30 one-shots/drabbles centering around one or both of the Stan twins. Genre may switch from chapter to chapter, and each chapter is an individual one not linked to other ones in the work. No romance is intended, but if you want to infer something then go ahead. Some chapters may be longer or shorter than others, length will vary. Chapters may also be either canon compliant or AUs
5: haze.
This had to be a dream. It had to be. There was no way something like this could be real, just no way! Ford would never die, would never just go and leave Stanley like that. Stanley would never not be there to protect his brother-- this couldn’t be real.
This was a dream.
Heat-Haze Daze!AU. cw: blood, death
AO3 Link <- fun spacing here Tumblr won’t let me use
N⁰₅. haze.
Pushing lightly off the burning sand with his sneaker-clad foot, Stanley Pines swung slowly, staring blankly at the coarse grains beneath him. Next to him his twin brother, Stanford, was smiling as he scribbled in his notebook, various doodles and seemingly nonsensical notes filling the margins of the flimsy pages.
“Hey, Ford,” Stan started, an uncharacteristically blank expression upon his face.
Looking up from his work, the elder Pines twin meet his brother’s matching gaze, a look of confusion evident upon his features. Stan was the type who always wore a smile, running this way and that and getting into trouble, their mother called him a “free spirit” for a reason. Even when he was hurt, his younger brother would shoot Ford a smile and insist he was fine. For the other to be showing his emotions like this had to mean it was bad.
“What’s wrong, Stan?” hoping his gaze would help to show the other he was concerned, the young tween dropped his notepad into his lap.
The pair had been sitting on the beach for a while now, not having school as it was Summer time. August was particularly hot on the Jersey shore, but there wasn’t a better place to spend time than at their favorite spot on Glass Shard beach.
It had to have been a good few hours now that they had been here, having rushed out excitedly as soon as they woke up. While they had worked on the Stan O’ War for a bit, now they were taking a break, the sun blazing down on them from high up in the centre of the sky. If Ford had to venture a guess, he’d say it was probably almost lunch time.
“Do you feel like...nah, never mind! It’s nothing, I was just thinking about something,” the other tween responded easily, shaking off his odd expression and replacing it with a smile.
For some reason, Stanley had had a weird sense of deja vu all day. Not the whole “I’m pretty sure I dreamt this happening before” kind of deja vu, more like a “something horrible is gonna happen soon and I gotta prevent it from happening this time” kind of feeling. That didn’t make sense, though, right? It’s not like someone could just go back in time and do things over again like in the comics!
Hopping off his swing, the younger boy turned to his brother, “Say, why don’t we go find us some food to eat, it’s probably lunch time and I’m getting pretty hungry!”
With a laugh, his twin readily agreed, moving to jump off the swing when a sudden gust of wind from the ocean’s expanse blew through them. Both boys squinted their eyes to protect themselves from the inevitable onslaught of uplifted sand, Ford’s widening marginally as his notes flew away.
“My notepad!” the boy cried, rushing off across the tan-coloured sea to reach his precious material.
The boys had been discussing earlier going on a trip to the Pine Barrens to see if they could find the Jersey Devil somewhere. While Stan wasn’t all together too interested in the supernatural, he did like being with his brother, and an adventure always sounded fun. Heck, when the two of them sailed off one day. They’d go on an adventure of a lifetime…!
A bit lost in his thoughts of their grand years to come, Stan ran after his brother at a slower pace, watching as the other rushed out onto the sidewalk past the boardwalk and into town. His own feet touching the pavement, the younger twin could only widen his eyes as his sibling ran out in the middle of the street. Ford was so caught up in catching his papers, the boy hadn’t noticed where he was going or stopped to check if there were any cars coming.
Oblivious to the danger, the elder brunet paused in the middle of the street, bending down to pick up his journeyed paper. The wind had finally dropped it down, and he was able to retrieve it. Letting out a sigh of relief, the bespectacled boy stood up straight, smiling down at his important research.
