question. Ford’s face went grave.

“He isn’t my friend, Lola. He used me, tormented me for months. He tricked me into building the portal when I was lonely and vulnerable. I thought he was a muse, but in reality, I was just his puppet.”

Lola looked confused. She turned to Fiddleford.

“Mr gucket, what did Ford say?”

“He said that Bill is a bully, sweet pea.”

“Oh. That’s mean.” Lola said, seemingly gaining a new level of understanding.

“Stan said that I gotta punch bullies.”

Ford sat himself in Project Mentem, and put the helmet on. It was actually just a repurposed colander, Ford’s only one. 

“Lola” he said, his thoughts appearing on screen, “I know you don’t trust me, but it is my hope that by reading my thought, you will know I am being honest.”

Lola squinted. “Sounds like a scam.”

Thoughts of embarrassment appeared on the screen, things like ‘Lola thinks I’m uncool’ and ‘that’s exactly what Stan’s daughter would say’. Lola couldn’t read very well yet, but she did recognised Stan’s name.

“Stan!” She said, pointing. “Can you show me pictures please?”

“What?” Ford responded. He was expecting her to demand that he prove his allegiance to her. Not… this.

“I want to see pictures of Stan. I miss him” she said, matter of factly.

Ford thought about Stan, trying to keep his anger and annoyance out of his mind. He remembered the good bits of Stan, the bits where he stuck up for him, where he was loyal to the end. The Stan he trusted when he could no one else. A picture of Stan and Ford as kids appeared on the monitor, happy and smiling, having been caught in some harmless delinquency.”

“Stan’s a baby!” Lola said, coming closer to Ford. “He’s not as cute as I am.”

Ford laughed. “Stan was a bit of a trouble maker.”

“Stan said I need to be more like a trouble maker. He said I need to be Im-be-ten-den”

“He would say that, wouldn’t he.” Lola nodded.

“Did Stan REALLY fight the jersey devil?” Lola asked, and pictures of Stan and Ford hunting the jersey devil appeared. Lola laughed.

They went on like that for a while, with Lola asking Ford questions about Stan, and Ford telling her stories of their childhood antics. Lola sat on the floor in-front of Ford, lizard in tow. At some point, Fiddleford had left them down there. Neither of them noticed. Lola didn’t seem afraid of him anymore. But she still looked a little sad.

“Ford…” she started, “… do you love Stan?”

Ford wasn’t expecting that. His thoughts when quiet almost instantly, before flurrying to life, faster than anyone could keep up.

Of course he loved Stan. They were brothers, twins. As much as they fought, as much as they haven’t talked in a decade, Ford still loved him. Still trusted him with his life.

But there was that sense of betrayal, the anger. Stan was a cheat and a crook, who would do anything to get his way. If Stan listened once in a while, if only he had been more responsible, more mature. They wouldn’t have had to spend 10 years apart from each other. But Stan was self centred, he didn’t think about anyone other than-

Ford looked down to see Lola, staring up at him. Lola could see all his thought, his ugliest ones. She didn’t look impressed.

“That’s mean.” She said, simply. And Ford sighed.

“You’re right, Lola. I’m sorry.”

Lola shook her head. “It’s ok. Stan said he loves you even if your mean.”

Ford felt his eyes water, his breaths shallow and his heart beat. Stan came because he loved Ford, even after a decade of no contact. The first time he rang, he came, even when bill told Stan ‘I never loved you’ in Ford’s voice. And now he was stuck, in whatever fucked up dimension Bill was from, because Ford got tricked, got his ego boosted by a triangle. Ford sobbed. It was his fault that Stan was gone, that Lola had no one to look after her. He had to fix it.

He hadn’t noticed Lola had moved until she had crawled onto his lap.

“I miss Stan too” she whispered. 

“I’m so sorry Lola. It’s my fault.”

“It’s ok. You can help me to rescue Stan. Lizard has a plan, but Mr gucket didn’t listen to me.”

Despite himself, Ford smiled. “I’d love to hear your plan, Lola.”

Project Memtem had seemingly worked. Ford managed to sleep through the night, and Bill couldn’t access his body! He still plagued Ford’s dreams, but his body could rest. He slept for 20 hours straight, and when he awoke, he took a shower. It felt good. He felt better than he had in a long time. 

Ford found his house cleaner than it had been, with a plate of food on the table left out for him.  He made himself a nice mug of coffee. He sat in the silence for a moment, breathing in the cold air. He needed to pay his heating bill. 

The door swung open, and Fiddleford entered, swinging Lola on his arm.

“Ah! You’re awake!” Fiddleford said. “Lola and I went huntin’ for unicorns!”

“I punched him where the sun don’t shine” Lola said darkly. Then she stuffed her hand in her pocket and pulled out a bundle of unicorn hair.

“You managed to get them to give you some unicorn hair?!” Ford exclaimed excitedly.

“‘Give’ is a strong word. I showed Lola some of my old rodeo skills, from back in Tennessee”

“UNICORNS TASTE LIKE CANDY” Lola shouted. Ford looked confused, before brushing it off. 

“Great! Thank you, Lola, now if you just give me the-“

“NO” she yelled, stuffing the unicorn hair back into her pocket.

“First you have to promise.”

