"Make sure you pay for the VIP seats!" || a Reverse Falls! stanely Pines. Both pfp and header made by me, as well as all art unless stated otherwise. Please read Pinned comment
"Welcome one and all to the Tent of Telepathy! I'm sure you must know by now of the town's darlings, my precious nephew and niece! But apparently ya youngsters are all about these new web sites and whatnot, so why not have a place for the whole world to see and shower them in well gained love and adoration! So come, get your tickets, and enjoy a show you won't forget!"
(The Tent of Telepathy does not pay for shipping fees nor accept refunds. Any and all suing attempts will be directed to Pines Co. The tent of Telepathy does not take responsibility for any physical emotional or psychological damages made to the clients if they have accepted any free trial)
Mod 🥀 here. Some related blogs:
Ford: @reverse-falls-ford
The Pines twins: @reverse-pines-twins
Warning: This blog contains themes of child abuse, domestic abuse, gaslighting, and alcohol drinking
My other blog: @gleeful-northwest-fam
This blog has confirmed Fiddlestan
Boundaries:
- Basic DNI criteria (Bigots)
- No queerphobic, racist, etc asks or jokes. That's not the type of asshole I'm playing or am interested in portraying
- Romantic and lightly suggestive asks are fine- just keep in mind that Mod is +18 and plans to keep this general blog around PG 13 in that aspect
- Ocs and other reverse falls blogs are encouraged to interact
- Angst, insults and violence are accepted and to an extent encouraged, this guy is an asshole, just keep in mind if it makes me uncomfortable I will let you know
It's a rare right of all time. Stanford is sitting in the living room, hair disheveled, hunched forward, and he had a beer bottle in hand. His shirt was half untucked, and his amulet had a persistent glow.
He held onto the bridge of his nose, brows furrowed. He hadn't shaved in at least two days.
He looked like he hadn't slept in at least two days.
Maybe this is more than a rare sight, because no human being has ever seen Stanford Pines this disheveled before.
He didn't even react when he heard footsteps entering the room.
@reverse-falls-ford
Stan knocked on the wall, letting his borther know he was there. It was rude to interrupt Ford without knocking, lack of door be damned.
"That's mine," he walks up to him and takes the bottle straight for his hand. "What happened to no drinking, huh? One pebble in your path and you come apart"
He shot up and glared at Stanley- then wobbled and nearly tripped over the ottoman. He caught himself, but he was trembling, taking ridged breaths. His hands hovered at his side for a moment before he reached out.
"Give. It. Back."
His pendant glowed dangerously, the air around them thinned.
There was hardly a sip left in the bottle. Stanford didn't bother to catch it. He moves out of the way, and it shatters on the floor behind him. He looks at Stanley in disbelief.
He backed off, but the magic only seemed to get worse. He composed himself, pushing back his hair and standing up straight, but the room was spinning. Literally and metaphorically.
"I am not fragile. I am concerned."
"Shes run away- she left a note, don't you understand? I failed."
With everything he says, the hair became heavier. The whirling got louder.
"After all I've done for her- after I took her in, set her up for the best life possible, I was even willing to ket her have that rat Northwest as a friend- with MINIMAL conditions!"
There was hatred in his voice. His hands weren't in their normal place folded behind his back, instead, they were wildly flying around to emphasize his point. Reminiscent of their father, Filbrick, when he was upset.
"And yet somehow, I'm a failure as a father? Me?"
Something must have snapped in his mind, because at that moment, the light went out, the vases shattered, and everything went still.
Stanley couldn't help but take a step back as the whirlwind of magic surrounded him. Old survival instincts guided his eye to the nearest exit and trained his arms into a protective stand
Yet when it all came to a halt, he remained there. They were both much alike to their father, yes. But Stanford had always been the better man. Even in hus anger.
He lit up the place with his amulet, just enough so they coukd see each other
"You're the only one calling yourself a failure. That, and a good for nothing dead beat"
It's a rare right of all time. Stanford is sitting in the living room, hair disheveled, hunched forward, and he had a beer bottle in hand. His shirt was half untucked, and his amulet had a persistent glow.
He held onto the bridge of his nose, brows furrowed. He hadn't shaved in at least two days.
He looked like he hadn't slept in at least two days.
