now kiss

18+ | obligatory stancest sideblog

[elligy]

This was such a cute textpost. :D 

More stancest fluff!

[toastybumblebee]

Already working on the sequel ✌

[marunaga-keita-blog]

[toastybumblebee]

stancest ♦:

♦: slow dancing

Ford doesn’t really know how to dance and is a bit shy…Stan thinks he is actually cute.

[hyperion-company-mom-deactivate]

I honestly don’t know what I’m doing 👀

[mortiified]

catch of the day/

ford collects stuff people lose, aka. his glasses

[forkee]

>HAppy Stans!! !

[entrailz]

reupload! had to fix some things and make sure it was acceptable. thanks @ficksuck for commissioning me!!!!!

[blueberryblossomed-blog]

I’m just a new trash shipper, don’t mind me at all, lalala..

[junosunderland-deactivated20190]

in honor of the superbowl

for @colonel-bastard

[that-dirty-bastard]

“Look, all I’m saying is,  it oughta be enough that we’re on the wrestling team.”

Ford sighs and stares up at the ceiling of the locker room.  He can hear the note of genuine frustration in Stan’s voice and he hates that he can’t do anything about it.

“All you have to do is try out,” he reassures.  “That’s all Dad asked for.  Nobody ever said anything about playing the season.”

“Good,” Stan huffs.  “Because there’s no freakin’ way.  I am not cut out for this formation team player bullshit.”

Ford smiles to himself.  “No, you sure aren’t.”

He stares down at the grimy floor.   Stan let him come into the locker room with him, but he refused to let Ford watch him change— he’s too self-conscious about struggling into the unfamiliar uniform.  Ford offered to help him figure it out, but as usual, Stan insisted on doing it his own way.  

“You about done yet?”  Ford calls.

“Yeah, yeah,” Stan mutters.  “Just— don’t laugh, okay?”

“I won’t.  Promise.”

Stan steps into view.  

Ford sucks in a breath.

That uniform.  

Keep reading

[ddeactoovated-blog]

HO

LEE SHIT

THAT WAS AMAZING

well haha

one good turn certainly deserves another, so I drew up the inevitable aftermath

[actual-secret-sin]

Just some kisses.

[glossomer-old]

Stancest in stan's car

((Yey  teen Stans making out~))

[fordsin-deactivated20160712]

I see you're taking requests? Could we see some cute smooches from Ford and Stan?

here you go!

[busmall]

5, stancest. make it cute or rip my heart out, go

It was a sudden and unexpected rustle of sheets from theother side of the bed that awoke Stan from a deep sleep that night. “Ford?”Stan mumbled, voice still thick with sleep. He felt around in the darkness forthe lamp pull and switched it on. “Wha’ time is it?”

Ford let out a low moan in reply and his face scrunched upin pain. “P-please…” he mumbled, “Stanley…help me, Stanley…” That woke Stan upfully. He sat up in bed and turned towards his brother, who was curled in onhimself. A thin sheen of sweat began to form on his forehead as Ford’s legs kickedout madly before growing still. “H-help,” he called faintly before curling intoan even tighter ball. Rarely had Stan seen Ford this vulnerable. Whatever wasgoing on in his dream, it was getting bad. Stan reached out with a gentle handand placed it on his brother’s shoulder, giving it a light shake. “Wake up.”

He immediately regretted his actions. Ford’s eyes snappedopen and within seconds Stan felt the cold muzzle of a gun pressed to histemple. Blue mist leaked out of its barrel and Stan swallowed, withdrawing hishands. “Sixer, it’s me.”

Ford stared ahead with blank eyes and his grip on the gundid not waver. “Get out of here before I blow your head off,” he growled, upperlip curling dangerously.

“It was just a dream.” Stan chose his words carefully andspoke each one with force. If anything, Ford was still out of it, trapped insome hellish nightmare. It scared Stan just how quickly Ford had gone from deadasleep to alert, drawing a weapon in the blink of an eye. Stan didn’t want tothink about how practiced his brother’s movements seemed or how many times Fordhad done this until it had become second nature. “You’re home now, s’nothing toworry about.”

“Liar.” The gun began to make a low humming sound not unlikea generator roaring to life. It faintly occurred to Stan that Ford was charginga shot, much like a laser rifle straight out of a sci-fi Saturday cartoon. Therewas something hollow and wrong about the way Ford stared him down, eyeslistless and dead as if there was no one home upstairs. Sleepwalking? No, thiswas something far worse, far more sinister. “If you don’t move I’ll kill you.”