Ford blinked. “Promise what?”

Lola pulled out a piece of paper from her other pocket, with scribble kid writing on it. She gave it to Ford.

“This is a peace treaty.” She said. Ford couldn’t make out what she had written.

“Okay… what does it say.”

“It said I will give you unicorn hair and stop hating you, if you promise to rescue Stan. And also let me help.”

Ford smiled.

“I promise.”

PLEASE DOES SNYONE KNOW THE NAME OF A GRAVITY FALLS FANFIC

IT HAD STAN AND FORD AND STANLEY WAS IN THE MENTAL HOSPITAL AND LIKE REALLY NUMB OR SOMETHING AND WOULD FIGHT THE OTHER PATIENTS AND FORD TOOK STAN HOME IDC IF ITS REALLY OUT OF CHARACTER I LOVED IT AND I CANT REMEMBER WHAT IT WAS CALLED

A little sketch dump! (Please ignore the bad quality)

A little late but here's to 10 years of ford!

Y'all are in for a treat with what I'm cooking up.

also btw the other @ is js my TT acc:"p

some relativity falls screenshot redraws!! in order of the ones i like most to the ones i like least

(but i still like all of them i just want you to see the good ones first)

and yes you get all my commentary on them

this is the most recent one i drew, i literally just finished it, but unlike the others, it took all day! more effort was put into it because i had to figure out the lighting, switch the pine tree for a six fingered hand, and replace the banner of Pacifica in the background (with fiddleford!)

this one is the second one i drew, and i think it's just so cute! i know it usually goes Mabel -> Stan and Dipper -> Ford but for me it really depends on the screenshot- this is the scene where they're watching the mystery shack after Gideon just took over, and I didn't really have to do much for the background, since there was a frame of these bushes before they popped out of them

This one I like not just because of them, but because of the background- see the parts i drew in? No? Good! That's the goal! But yeah Mabel's hair took up quite a bit of the background, as well as her sweater, so i had to make it blend in and look natural with what was already there.

This was the first one I did! This whole thing started because I'd just watched Sock Opera and i was being Normal about all of it, so here's a Bill-Ford and Stan! And the journal! Which i based off of the one from lost legends, sorta- I couldn't decide on a good color, and i'm not too good at color theory so yeah. Also, it's hard enough fitting one extra finger onto Dipper and Mabel's 4, but this stupid six fingered freak (/affectionate) made me cram two extra fingers on there.

also yes this implies that stan put on a puppet show or something. think The Duchess Approves fanfic

original scenes (plus the fiddleford banner thingy) under cut!

(this one doesn't have my username over it because much like fids i forgor but i trust that nobody's gonna steal it)

it could have been better, had i not combined the layers too early

unoriginal joke

There comes a time in every whimsical artists life when they must reveal their Billsona

Don't puff yo cheeks at me man

L'appel du Vide by unreliable_narrator_2845

https://archiveofourown.org/works/59004160/chapters/150419458

Check out this fic its soo good b be careful its GRAPHIC! Damn i was hurling reading this. Its soo good but everything is too tame for me now ://

Hehh i cant get enough

I can't focus on anything other than this man lol

To Sonder, Part 1 [Stanford Pines x Reader]

Tags: Fluff, Nerds in love, Strangers to lovers, Two idiots in love, Eventual Smut, Mutual Pining, Canon Divergence, Slow Burn

Premise: You're a curious librarian. You think Stanford hates you but he really doesn't, Stanford thinks you're friends but you secretly hate (and like) him.

*✧･ﾟ: ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──*✧･ﾟ: ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──*✧･ﾟ: ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──✧*

You've never wanted to spend time with a man so, so badly that you decided to learn complicated studies like quantum physics, cryptozoology, lepidopterology- and a bunch of different other -ologies you didn’t know even existed before meeting Stanford Filbrick Pines. Your brain is burning from the sudden onslaught of information.

So here you were, back aching from hours of crouching over your notebooks in the library. You ran out of paper a while ago, so you settled for writing on the back of your book- your boss would kill you if he ever found out. But who cares? Not like anyone buys anything from the forgotten cooking section of the Gravity Falls public library.  Black splotches peppered your hairline from where you stressfully combed through your hair with ink stained fingers. 

God, why did you have to have a crush on someone with a stupid, big brain? 

You learned very quickly that Stanford Pines doesn't care for small talk. All your "hello"s and "whatcha up to?"s were greeted with a stern echo of a greeting or a short response before silence draped between you like a heavy, wet blanket. Then, he'd walk away, leaving nothing but the faint scent of his cologne, which endearingly matched his surname. 

He always hugged a leather bound book close to his chest, you were sure he was the type to fall asleep thinking- cuddling papers of his own nonsensical (at least to you) ramblings and equations.

Stanford visited the library often, and you practically lived here. Like clockwork, he'd head straight to the science fiction section, then browse all the sciencey aisles the Gravity Falls public library had. 

Eventually, the universe had to lovingly pick on you for enjoying your quiet work in the library. 

It was late in the afternoon, summer was in full swing and everyone abandoned the library to go out camping or for barbecue. The front bell chimed pleasantly as it signaled your impending doom (read as: a socially embarrassing event with a hot nerdy guy that will keep you up for nights to come.) 