Maybe this is more than a rare sight, because no human being has ever seen Stanford Pines this disheveled before.
He didn't even react when he heard footsteps entering the room.
@reverse-falls-ford
Stan knocked on the wall, letting his borther know he was there. It was rude to interrupt Ford without knocking, lack of door be damned.
"That's mine," he walks up to him and takes the bottle straight for his hand. "What happened to no drinking, huh? One pebble in your path and you come apart"
He shot up and glared at Stanley- then wobbled and nearly tripped over the ottoman. He caught himself, but he was trembling, taking ridged breaths. His hands hovered at his side for a moment before he reached out.
"Give. It. Back."
His pendant glowed dangerously, the air around them thinned.
There was hardly a sip left in the bottle. Stanford didn't bother to catch it. He moves out of the way, and it shatters on the floor behind him. He looks at Stanley in disbelief.
It's a rare right of all time. Stanford is sitting in the living room, hair disheveled, hunched forward, and he had a beer bottle in hand. His shirt was half untucked, and his amulet had a persistent glow.
He held onto the bridge of his nose, brows furrowed. He hadn't shaved in at least two days.
He looked like he hadn't slept in at least two days.
Maybe this is more than a rare sight, because no human being has ever seen Stanford Pines this disheveled before.
He didn't even react when he heard footsteps entering the room.
@reverse-falls-ford
Stan knocked on the wall, letting his borther know he was there. It was rude to interrupt Ford without knocking, lack of door be damned.
"That's mine," he walks up to him and takes the bottle straight for his hand. "What happened to no drinking, huh? One pebble in your path and you come apart"
He shot up and glared at Stanley- then wobbled and nearly tripped over the ottoman. He caught himself, but he was trembling, taking ridged breaths. His hands hovered at his side for a moment before he reached out.
"Give. It. Back."
His pendant glowed dangerously, the air around them thinned.
There was hardly a sip left in the bottle. Stanford didn't bother to catch it. He moves out of the way, and it shatters on the floor behind him. He looks at Stanley in disbelief.
It's a rare right of all time. Stanford is sitting in the living room, hair disheveled, hunched forward, and he had a beer bottle in hand. His shirt was half untucked, and his amulet had a persistent glow.
He held onto the bridge of his nose, brows furrowed. He hadn't shaved in at least two days.
He looked like he hadn't slept in at least two days.
Maybe this is more than a rare sight, because no human being has ever seen Stanford Pines this disheveled before.
He didn't even react when he heard footsteps entering the room.
@reverse-falls-ford
Stan knocked on the wall, letting his borther know he was there. It was rude to interrupt Ford without knocking, lack of door be damned.
"That's mine," he walks up to him and takes the bottle straight for his hand. "What happened to no drinking, huh? One pebble in your path and you come apart"
He shot up and glared at Stanley- then wobbled and nearly tripped over the ottoman. He caught himself, but he was trembling, taking ridged breaths. His hands hovered at his side for a moment before he reached out.
"Give. It. Back."
His pendant glowed dangerously, the air around them thinned.
It's a rare right of all time. Stanford is sitting in the living room, hair disheveled, hunched forward, and he had a beer bottle in hand. His shirt was half untucked, and his amulet had a persistent glow.
He held onto the bridge of his nose, brows furrowed. He hadn't shaved in at least two days.
He looked like he hadn't slept in at least two days.
Maybe this is more than a rare sight, because no human being has ever seen Stanford Pines this disheveled before.
He didn't even react when he heard footsteps entering the room.
@reverse-falls-ford
Stan knocked on the wall, letting his borther know he was there. It was rude to interrupt Ford without knocking, lack of door be damned.
"That's mine," he walks up to him and takes the bottle straight for his hand. "What happened to no drinking, huh? One pebble in your path and you come apart"
He chuckles, "fucking rich. I'm the one doing all the work around here. If he vrings in a stray, he should be the one taking care of it. Then he has the gull to talk shit about me"
"Oh, definitely. I still don't see what possessed him to do something so... irrational." He let out a big puff of smoke, instense enough even despite the window beingbopen the stenche remained
He doesn't comment on the scars, just hums.