The blasting sound of a car horn cut through the air, snagging both boys’ attentions. His head snapping to the side, Ford watched as a large truck barreled towards him, the driver not having seen the child until it was too late. Stan watched with wide eyes from the edge of the sidewalk, frozen in place as his brother was slammed into the front grill of the truck, blood splattering the streets in a macabre painting.
“Stanford!” The boy screamed, the truck stopping just as it hit his beloved brother. A crowd of onlookers soon took notice of the scene, gathering around and whispering amongst themselves.
Ignoring the audience, staring as though it were some sort of sick show for their shock and entertainment, the twinless twin pushed through the group and collapsed on the ground next to his brother. Paying no heed to the sticky red liquid (almost like that sugary drink he and Ford had been sharing yesterday…), the child reached out his unsteady arms and shook his brother lightly.
“Poindexter...come on...wake up…!” he lamented, tears already flowing down his face in thick streams. Sniffling, the boy used one arm to wipe at his nose, continuing to call out, “Sixer! Nerd! Ford! ...Bro...please…!”
But no matter what he did, his twin wouldn’t answer him.
No one moved to comfort the boy, merely continuing to watch on as the child cried out.
Removing his hands, the boy looked down at the red-stained surface of his skin, reminded of the time they had gone out to pick strawberries at their pop-pop’s farm earlier that same summer.
This had to be a dream. It had to be. There was no way something like this could be real, just no way! Ford would never die, would never just go and leave Stanley like that. Stanley would never not be there to protect his brother-- this couldn’t be real.
This was a dream.
“It’s not a dream.”
“Ford!”
Stan awoke with a gasp, hand clutching his chest as he shot up, sweat staining his clothing. After a moment to calm down, the boy looked around, noticing he was in a completely different place than he had been in before.
--Wait, had been before? Where had he been?
Feeling his mind a bit muddied, the young boy took a deep breath, looking around the room. That’s right, he was at home in his room. He and Ford had just come back from being at their pop-pop’s house for a month, their mom had welcomed with them open arms (their father merely nodded in contrast), and they had had a dinner of microwaved chicken tv dinners before being shooed off to bed.
He and his bro had spent a few hours playing around and unpacking before heading off to bed, Ford to his top bunk and Stan to the bottom. Whatever he had dreamt about hadn’t been real, there was no reason for Stanley to be so worried.
Despite that, the boy couldn’t help himself. Hopping out of bed, the male looked up at the ladder reaching up to the top bunk where Ford lay. Unfortunately, the brunet was too short to be able to see if his brother was up there. He’d have to climb.
T aking a deep breath, the male grasped onto a rung, arms shaking (shaking...shaking as he pushed and pushed and pushed and why wouldn’t Ford just wake up- -). No, he had to do this, he had to be sure. Gathering his courage, Stanley slowly made his way up the ladder, doing in ten minutes what would have taken anyone without fear a mere two.
Gasping a bit to try to quell his shivering, the tween stopped as his hands reached the top rung, pulling him up. Peering over the wooden safety measure, brown eyes were met with the sight of his brother sleeping peacefully, blissfully unaware of the younger twin’s paranoia.
With a sigh of relief, Stan gave a smile at the sight. Seeing, his bro was fine, there was no reason for him to be so worried! That check finished, the male slowly climbed down, taking an even longer time to reach the bottom than he had to climb up the ladder.
Once his sock-clad feet touched the floor, the boy let out a breath of relief. There was no way he was climbing up there again any time soon!
A few hours later found Ford and Stan at their swingset again, Stan on his swing and Ford upon his own, scribbling in his notepad about whatever nerdy thing he was interested in today. All through the day the younger twin had felt a weird sense of deja vu, a bad one. Hadn’t they already done all this before? He didn’t mean going to the beach and playing, but saying these exact words and doing these exact things and these exact moments?
It was kinda hard to explain, and thinking about it too much started to make the boy’s head hurt.