Of course, you were none the wiser to his presence, definitely, as you stalked through the magazine section. Reading a rousing volume of "Lawn-mowers and heart movers weekly digest". You needed to tidy up here, anyways.

The guy took a ridiculously long amount of time mumbling about two books. Should he get the one labelled 'Help! My boyfriend's an alien overlord with a colossal, cosmic, world ending ego' or pick up a special edition hard cover of Lord of the Rings? He mutters something about how book titles were getting stranger by the day. You thought the titles were gripping. 

His eyes were a dark brown, matching his tousled hair. He wore a tan coat that draped over broad shoulders, there was dirt and ink staining his sleeves. He glared at the synopsis written in the back of another book, as if it personally slighted him. The picture of a scholar, inquisitive and sharp-minded.

Finally, he decided to pick up all three books as he hastily fished for his wallet. As he left the aisles, you noticed a torn up piece of paper falling from his pocket. 

Without really thinking about it you picked it up.

A decision that would drastically change what the next few weeks of your life would look like.

This small, ink stained piece of paper would eventually lead you to a spiral of wondering what a 'gobblewonker' was and why you should worry about it when you hardly even make eye contact with regular people in the first place. Eye contact was for extroverts. 

This life-changing piece of paper was something Stanford scribbled down so hastily. Something that would eventually derail the path he was walking on. 

The universe smiled that day. Because this time, you entered the narrative and he was getting a happier story from now on. 

On the piece of paper was a simple sentence.

"Don't forget The Jellybeans."

It made you snort. 

His handwriting was loopy and pretty. There was a circle looping around the words, as if the fate of the world hinged on whether or not he’d remember The Jellybeans. The capitalization on 'The'  and 'Jellybeans' did you in, you giggled.

"Excuse me, you dropped this." You schooled your expression to something more neutral.

The man turned around, clutching his books tighter as he regarded you with a confused expression. Like a raccoon caught eating hot garbage at 4 in the morning. He had dark circles under his wide eyes.

His cheeks were flushed, his jawline was strong, and he smelled of aftershave, old books, pine, and something you can’t quite place.

"You smell mysterious." You mumbled, your thoughts escaped you and settled in the air between the two of you.

.... REALLY? BRAIN??

"Oh. Thank you..?" He said, with a voice so deep and smooth it rivalled the empty void in your brain where small talk and social charm usually resided.

"Ignore thaaaat, sorry. Here,"

You hastily waved the piece of paper at Stanford, who seemed abashed at the little note he wrote. He carefully folded it before tucking it deep into his pockets. You offered him a grin, he offered nothing back in response. Oookay..

"All good! I lost a few things here. So many aisles to lose your stuff in, y'know?"

You rambled, cheeks flushing as the man stared at you. The only response was his blinking and the way he glanced between you and the window to your right. Ah. He wanted to leave. You should probably peel your lips off your face and throw it in the nearest garbage compactor now.

"I didn't want you to lose something important too. I've ah... "Bean" there, done that."

The pun sealed your fate, the silence grew ever heavier at your fading, strained chuckle. The universe grimaced at your subpar sense of humor. 

You wished you had even a sliver of  literary grace that you saw in "Silver chains for silver foxes weekly" magazine you pretended to read earlier. You hoped that the ground underneath you opened up and decided to save you from the absolute nothing-burger of a reaction the man gave you. 

But then, he chuckled. 

It was like the world around you came into focus again after that small sound. 

You bit down on your traitorous tongue. Too flustered from the string of words that left your mouth to respond. 

The man chuckled into the palm of his six-fingered hand- six fingers? God, now even your eyes were betraying you. You decided not to comment on that and let the poor man go.

"Ah, yes. I suppose it is your job to pick up after guests. My apologies for littering, even if it was unintentional."

Damn. He spoke like a gothic horror novelist and sounded smoother than the surface of your brain. 

"Haha! Yeah. Um, are you ready to go?"

"Yes, I'll take these."

The check out was fast and quiet. You tried not to look too interested in his selections.

"Mothman, Man, Myth, or Modern MLM Legend?"

"Trigonometry: A Mathematical Tango for Try-hards in their Thirties!"

"Quintessential Quotes for the Quantum Quizzical Individual"

And a bunch of what seems to be heavy books on engineering. Is he a professor of some kind? 

You tell him his total and force yourself to move on from the moment. So, Mr. Mystery handed you his money and left with a stiff nod and a strained smile.

The night was a blur as you closed up, you really just wanted to check in with a guest, do your job, and maybe make some small talk. No one ever visits the library this time of the year. Plus, he seemed nice. 

You spent your day off wallowing and being especially nice to the raccoons that tried to sneak a bite out of your garbage bin.

Then, the next day came and you clocked in for work. Your boss is officially on vacation starting today and that already threw you off. 

Something about the world felt off today. 

You woke up from a nightmare about a triangle with limbs tap-dancing through a field of weird flowers. You shoveled stale, lumpy oatmeal into your mouth. You could have sworn your food was trying to spell out your doom. But you ate the ‘M’ so all it spelled was ‘DOO’ 

You somehow slammed your finger in between the till drawers this morning, you had to clean dried pitt cola in the children's aisle, and Manly Dan came in asking about books for Lumberjacks. 