"If it helps at all, if he did look for them, they're probably dead in a ditch somewhere. Your parents, I mean"
He chuckles, "fucking rich. I'm the one doing all the work around here. If he vrings in a stray, he should be the one taking care of it. Then he has the gull to talk shit about me"
He chuckles, "fucking rich. I'm the one doing all the work around here. If he vrings in a stray, he should be the one taking care of it. Then he has the gull to talk shit about me"
He chuckles, "fucking rich. I'm the one doing all the work around here. If he vrings in a stray, he should be the one taking care of it. Then he has the gull to talk shit about me"
Writing under cut done by me and @angst-estefany ! Their Stanford Pines from their rev falls au :3
Cw: Child abuse
Briar had been writing for hours. The same thing, over and over and over again- he couldn't print it. His great uncle would know. He always seems to know everything, every single slipup-
Briar mind begun to wander, to where, who knows? He was so tired, but he had to keep writing. Backward words upon front wards incantations- no sense of rhyme or reason or whereabouts. His hands hurt.
His eye hurt.
He wanted
To just
Sleep...
SLAM.
Brair jolted awake, ink smeared on side of his face. He looked for the source of the noise and saw some books that had been thrown down next to him, and a very disappointed lookong Stanford.
"Taking a nap, are we? I assume this means you finished the task I had for you?"
He picks him up from the hair, "This is so unlike yourself, you're always so well behaved."
That piercing cold voice sent a chill down his spine, and despite his best efforts, Briar couldn't help a little whine.
"Perhaps you just need some motivation."
Stanford traces the rune on the back of the boy's neck with practiced ease, and before the charcoal can fall off he mutters: "Ignitio."
In a moment, Briar feels his whole body set ablaze from the core of his bones, it hurts no less than any of the times before.
He shouts, and in response, an impossible new wave of scorching heat washes over him
The apparent eternity of Hellfire leaves just as quickly as it came, and of course there is no evidence of his pain. He's not even allowed the traces of smoke or burn scars that would prove to him this pain was real in the first place.
"Hopefully that will give you some more energy, hm?"
Choco hadn't seen Fiddleford in months. They had been... trying not to cause trouble. Honestly, they weren't doing so well, their brain fog almost...
They almost forgot Fidd's name.
Or did they? They hadn't spared their childhood hero a second thought for so long, even after that whole... situation. It seems like something they would have kept thinking about.
Either way, they found something of his at their house the other day. It reminded them? To come check on him...
"H...here..." They handed him a neatly folded jacket. "... sorry, knoe a' ain't supposed ta be here."
Who... who was... Oh! "Choco!" Yes, he remembered now, that sweet young man!
He quickly took the jacket, holding it close, "Oh, hogwash, I'm so glad to see you. H- how have you been?"
"I- I don't know. I'm- there's this stuff. Jt feels like I'm rememberin'? But it makes no sense"
He unfolded the jacket. A sharp pain assaulted him, and he saw it—Stanley taking it from him, shouting about how Fiddleford shouldn't be going out anyways
Then he was back, "You've helped me before with ny mind, right? Please. Please help me again"
"I would. Actually the- the orchard! Wherver you took me when we met. I think..." he looked towards the the mannor, for a moment returning to his ever so meek self, "I think it'd be better over there"
They smiled, nodded, and gestured for Fiddleford to follow them.
They brought Fiddleford to the Orchard.
[ ... I must admit, I'm not quite sure how you know about this place, but I hope it helps. It's a wonderful place, always helps me calm down... peaceful. ]
Brief flashes of bringing Fiddleford here before. They must have.
"Choco. Look at me. I need ya to be honest with me, got it? I need ya to look at me"
He looks around, as if checking for any intruders, and statt signing
[I don't know what's going on. I feel like I'm going insane, except this is the most real anything has felt in years. There's these memories, they've been coming to me, but they don't match up. I remember you, and fights with Stan over stuff that didn't happen, and the kids lashing out. Does that make sense to you? Do you remember any of this?"
"Goddamn it! I know- you were the only one helping me! I know that! Useless farmboy-'
He stopped himself, then let out a tired sigh. "Sorry. Yer trying, I'm sure. Maybe... Maybe I am going insane. I don't wanna go back in there, Choco. I feel like... s- something will go wrong"
"Either way, you should be at least a little worried about it. Besides, what if someone else sees those scars? They'll start asking questions, and we don't need that kind of attention"