“Ford, wake up, it’s me, it’s your brother.” When thisfailed to prompt a reaction Stan grew more desperate. There were nights likethis before, times where Ford could not wake up and Stan would spend severalfrantic moments shaking his brother back and forth like a ragdoll to pull himout of his nightmares. But none had lasted this long, and Ford hadn’t sleptwith his gun in months. Against his better judgement Stan grabbed on to thelapels of Ford’s coat and shook him. “Stanford, you’ve got to snap out of it!”He was practically shouting and his hands trembled. Ford’s body sat in front ofhim but the man himself was somewhere very far away, replaced by someone—no, something else.

Ford’s gunarm tensed and Stan’s gut reaction kicked in,ducking out of the way just in time to miss having his brain fried. A flash ofblue light sliced into his cheek and shot past his head, slamming into the ceilingbefore exploding in a shower of sparks and charred wood particles. Stan yelpedand clapped a hand to his face, palm coming away slick and bloody.

The gun clattered to the floor as Ford blinked and his eyescame back into focus. “W-where am I?” he mumbled, glancing around the roombefore his gaze settled on his brother. “Stanley, are you hurt?”

Stan nodded wordlessly and sat up, fingers still pressedtight to his bleeding cheek. “You were having a nightmare. Tried to wake you upand you gave me the business end of your gun.” Ford’s eyes widened in shock butStan waved him off. Better to ease Ford’s worries, to pretend his brother didn’t just try to murder him in coldblood, than to make a big deal out of things. “’M gonna be fine, I have somegauze in the closet for this.”

Ford paled and reached out to Stan, pushed his hand away andtraced a shaky thumb across the wound on Stan’s cheek. He let out a choked sob. You will always hurt the ones you love mosta cold voice intoned somewhere deep in his mind. Thirty years has not changed that, nor will thirty more.

“Oh Stanley, what have I done?”

[eridz]

doodles

[oldcellar]

14 or 15 stancest? Thank you :)

“Tell me the truth.”

“No.”

“Sixer, you said ‘truth’ the idea behind ‘truth’ is-”

“I know what it is!” Ford snaps waspishly, “Fine! I’ll-I’ll take dare then!”

A seventeen year old Stanley Pines beams, “Okay, then I dare you to call the person yer crushin’ on!”

“That’s-that’s no different than truth!” Ford cries in dismay.

“No, for truth I wanted ya to tell me who you were crushin’ on. For dare, I want you to call ‘em. Two different things. Common theme maybe, but-”

“Stanley,” Ford’s voice is soft, embarrassed, “I-I can’t do either one.”

‘Well, ya gotta. Them’s the rules.”

“Then I don’t want to play anymore!” Ford mutters and he goes to get to his feet, but Stan takes a gentle hold of his wrist, halting him, “Hey, c’mon…it’s not a big deal! Just tell me her name.”

“There…there is no her.”

Stan looks at him with some confusion, “But I heard you, you told Jimmy you had a crush on somebody…”

“I,” Ford licks his lips, his face bright pink, “I only told him that under duress and it-it’s not important.”

“Okay, but if it’s not important that doesn’t change the face that you gotta crush on somebody and if it’s not a her…” Stan trails off as a thought occurs to him, “Oh.”

“Oh? What ‘oh’?”

Stan edges closer to his brother, tone gentle, “Sixer…if…if it’s a-a guy - that’s okay.”

Ford’s eyes grow huge and Stan knows he’s hit the nail on the head, “Ford, I promise - I won’t tell nobody. Not ever. Now…who is he?”

His brother looks wildly unhappy and just as Stan’s positive he won’t get an answer he gets a softly whispered, “Stanley.”

“What?”

“No…no, the-the name…it’s….it’s Stanley.”

Stan searches his memory, “Who? Stanley Beechman? Stanley Williams? Stanley-”

“Pines,” Ford clarifies, looking close to tears, face pale, “Stanley Pines.”

“That’s my name.” He returns dumbly and at Ford’s expression the truth sinks in. He can’t even manage an ‘oh’ this time. Ford starts babbling on. He talks rapid fire about how he’s sorry and about how he doesn’t mean it and how he’s just messing with him and they should just forget the whole thing but Stan…

Stan knows it’s true.

Ford has a crush on him.

His twin.

His brother.

His twin brother has a crush on him.

And Stan doesn’t know why, but it sends a wild thrill through him and the next thing he knows, Ford’s words are cut off by his lips as he kisses him. He kisses Ford just as much to shut him up as to just…to just kiss him.

And at first, Ford is completely unresponsive. At first. But then he’s kissing him back and everything - well, everything just feels oddly perfect. Oddly right. And sure as hell truthful.

[grapefruitbomba]

I must say that in Ford’s first face he was ready to punch someone directly in the face.