"I NEED BOOKS THAT HAVE A HARD-WOOD, MASCULINE COVER," he then proceeded to yell about how these books were definitely real. 

They were, in fact, not real and you had to narrowly dodge the splinters from the chair he threw over his shoulder in a rage. 

You could understand his passion, in a way. The pages of a book were once trees after all. He was but a simple lumberjack looking for something he can cut down with the enthusiasm of a chainsaw.

But worst of all, Lazy Susan gave you decaf today and you didn't realize 'til you walked all the way back to work.

So yes, Murphy's law is in full swing today and you were its (un)lucky victim!

Halfway through your shift, you saw him again. 

Mr. Mystery. 

Everyone knew who he was, the only guy who didn't grow up in Gravity Falls. The weirdo who only came up to buy groceries every couple months and to collect his mail. You were half-convinced he survived off wild mushrooms and pure academia. 

Today, however, he didn't come to browse or buy a new book. 

Instead, you watched as he ascended the spiral steps to the second floor and disappeared to a familiar part of the building. He grinned at the ornate wooden table sitting in the nicest corner of the library, pulling up a plush chair to sit on.

Oh no.

He slung a messenger bag over a chair and started unpacking papers, old tomes, and a worn out journal onto the space. 

No.

That was YOUR space.

For years, no one really bothered to spend time in the library. Hell, no one even noticed the second floor. It was just you, your boss, and the annoying family of moths that made a home in the dusty philosophy section. 

Alright, he may be cute and polite, but that was YOUR spot for years now. 

You looked forward to taking your break and fixing your dissociated gaze at the window overlooking the beautifully boring sight of Gleeful's Auto Sale. 

But today, everything about your routine changed. Even this. 

An irrational fury simmered in you. You fumbled being friendly with him the other day and he didn't even TRY to talk to you. Now, he took your favorite dissociation spot!

But you were too tired to kick him out. 

Instead, you settled for second best. Nodding shortly at him when he caught your stare. You crossed the room and settled onto an armchair adjacent to his- your- alcove. 

And for a time, things were... okay-ish.

Gravity Falls was quiet, with only birdsong and the occasional turn of a page filling the air. For a moment, you could relax. 

But then, came the scritch-scratching.

You glanced over at the man, past your book. He was leaning over his journal, pen scribbling away at a suddenly maddened pace- as if he was going to die if he didn't jot his thoughts down at that very second. 

A new wave of irritation washed over you. 

But then, he stopped. A satisfied little grin bloomed on his face. When he didn't look so severe, he looked... handsome. You could admit that much.

You thought you could forgive the man for his annoying habits. But then, the furious, loud writing would start up and end so suddenly. You can never predict when he'd be stricken with a feverish sort of inspiration for whatever it was he was writing. 

You breathed a sigh of relief as he stood up to go to the bathroom. 

You were sure you'd hear the sounds of his pen scratching at paper in your dreams tonight. 

You got up to fix yourself a drink from the breakroom, but your eyes wandered over the scattered papers on the table.

A mess of equations, half-finished sentences, and... drawings. 

Your eyes widened at the detailed and beautiful sketches laying on the table.  You can't help but look at one page in particular. On a torn up piece of paper was a drawing of a moth. It looked fantastical in nature, swirly patterns painted its forewings and at the edges were flames. Every scale on its wings was sketched with precision and care. You eagerly admired its details like a moth to a flame. Maybe it was something from a book he read.

A few minutes later, you came up with tea.

Feeling a little bad for snooping, you decided to fix the man a cup of tea. You didn't know if he even liked tea, but you did feel bad for being irrationally annoyed at the clueless man. 

He was back in his chair when you went up. You carefully set down the warm beverage in front of him, he startled at your quiet presence. 

"Oh, sorry! I just wanted to ask if you wanted a drink? It's just lavender tea." 

One of your favorite tea strains, he should be thankful you let him sit at your spot and drink your tea. Gods, why was he cute? Why can't you be more rude to him and scare him away?

"No."

The word came out clipped and fast. The man was in the middle of a hastily scribbled equation, barely registering your words. You could hear a pin drop- you HOPED a pin dropped and it would be sharp, in the middle of the piece of paper he was glaring at.

"Oh, okay." came your light, totally un-hurt answer.

"Wait, sorry. That's not what I mean- I'm tackling a particular... difficult study right now."

You smiled tightly and moved to take away the cup. But he stops you with a vigorous wave of his hand.

"Please, forgive me. I actually DO want tea. I'm out of sorts today, I... I appreciate your gesture of goodwill."

"Oh," you breathed. 

Curse this man and his eloquent words. The absolute nerve of him! You tried to do something nice dammit, you're paid to do that for good business. Why can't he make this easy on you?

"It's okay! I get it. You look like you're reading something really complicated." You offer him a small smile.

Once again, he answers your words with a strained smile of his own before mumbling a thank you. He took the tea into his six-fingered hands - hey, so you weren't seeing wrong last time! 

Unwilling to let the conversation die just yet, you decide to try and pick his brain. 

"I like your drawing." 

A warm rosy red colored his cheeks and ears. 

“Oh.. I’m sorry…? I didn’t mean for you to see my mess-”

You laughed.