Pushing lightly off the burning sand with his sneaker-clad foot, Stanley Pines swung slowly, staring blankly at the coarse grains beneath him. Next to him his twin brother, Stanford, was smiling as he scribbled in his notebook, various doodles and seemingly nonsensical notes filling the margins of the flimsy pages.
“Hey, Ford,” Stan started, an uncharacteristically blank expression upon his face.
Looking up from his work, the elder Pines twin meet his brother’s matching gaze, a look of confusion evident upon his features. Stan was the type who always wore a smile, running this way and that and getting into trouble, their mother called him a “free spirit” for a reason. Even when he was hurt, his younger brother would shoot Ford a smile and insist he was fine. For the other to be showing his emotions like this had to mean it was bad.
“What’s wrong, Stan?” hoping his gaze would help to show the other he was concerned, the young tween dropped his notepad into his lap.
The pair had been sitting on the beach for a while now, not having school as it was Summer time. August was particularly hot on the Jersey shore, but there wasn’t a better place to spend time than at their favorite spot on Glass Shard beach.
It had to have been a good few hours now that they had been here, having rushed out excitedly as soon as they woke up. While they had worked on the Stan O’ War for a bit, now they were taking a break, the sun blazing down on them from high up in the centre of the sky. If Ford had to venture a guess, he’d say it was probably almost lunch time.
“Do you feel like…” the younger hesitated for a moment.
“Like what?” the other questioned curiously.
“Like we’ve--!” Stanley began, only to be cut off as a gust of wind blew in from the great blue sea to the side of them.
Both boys squinted, hoping to protect themselves from the onslaught of coarse grains blowing up towards their faces. The elder male’s eyes widened as his notebook flew off his lap, the small pad flying off with the wind towards the edge of the boardwalk and into the town. Hopping off of his swing, the young boy made to rush forward, only to be stopped by a hand on his arm, “My notepad…! Stan!” he turned, looking at the other holding him back.
“Hey...Ford…I think we should go home,” the boy mumbled, eyes stuck to the ground.
Pausing at the return of the other’s uncharacteristic serious melancholy, the elder gave a small nod. Relaxing his stance, Stanford replied, “Alright. I can just get another notepad later anyways.”
Thankful for the agreement, Stanley returned the nod and began walking back towards their home, Ford following a bit behind him. Usually the two would walk side by side, but today the younger twin was more determined and anxious to get home. Not paying much mind to his surroundings, the boy concentrated on making his way home, goal to return to the safety of the inside and escape whatever horrible thing he was sensing to come.
“Stan, watch out!”
Two six-fingered hands on his back shoved the male forward, shocking the younger back into attention. Stumbling a bit, the male turned around to face his brother, eyes widening at the sight that greeted him.
Ford lay on the ground, red pools blossoming out from underneath his middle where a large construction pole stuck out. Looking up, the boy’s strangled gaze met the horrified looks of the men working above them, one of the steel poles they had been working with having slipped down from up above.
A sudden piercing ragged sound became known to Stanley, and he was struck to find it was his own voice screaming. Collapsing down into the sticky red mess surround his twin, the boy reached forward with shaking hands, ignoring the pieces of notepad paper that had blown by and become stuck in the crimson liquid beneath him.
Reaching his shaking arms forward, the tween pushed at his brother, begging for the male to respond to him, “Ford! Poindexter, come on!”
He received only a shaky smile in response.
A smattering of people gathered around the scene, some holding up hands to their mouths at the gruesome picture before them. Stan paid them no mind. No one offered to help.
This had to be a dream. It had to be. There was no way something like this could be real, just no way! Ford would never die, would never just go and leave Stanley like that. Stanley would never not be there to protect his brother-- this couldn’t be real.
This was a dream.
“It’s still not a dream.”
“Ford!”
Stan awoke with a gasp, hand clutching his chest as he shot up, sweat staining his clothing. After a moment to calm down, the boy looked around, noticing he was in a completely different place than he had been in before.
--Wait, had been before? Where had he been?
