These Two Make Me Sick

hey. you got any good stancest fic recs? 👀 i trust your opinion over any other stancest blog rn

!!!!!!

Omg, that is so so sweet????? I'm not sure what I did to earn that trust, but thank you!!!

Okay, here are some of my favs, but I'm still making my way through the tag!!

What We Used To Be - By fractured_hourglass (M)

Here's one of the fics I first read when I got into stancest, it broke into my home and tore my heart apart with its angst but it was so GOOD???? SO fucking good, great angst, spectacular writing and characterization. It takes place between stanchurian candidate and last mabelcorn, so don't expect a happy ending in the first part, BUT it's insanely good. The summary is that Stan and Ford are trying to learn to live together again, but they keep fighting, and implications that they were something more...makes everything worse. And when Jimmy Snakes, an old fling of Stan's is back in town, Ford gets more and more irritable until shit hits the fan. There is also a part 2 now that wraps everything up nicely!

Any Way You Want It - By Pandame (E)

An untraditional A/B/O fic that is deliciously hot. Ford comes out of the portal...different.

Miss Missing You - By theywerefireworks (E)

A fic post weirdmageddon where Ford tries to make Stan remember their shared memories together--even if they aren't all that pretty.

Oral Communication - by fishingboatblues (E)

Stan starts leaving notes in code, leaving Ford to decipher them.

Sweet Dreams and Glacier's Rock - by Frondere (E)

The twins take a trip, and there's only one bed 👀

everything you feel is good - by businessboyjared (E)

A delightful pwp where Ford walks in on Stan watching porn. What happens next will shock you.

TV Remotes and Ice-Cream - by wubdub_redux (G)

A really sweet fluffy fic about Stan being awkward about his feelings, but luckily Ford is really dense.

And last, but CERTAINLY not least, a fic I'm still reading right now and it's in progress but is SO good:

many dreams come true, and some have silver linings - by GoodbyeBabylon (E)

This fic is just. Chefs kiss. It's so well done. It's the pining Stancest fic I have yearned for, where they are OLD and PINING and STILL have trouble communicating. It's so so good guys. Highly recommend.

And there you have it!! There are probably some I'm forgetting, and like I said I'm still going through the tag, but please enjoy! :D

a little heart to heart

I love flatland. <3

It's concept and world building is so unique. But one thing I've always found interesting is the concept of a 2D creature actually being able to SEE 3D when it is lifted out of it's plane.

In the book and in most interpretations, The 2D person is finally able to SEE 3D. But in reality it's likely that it would be physically impossible for them to see outside of their regular field of view.

Remember, a 2D person's eyes are also 2D, and because of this, they are specifically only able to see lines.

They're eyes have evolved this way, so when lifting them out of their plane of existence, they still can only see lines. These lines may change when flipping them around in space, but they'd never TRULY be able to see in 3D.

Not that I care too much, because it's a much more interesting concept to ignore the reality. But still an interesting premise....

......i hope at least one person even slightly understands what im trying to talk about.

tried my hand on stancest meta but tumblr ate up my draft that was a fullblown essay like the functioning app that it is, so i'm just going to post my twitter screenshots here lmao

Minor detail, but did F stay in Ford's cabin when he first came to GF? J3 wrote that F left for somewhere while Ford (with Bill's help) finished off the rest of the calculations

I'm not sure, but I think it's implied that he has an apartment? At least, the room he's at in the memory gun footage doesn't match with any room we see in Ford's cabin, once made into the Shack or otherwise. It might not even be an apartment anyway, but it's definitely not Ford's place.

And an apartment feels more likely, since Fiddleford was only planning to be staying in Gravity Falls for the duration of the portal business. Buying a house and dealing with the mortgage instead of simply renting an apartment for however many months this ordeal was feels like a waste. We see moments later in the footage that Fiddleford was living in a hotel of some sort, probably after failing to pay up rent for his apartment or some other reason probably related to his growing insanity and the worsening state of his room. Either way, he wasn't living in Ford's home as the change from an apartment to the hotel happened 273 days after the first recorded exposure for this specific memory, likely far after Ford was portaled. And we know Ford's house wasn't being lived in by anyone other than Ford when Stan arrived.

anyway, this got long but I hope it was useful. I tried to look for other references to where Fiddleford was going in the journal but I couldn't find anything (at least not in the regular one, perhaps there's something in the blacklight one, doubtful but y'know) thanks for asking

Inspired by shmisky's post, here's my redraw of Stan and Ford from the iconic scene from Princess Mononoke. I just HAD to get this one out of my system, I was obsssesseddd

This is a Stancest acrylic stand I drew and shared with other Gravity Falls fans at the largest fan convention in China. I personally love this stand because it looks absolutely delicious 🤤🤤. The one next to it is an acrylic stand of Randy's poop from South Park, and the stickers in the background are of Deadpool."

I remember that day when we arrived at the beach—it was already too late. Everyone had left, leaving behind only the remnants of fireworks scattered across the sand. Colorful confetti, soaked by the sea, made the advertising print on them nearly illegible. Among shards of broken colored glass and seaweed, you found an already opened condom wrapper in the muck and excitedly pointed it out to me, while I felt nothing but disgust.