“Sorry? What are you talking about? That’s a really cool moth sketch.” 

His eyes guiltily turned to the paper you pointed at. He almost sagged in relief as he pulled it forward. 

"Ah... the Igneous Tinea."

"Igni-what?"

"A fire moth!" 

His eyes brightened as he turned the page towards you. In the small amount of time you went to make tea, it seemed that the man filled the  rest of the paper with writing and notes. 

Upon closer inspection, the creature looked a lot like the local moths. Having grown up in Gravity Falls, you'd definitely recognize it. They only ever show up in the deepest parts of the forest. 

You wondered why he drew them on fire. “They’re indigenous only to Gravity Falls, I happened upon them while I was out looking for singing mycelium- or as I like to call them, my-sing-iums-” 

Your lips quirked upwards at his words. Wow, he could talk a mile a minute. All you needed to do was talk about moths, it seems. Too bad he was so excited and fond of scientific jargon that your brain couldn’t quite catch up to his pace. 

"Huh. That's awesome, are you a writer?" 

At this, the man's expression dimmed, he looked away. A lonely smile slipped into his face as he drummed his fingers over his journal.

"Ah, I am somewhat of a writer, yes. I am... looking for new material, per se, in Gravity Falls."

Dead silence once again enveloped the two of you. You wondered what the right question was so that you wouldn't kill the conversation with him somehow.

You took a deep breath and flashed him a deceptively easy grin.

"Well, I'll leave you to it, Mr. Writer-"

"Stanford."

You raised a brow at his interruption. The man- Stanford, fidgeted with his fingers. You’d have to ask him about his hands one day, but you didn’t wanna scare him off. He was the only regular the library had now. 

"It's Stanford. Stanford Pines. I... I meant to introduce myself the other day. I'm new in town."

Your eyes practically sparkled. Finally! Something other than silence. You try not to be too eager when you tell him your name.

"Haha, I wouldn't say you're new anymore. Stanford. It's been a year hasn't it?"

"How'd you know that?" He narrowed his eyes at you slightly.

"Dude, you've been coming by for months and it's Gravity Falls. Everyone knows everyone." 

"Ah... That is true." He mumbled. 

Welp, looks like the conversation’s run dry. But now, you had a name to the face so you cheered internally. 

"Well, I have some work I need to go back to. Enjoy your time here, Mr. Pines."

You didn't get a response, which was normal for the elusive and aloof Mr. Mystery- Pines, now. You breathed a sigh of relief after disappearing from his line of sight.

God, why was customer service difficult? Why is talking to people worth only 15 bucks an hour?

You spent the next hour or so organizing the moth-filled Philosophy section. 

You tried to be gentle with the little creatures and you wondered if they too, ignited into a small fire ball like Stanford Pines' drawing.

*✧･ﾟ: ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──*✧･ﾟ: ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──*✧･ﾟ: ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──✧*

Thank you for reading! <3

Title is a work in progress~

Me @ Dr Stanford Pines Ph.Ds

Coffee and Conclusions [Stanford Pines x Reader] FLUFF

Tags: Fluff, Young!Stanford Pines, Pre-Portal incident, just Ford being a sleep deprived nerd

When you went to check on Ford, the laboratory down stairs was in a state of disarray- even more so than usual.

Papers filled with hurriedly scribbled scientific notations, equations, graphs, and triangles(?) Littered the floors. All sorts of machinery bits laid scattered from an unpturned basket of them. And Ford? He was paced around wildly, six fingers clutching a crumple stack of papers while mumbling to himself.

You called his name, and he stopped his pacing to shoot you a grin that could rival the sun in it's brilliance.

"Ah, Starling, there you are! What time is it? Did you get the parts I asked you to fetch for me?"

"I did, but, Stanford, what is all this?"

You strode closer to the chaos, the eye of the storm- Stanford Pines who gratefully took the box of parts you fetched from town.

"I am close to cracking the code- well, one of them. I can feel it! I'm drawing close to an astounding conclusion!"

"And probably a heart attack." You drawled, eying the empty cups of coffee stacked high on his work table.

"So long as it comes after the portal test run!" Ford joked.

You fix him a glare and he smiles abashedly.

"By next week, we should be able to initiate test runs and optimization checks for the portal!"

"Incredible," you whispered.

Your eyes drifted to the triangular structure that towered over the two of you. It was dim in the lab, but in less than a week, it would be lit up with otherworldly light, buzzing with energy- if what Ford was saying was true.

"This could be the answer to all our problems!" Ford beamed, fist balled up in the air triumpanthly.

A hand gently yet firmly snaked around your shoulders, you were pressed against Ford's chest. You're screaming internally as you caught the scent of fresh pine, coffee, and ink on him.

"That's great, but are you alright?" 

Now that you were closer to him, you noticed Ford's unruly appreance. His chocolate brown hair was tousled and sticking up in places, as if someone took a vacuum, tried- and failed- to tame it. There was a coffee stain on the untucked hem of his button-up, revealing a bit of the soft skin hiding underneath. There were even more ink stains on the cuffs of his sleeves. His eyes were blown wide with delight, a contrast to the dark shadows forming under them.

His smile was easy and wide as he looked at you, eagerly waiting for any sign of your approval. You swear you saw goddamn sparkles in his eyes just now.