For some odd reason, Stanley felt he had been through this whole thing before…
Time continued to pass. Time continued to stop. Time continued to repeat. Again and again Stanley and Stanford would go out, and again and again, each same day without fail, Stanford would die. It took a few loops before the younger twin was able to notice it, but once he did, it was impossible to forget.
Drowning.
Burning.
An accident.
A fall.
No matter what he did, Stanley was unable to save his brother. He had tried everything, from staying home to keeping with their mom to staying in their fort. It didn’t work, there was always some way for Ford to be killed. It was as if the universe were taunting him, hurting Ford over and over again to show the boy he couldn’t save his brother.
As if Stanley would give up so easily.
It had taken him a while, perhaps even decades, to come up with this new plan. If he was right, Ford would be saved and this whole mess would finally come to an end. His twin would finally be able to live and go home, to see the next school year. To grow up. To smile.
Keeping the image of his twin’s smiling face in mind, Stan clenched a fist to his chest tightly.
Today had gone just as many others before it had. The two had played at the beach for a few hours before heading to the swings for a rest. While they had sat, a gust of wind blasted past them, stealing away Ford’s journal along with it. The elder male had then raced off, with Stan following close behind him. Now his elder twin stood in the middle of the street, a truck driver scrambling to stop but unable to prevent the collision.
But Stanley could prevent Ford from dying this time.
Shooting himself off from the sidewalk and into the street, the younger male barrelled into his brother, shoving him across the way and out of danger.
Unfortunately for the bandaged boy, that left him in the line of impact. He knew it would have come to this, and he had decided to take the fall. Stanley couldn’t imagine a world without his brother, and it was his duty to protect Ford.
If he was the one who got hurt, then Ford would be okay, wouldn’t he? Turning his head, the younger twin looked to his brother’s matching chocolate gaze. As the vehicle slammed into him, Stan couldn’t help but smile. He had finally won, after so long he had finally--
.
This had to be a dream. It had to be. There was no way something like this could be real, just no way! Stan would never die, would never just go and leave Stanford like that. Stanford had been so sure he had gotten it this time, that he had finally been able to save--
This was a dream.
“It’s still not a dream.”
“Stanley!”
Ford awoke with a gasp, hand clutching his chest as he shot up, sweat staining his clothing. After a moment to calm down, the boy looked around, noticing he was in a completely different place than he had been in before.
--Wait, had been before? Where had he been?
.
Over twenty years later, Stanley Pines woke up with a start, his shoulder burning and his breath coming in short gasps. Clutching at his chest, the male looked around the unfamiliar room.
the mum/mom friend
- very loving
- always worrying about friends
- cares a lot
- has a crush on brad pitt, probably
the dad friend
- cares about friends but sometimes kinda distant
- tells bad jokes
- sometimes embarrasses friends but they still love them so its ok
- the cool awkward friend
the sister friend
- no one can pick on their friends except them
- nice usually but can be deadly
- embarrassing sometimes but loveable
- surprisingly good with advice
the brother friend
- annoying but loveable
- has a rivalry with their friends
- makes bad jokes
- constantly has to be reminded that they can’t fight everything
the grandma friend
- always has sweets with them for reasons unknown
- makes things for their friends
- loves hugs and friends to bits
the cousin friend
- kinda distant and their friends don’t see them often
- when they do see them you’re like temporary best friends
- cool as hell
- understands
Anonymous said: If you like drawing crying then please more Stan hugs. Maybe Stan has a amnesiac episode while on the Stan o’ War and Ford is so scared and broken that he’d lose Stan for good this time because he isn’t Waddles or Mabel that he just starts openly crying. And seeing Ford so upset, that is when Stan remembers and Ford can’t contain his utter joy and sadness and he just clings to Stan, just a crying mess and Stan clings back because he is also scared but happy
Sorry took forever but the ideas kept changing around. I kept Stan somewhat calm just really really confused. Poor confused old man not sure how to deal with crying other old man. But they’ll be alright.
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