At the time, I didn’t love this filthy backyard excuse for a scenic spot. I hated how dull, backward, and utterly empty it was. I especially despised how other small-town residents saw it as some romantic haven, drawing teenagers who wandered the damp sand like pilgrims. They’d come meticulously dressed, as if convinced their destined love would emerge from the sea, birthed into the arms of a lonely soul like a newborn from its mother’s amniotic fluid. But this was the 1970s—the moon was already covered in steel machines. Even Venus ought to emerge from a delivery room by now. The beach was no place for romantic miracles.

You nudged me and told me to take off my shoes. I didn’t. You burst into laughter and, with no regard for the risk of being cut by glass, walked barefoot onto the damp sand. I watched your feet, but you didn’t step on anything—not glass, not anything else. You kept walking into the sea, farther and farther, fading into the growing darkness. Soon, I could barely make out your figure in the vast, dark ocean. Then you stopped, raised your arms, and shouted toward the opposite shore, your voice swallowed at the edges by the white noise of the waves. You sounded happy.

When you came back, you said, disappointed, that you hadn’t expected everyone else to leave so early. You strained your eyes toward the other side but saw nothing—not even the lights of New York. Because it’s already four in the morning, I said, swallowing the second half of my sentence. We were late because I wouldn’t leave the house until I finished an assignment I was deeply invested in at the time. You never interrupted my studies.

We leaned against the car, watching sparks crawl along the fuses of the fireworks you’d set up, and you cracked open a can of beer. I declined when you offered me one, immediately regretting it. The fuse took far too long to ignite the firework. I had nothing to do but look around and again caught sight of the torn condom wrapper. Not long ago, someone had made love here, I thought. Then you moved.

We were standing so close that I could feel your body heat in the gaps between the sea breeze. Someone had made love here, right on this beach, and now we stood on the very same sand where they had.

The firework exploded—yellow and orange. You shouted in excitement, but I was lost in thoughts of what happens when people make love. They take off their clothes. They touch each other. They whisper sweet words. Smoke rolled up from the firework casing as I turned to look at your face, bathed in orange-red light. Then, with a jolt of horror, I realized that lovers also kiss on this beach.

As the yellow sparks faded, they turned the color of calcium chloride. The purple ones, I thought, must be from strontium salts and copper chloride. These burning metal salts streaked through the air, their brilliant colors dyeing the smoke that trailed behind them. I tilted my head and lowered my gaze, pretending to examine the firework casing but really sneaking glances at your face from the corner of my eye, trying to study the shape of human lips.

Kissing. I thought about the word. I didn’t know how to French kiss, but at that moment, I knew nothing could stop me from leaning forward and pressing my lips to yours. A chill ran down my spine.

I asked myself why I would think such a thing, but a more terrifying voice asked why I wouldn’t. Maybe it was a kind of high-place phenomenon, like wondering whether touching the firework would hurt. I wanted to know what it felt like to jump from a great height, to drink sulfuric acid, to press a blade hard enough to slice my finger open, to walk into the sea and let myself be submerged. I wanted to know what would happen if I kissed you. It was all just idle thoughts, but in that moment, I felt dizzy, hyperaware of every part of my body as though I might forget to breathe if I didn’t focus.

I started to feel trapped inside my own small body. I thought I saw you glance at me, and I was terrified you might know. I was even more terrified that you didn’t, because that would mean we weren’t close enough.

I wondered what excuses I could use if I did it, and that thought pained me because I wanted to be honest with you. Sitting beside you on that New Year’s night, watching the fireworks turn purple, all I could think about was how intensely I felt that if I didn’t kiss you at that moment I might die,I would never have another chance. Summoning all my courage, I finally turned to look at you, overwhelmed by thoughts and realizing I might start vomiting if I didn’t speak. Just then, you turned to look at me too. In your eyes, I saw the reflection of the fireworks.

You said, “After we finish the fireworks, can we go to my friend’s house and watch a movie? There’ll be a bunch of people—it’ll be fun.”

I said, “Sure.”

We finished setting off all the fireworks we had. It was fun. We even tried to use the fireworks to light the surface of the sea. On the way back, we saw other people—they had just gone elsewhere to hang out. You stroked the steering wheel, musing about how great the car’s engine was, and that was the first time in my life I felt shame.

NSFW thing

Fic: Santa Baby

Rating: Adult

Notes: Because I’m induniated with Christmas music at work…(Set in Divide verse, but you don’t have to have read that to get the gist of this). Forgive mistakes - mostly written from mobile. Happy Holidays to all my followers, I wish you well and this is my gift to you! :)

“Stanley, this is never going to work.”

“Oh ye of little faith,” Stan says from the other room. Ford can’t see him, but he knows what his brother is up to and it’s ridiculous, “I don’t know why I agreed to this in the first place…”

“Face it, Sixer - your husband is a gamblin’ man. I’m rubbing off on you.”

While Ford feels the pleasant of hum of Stan referring to him as his husband, he still can’t help but let out an exasperated sigh, “Perhaps, but taking this bet? Ludicrous. There’s no way I won’t win,” he sniffs with some self assured arrogance, “I almost feel sorry for you.”

“You just wait,” Stan’s voice holds its own note of pride, “You won’t be able to contain yourself when you see me in this get-up.”

“You are correct. I won’t be able to contain my laughter.”

Seguir leyendo