Somehow, his haggard appearance made your heart quicken. Damn this fool for not taking care of himself and somehow manages to STILL be attractive!

"Oh noooo, you've drank to much coffee," you groaned, stepping back from him.

A part of you mourned the warmth of his body, but it was getting hard to think being that close to him. Besides, you needed to set him straight- he's running on fumes!

"Oh yes! Yes I have, but that's besides the point, my dear. I needed to chase a certain equation that's been puzzling me and Fidds for a while now. I simply can't sleep, not when the solution's at the tip of my tongue!"

His words were hurried, you barely registered them as the sound of his velvety smooth voice called you "My Dear".

Your cheeks flush and you sighed, running a hand through your warm face.

"Stanford Pines, you need to sleep, it's been two days!"

"Sleep? Perish the thought! I need at least 34 more hours, if we're being generous, to figure out a way to stabilize the anti-gravity compression cogs of the portal-"

Ford was about to launch into another rant when he ran into you with his pacing. He wasn't the most coordinated and self-aware whenever he was sleep deprived. So your face bumped his chest, making you stumble back.

"Oh! Sorry, starling, I am feeling... a little  indisposed right now."

The nickname made you melt. But that wouldn't do, you needed to put your foot down and make him rest.

You quirk a brow as Ford chuckled wearily, clearing his throat and stepping back. When he wasn't busy talking your ear off, you can see the lines of sleepiness painting his face.

And here it comes, the wave of exhaustion- the crash that often followed days and nights of drinking coffee like water. Ford yawned, a hand covered his mouth. You sighed, shaking your head fondly at your friend.

"Man, you were always like this. Even in college. Come up, you fool. Rest up, new ideas will come when you wake."

Without waiting for his usual protests, you grabbed your hand. It was always effective in silencing him. You grinned at him over your shoulder before dragging him up the stairs.

Stanford was always weak to when you held his hand- especially in college. It seems that trait survived years after graduation. Six fingers curled gently against your small hand as he finally surrendered to your nagging.

"I have jelly beans waiting for you upstairs, IF, you promise to eat something filling."

Ford beamed, the apples of his cheeks turning pink at your promise and touch.

Lipbalm [Stanford Pines X Reader]

Set in the Nightmare Realm, you two are outlaws and reluctant allies, trying to find a way back home.

Tags: Suggestive, Pining, Fluff(?), Enemies to Lovers

*✧･ﾟ: ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──*✧･ﾟ: ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──*✧･ﾟ: ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──✧

You happily unpacked a little bag full of makeup onto the glossy counter of the bathroom. Mirrors surrounded you both, the perfect time to do your makeup.

"God, even interdimensional dive bars have the same flashy bathrooms as we had on earth."

You hummed happily, dipping your thumb into a tin of what Ford assumed was lip balm. You pressed your lips together, it smelled nice!

"Hurry up, we don't have all night. The longer we're here, the more ground bounty hunters cover around us." Ford grumbled.

You sighed, mood soured slightly by his haste. The muffled sound of the bar outside was nice at least, if you had to listen to Stanford's bitter words. You fixed him an unimpressed look through the mirror.

Ford leaned next to the door, ear perked up in case someone entered the bathroom, six fingers tapping impatiently against his forearm. You held a brush in between your delicate fingers, painting color onto your cheeks and under your eyes. He dared not let his gaze drift towards you too much, but he knew you were grinning at him.

Dive bars were for hedonists and people seeking the bottom of a bottle. Ford didn't really relish being here, but they needed to make contact with an important Altraxian dealer, if he were to get the parts he needed for the portal back home.

"You know, Altraxians love makeup. They consider it an art form, as well as a form of war paint." You mumbled as you painted swirls onto the edges of your lids. Ford perked up at the mention of the alien species. Of course, that was one way to get him to be less mean- information, knowledge. You quietly cheered as the wrinkle between his brows eased. His hands immediately reached for his pen and journal. Ah, how he wished he had his leatherbound book back in Gravity Falls. You were a well of knowledge, an anchor in the confusing dimensions of the Nightmare Realm.

"Is that so? Are they a warring species? What is their political climate like, to be able to appreciate art and war in equal levels? I have only seen one in passing, it turned it's nose and mandibles at me and walked away in disgust…" Ford rambled, scribbling into his book.

As always, Ford didn't give you time to answer each question as he scribbled away. You fell into the Nightmare Realm years before he did, but he was already so knowledgeable in it all. Stanford Pines had a thirst for knowledge that impressed you. It's what kept him alive in this realm- and if it kept him less angry, you'd entertain his questions.  

"That's because a nude, unpainted face is considered an insult to their society." "Hmm, intriguing. And what of tattoos? Do they value it, seeing as it's permanent art on your body?"

Your eyes drifted to the intricate markings that disappeared under Ford's rolled up sleeves. No doubt they continued well past his toned biceps, you've seen glimpses of it underneath his shirt before. Your cheeks flushed, but thankfully, the light was dim here. "Huh. I don't know. Never really talked to one before. Which is why we need to be extra careful, and play by their rules."

With a click, you closed your little bag and strode over to Ford, who was engrossed in his writing his little notes. He hadn't noticed how close you were until you tapped the top of his journal, nudging it downwards so you can meet his gaze. "The dealer is Altraxian. We'll need to suit up if you want the sciencey doo-dad you told me about." "I know that." Ford rolled his eyes "And it's called a cryo-compulsor cog." "Yeah, that, for your portal." you nodded. "Right…" You stared at Ford expectantly, a flicker of mischief in your wide, seemingly innocent eyes. "That means you need to prepare for that as well. I'm not talking to them alone." "I thought this robe would be sufficient? I even made sure to wash it this morning." You sighed at the infuriating man. True, he did trade his torn and dusty trench coat for something much softer and velvety. You hated to admit it, but he looked damn good in a suit. It was near maddening, but for his sake and yours, you wouldn't tease him for it.

"Mhm, yeah, you need makeup." "Pardon?" Ford incredulously asked. Your grin turned sharper and more mischievous as you took a step closer towards Ford. He blinked, locking up as you got close enough for him to smell the floral scent of your hair. Something alien yet alluring all the same. "They won't talk to you if you show up like this. Y'know, "When in Rome" and all that! We'll stick out like sore thumbs!"

Ford's eyes flitted around your face, distantly admiring the way you skillfully painted patterns into your eyeliner. Your lips were plump and redder than usual, cheeks alive with rosiness and accentuating your eyes. Distressed, he started to stutter.

"I-I don't- Ugh, Fine. Don't… Don't over-do it." Your eyes brightened, light passing through them like a small comet.

"Great! Now, close your eyes." you whispered conspiratorially. He wanted to protest, but all he could manage was a gulp. He closed his eyes, sighing in resignation. 

Your expression softened somewhat. He trusted you to get this close with him. Despite being the only other human in the nightmare realm, he barely gave you a fraction of his trust. You weren't sure if you could even call this a friendship. His presence was necessary to your survival, and vice versa. His smart yet cruel words often earned you both another day alive in this hellscape. Now, the same man who often offered nothing but dry scientific facts and cold words was quiet. You took a moment to admire the way the wrinkles around his weary eyes softened.

The tension built around you, ensnaring the air like a hungry snake. Distantly, you noticed how the bar music lulled to something slower.

You situated yourself between his legs. One hand rested on the counter he leaned on while the other dragged a brush lightly across his cheek.

You were so close now, brush held near his face and ready to condemn him with your touch- and makeup. Altraxian men didn't wear a lot of makeup. They wore sigils painted on their faces and slathered a ridiculous amount of rosy paint on their cheeks. But Ford already had red cheeks, so you needn't paint over that. You worked lightly and quickly, lest you risk annoying him and thinking too much about your quickening heartbeats. A shy, distant part of yourself screamed at the way your noses almost touched at the last flick of your brush.

God, pull yourself together, you're doing this for survival!

Being so focused on your work meant you missed the way Ford's six finger hands gripped the counter tighter. The tick on his jack was pronounced, his brows softened at your light caress. You missed the way he stopped breathing at the sensation of your soft knuckles gliding over his jawline.

You sighed, leaning back to look at your work. Ford's eyes were still closed. Upon closer inspection, you notice how dry his pale lips were. Honestly, when was the last time he drank water? Moisturized??

So to remedy this, you leaned in once again, thumb dipped with fruity lip balm. In one fluid motion, it went over his lower lips, slowly, carefully.

The world held it's breath as your gaze lingered on Ford's softened lips.

After a small eternity, you forced yourself to look away. Your eyes fluttered upwards, meeting Ford's coffee brown eyes, wide with shock. Cheeks red from embarrassment and what you suppose must be anger.

Dear god.

You stood frozen as your brain caught up with what you just did.

"Shit- sorry! Force of habit! We don't exactly have lipstick here!" you squeaked in one breath.

Stepping back as if you were burnt, you gave Ford his space back.

"Your lips were chapped," you murmured, looking away.

Ford's hands twitched. You looked away in embarrassment, body aflame with something you dare not name.

You prayed to the Axolotl and all the stars in the sky that the ceiling of this shoddy little dive bar would collapse on you- or better yet- for a blackhole to unravel you at a molecular level. Anything to escape this unbearable silence.

"It's… It's fine. They were quite dry." Ford's smooth, deep voice filled the awkward silence. You blinked, quietly sighing relief- at least he wasn't angry at your intrusion. You turned to hurriedly pack your makeup away.

"Don't touch your face! The sigil will smudge!" You huffed, after seeing him faintly touch his face in the mirror. In your haste, however, you missed the way Ford brought a hand to his lips. Chasing the fading warmth of your fingers from moments before. They tasted sweet.

English isn't my first language and I do struggle sometimes with present and past tense writing. Feel free to correct me and my grammar!

I was inspired. I love playing around with dynamics sm- Also, you can’t tell me a young Ford would not eat the HECK out of a bag of blue hot Doritos- He’s the kind of kid who would suck the dust off of every single one of his fingers too and not wash them, but complain about Stanley and his nasty Cheeto fingers.

Obviously references to Bills dead parents. Duh. But I thought it was funny. Inspired by this picture lol:

Gee wonder what THAT was all about- Sure hope our lil Ford didn’t accidentally summon a DEMON or somthing. That would be pretty foolish if you ask me.

WOAH! Updates? Hope you enjoyed part 7- One more part left and that’s the end of CHAPTER 1 with this fun lil au of mine. I have it all plotted out on a word document trust- Just gotta have faith in the process yk? lol. But I’ll leave you in suspense once again, cuz cliffhangers are the best.

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Idk guys- Something tells me our friend AXOLOTL doesn’t have a lot of experience in convincing small children to follow them into mysterious wormholes. Sure, Stan happens to be a sad little kid, but he’s a sad little kid WITHOUT A DEATH WISH! What could and Lottie possibly be planning…

Oh wow I actually posted. Had a bit of art block- And if there’s something I know, it’s to not FORCE yourself to draw if you don’t have to. If your art is feeling like a chore- TAKE A BREAK. It’s supposed to be fun lol. But yeah. WOOPIE! Waddea know, another cliffhanger!

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*Slaps comic onto table* “Here she is, ain’t she a beaut?”

Oh Ford you sweet summer child, let’s see what nonsense this so called “lead” takes you to… The circus is a direct reference to the Lost Legends comics if you’re wondering and yeah. lol. Hope you enjoyed this one, it was EXTRA TEDIOUS-

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3 BUCK STAN SORTA MASTERPOST

(Just to make it easier tbh)

Part 1

Part 1 1/2

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Extras:

Aftermath designs

Theraprism wholesome aftermath

Doodles

More doodles?

Explanation for those who are new:

3 Buck Stan is an AU in which Stanley Pines is yoinked up by our favorite resident AXOLOTL and is enlisted to preform a variety of intergalactic tasks. Meanwhile, Stanford Pines is having an aneurism over his lost brother and will end up making some unsavory deals with a certain triangular individual… Have I mentioned that they are both young children in this? Imagine it as “Pines twins and Bill getting therapy speedrun” because AXOLOTL decided to intervene earlier on. Chaos ensues.

Despite how everyone is acting- Ford is yet to give up on uncovering the mystery of where his brother has gone. No matter how many times people say that strange phrase- Something tells Ford that Stanley might not be in as “safe hands” as everyone claims…

Oh boy. The clue board makes its debut.

(Fourth installment labeled 3rd. Updates are happening people!)

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SPOILERS FOR 3 BUCK STAN AU AFTERMATH-

DONT WATCH IF YA DONT WANT THE ENDING SPOILED-

I couldn’t help but post this one- Character growth! This is set during the aftermath of 3 buck Stan AU and idk if you noticed- But it ends with Bill in Theraprism. Of course, you still won’t know HOW that happens and what leads up to it- But this gives some insight as to how Ford and Bill’s relationship in this AU played out. It’s very silly. I am not sorry. Nothing too crazy, I LOVE ALL OF THEM MEHAHAHAHA-

Technically the 3rd installment but tahdah- Part 2 of Stan and the AXOLOTL. What could go wrong? Featuring: Little Stanley feeling bad about himself! And what could possibly be to come… We will figure THAT out in the next one…

Sorry am I? Nah.

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AU In which Ford’s Science Fair Project goes HORRIBLY WRONG-

(And it’s not Stan’s fault this time-)

Handwriting translation:

Stan: “Look Sixer, I’m SURE that whatever doohickey you make- Is gonna knock the SOCKS offa’ those West Coasters”…

*Ford looks sheepish, if not grateful for his twin’s support*

Time skip: Later

*Both Stan and Ford look on at the scene blankly, as 3 soot silhouettes paint the gym floor- Marks of an explosion causing the waxed wooden court to be burnt.*

*Stan and Ford gaze at each other with equal looks of shock and horror*

*A small pile of ash seems to stand for a moment before blowing away. Nobody speaks- Until Stanley breaks the silence. His voice is shaky and hushed- Panic ebbing into his words as we pan to the ashy scene.*

Stan: “The socks are still on, Ford. The SOCKS are STILL on…”

*True to his word, alongside the 3 victims shoes- 3 pairs of white gym socks lay dormant inside of the footwear- And practically unscathed.*

Please, I need more of your “3 Bucks Stan Au”. It’s so heartbreaking and lovely at the same time

@aureliathejellyfish19 Worry not my friend, I will update eventually and trust me when I say, we haven’t even gotten to the good parts yet MWHAHAHAHA- But here, have a couple doodles while you wait lol

Uh oh Fordsie, your parents are acting awfully strange… The second installment of the 3 Buck Stan AU and our six fingered munchkin comes into play. Wonder what will come of that lol… I have a good idea on what will come next in this series/au, although I’ll likely be slow to post due to procrastinating- yk how it is lol. But yeah… next segment will probably get back to Stan and Mx Lottie’s nonsense as we finally get into the swing of things. It’s gonna be great, trust.

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So I have a funny au idea… In which Stan may or may not have been temporarily bought by the AXOLOTL (Under the guise of Mx. Lottie) in order to run some entirely ordinary errands… Ford is very confused as to why nobody is totally concerned about his brother’s whereabouts and intends to figure out what happened… Which may or may not involve making a deal with a weird triangle thing. There’s more to it, but that’s basically the gist of it. I think it’s pretty silly. Might make more stuff about this lol. It came to me in a dream lol-

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