A while ago some anon asked me to draw stangst, and today I finally deliver with it. My heart breaks into pieces every time I think of those 30 years the Stan twins spent in loneliness ;-;
I'm at work so I'll have to expand on this later .....maybe ANYWAYS I have an idea for an au...
Stan and Ford as multi dimensional space pirates. That it! The pines brothers as multi dimensional space pirates where they go around to different dimensions and loot cool items. I was also thinking that bill and his henchmaniacs are like a rival pirate crew or something not sure again I'll probably expand more on this
#chilli cheese casserole
The Beginning (1), Aftermath (2) (here), next
Extra! (The Apology)
Ford didn’t know how long it took for him to pry himself off the floor, but it felt like hours later when he managed to trudge his way upstairs, eyes burning and throat raw. There was new blood on his knuckles, and Ford couldn’t remember if it was Stan’s or his own. He’d tried to scrub the blood off of the portal, but most of it had been too high and Ford was so tired.
He couldn’t fall asleep in the basement, he chanted to himself, again and again and again and it only occurred to him once he stood swaying at the top the of the stairs, that is didn’t actually… matter, anymore.
It didn’t matter what Bill did, or didn’t do.
The portal was broken beyond repair. His brother was dead.
The journal is gone. his mind whispered insidiously, and he couldn’t remember if he’d always been so cruel to himself, or if it was a byproduct of Bill. You got what you wanted, Sixer. How does it feel?
Ford hobbled to the bathroom as fast as he could manage, and hurled his guts out into the toilet. When all that came up was acrid bile, though, and Ford wondered idly when we he last ate. It didn’t matter.
None of it mattered, Ford decided firmly, hands clenched on either side of the porcelain bowl so hard that they looked bloodless in the harsh white light. It didn’t matter what he felt, or didn’t feel.
Not anymore.
The journal was gone. That was a good thing, it meant that the portal could never be rebuilt again. Stanley made an honorable… he. He’d made an honorable sacrifi—
Ford hunched over the toilet and heaved again. Nothing came out.
Impossibly, time kept moving.
Ford was left drifting in the current, from room to room, machine to first aid kit to paper to specimen to paper to circling the door of his lab again and again like an anxious sentry. He didn’t process any of it, and eventually, the door was the only thing left in the house that felt truly real. It was the only mystery left that Ford could pay any real mind to, and most of the time he wanted nothing more than burn the whole thing to the ground.
Sitting against the door, head leaned back and staring at the ceiling, Ford searched his mind for something. Anything.
A plan, a goal, fuck, he’d take the will to actually get out of the house and get groceries despite the constant chance of being watched at this rate. There was near nothing left to eat in the cabinets that wasn’t rank with age, and Ford knew he was wasting away like this.
But there was nothing. No part of him cared.
He knew he’d always had the wildest aspirations as a kid and as a young man, that he’d never stop reaching for bigger and better heights, but the light had blinded him with its promise, and now he’d fallen. He’d fallen so far.
He’d said Icarus didn’t flap hard enough, when Fiddleford tried to warn him of his own hubris all those weeks ago. Now he was just glad he wasn’t an English major, because it had taken him all of this just to realize that Icarus had found the sun, been embraced by the promise of warmth, and burned for it.
Trust no one.
Ford traced an idle finger against the freshly bandaged burn on the underside of his hand.
And no one should ever trust you.
…
The worst part, Ford thought to himself as he brewed another pot of coffee and searched for a clean mug, was the uncertainty of it all. There was a grief in loss, of course, but not knowing could be so much worse.
Stanley could still be alive out there, among the creatures of the Nightmare Realm, all alone. He could be dying. He could be dead. He could be sitting on the other side, waiting, hoping Ford could open the portal and bring him home—
Ford slammed down the sole clean coffee cup he had left hard enough to startle himself, and then sighed.
He’d have to go clean up the remains of the portal, eventually. Before he fell asleep and Bill…
Ford poured out the coffee and leaned heavily against the counter as he took a sharp swig. It burned the whole way down.
What did he have left that Bill wanted? What reason did Bill have to keep him around if his research was beyond saving, if he couldn’t be threatened or tortured into complying anymore?
The next time he fell asleep…
Ford didn’t know what’d happen to him, and despite everything, damnit, Ford didn’t want to die. He couldn’t let Bill win, couldn’t become another footnote in the history of the world because he was just another one of the poor schmucks who fell for Bill Cipher’s lies.
Taking another gulp of liquid courage, Ford pulled his coat tight around himself and marched to the door of his lab before he could talk himself out of it.
Forget not sleeping in the lab. Ford couldn’t sleep at all until he found a way to sever Bill from his mind for good. Project Mentem had been a bust last he’d checked, but it was worth another shot. What else hadn’t he tried? There was something… a protection spell? A charm?
Ford contemplated his options all the way down the stairs, one hand keeping him steady on the wall while the other held his mug.
He still wasn’t sure exactly what he wanted yet, or what his next step was, but Ford could do this. He just had to secure his mind, like he’d planned, and then get rid of the blasted portal once and for all. Nothing had changed.
Nothing had changed. Nothing had changed. Nothing, nothing, except that Ford felt hollow where there must’ve once been something warm and vital in his chest. He didn’t know if he’d ever feel warm again. He didn’t deserve to.
Ford remembered a detail about sleep deprivation, as the elevator neared the basement level again and his heart dropped in time with the doors hissing open. Hallucinations were a common byproduct of the resulting sensory overload and exhaustion. They could take auditory or visual form, though visual hallucinations were a more common symptom by over 52%.
That was the only explanation he could conjure for the faint singing that echoed through the dark, cavernous sub-level before him.
“It’s not real,” Ford whispered to himself, hands a vice around the coffee mug. He felt cold. “Auditory hallucinations are an expected and well documented symptom to experience in conditions less dire than these. Focus on your intellect, Stanford. Focus, focus, it is not real.”
For a long stretch of time, seconds, or perhaps minutes, Fords feet were glued to the floor of the elevator. No matter how hard he tried, no matter what he said or did, the singing, or the static, remained steady and quiet.
It wouldn’t go away unless Ford made it.
Finally, Ford forced himself to creep into the basement, and then the control room to set his mug down on the desk. The music was louder now, more distinct here than it had been before. Had Ford left a radio on down here? Was that it?
Holding his breath, Ford crept around the trashed room, checking behind spare sheets of metal that had been propped up against the walls, kneeling to look under the control panels, and then behind them too. All the while, the music droned on, buzzing and humming and settling under his skin like an itch.
-any- wind blows—
It got louder as he neared the very back of the room, the words filtering through the humming static and becoming clear. Ford couldn’t deny it anymore. That was a voice. He shivered hard, jolting like ice had been pressed to the back of his neck, and hurried forward.
-really matter to me… To me.
There was a pile of debris, in the back of the control room, farthest from the door where he’d entered. Stanley must’ve crashed into it, when Ford and him had been… when he’d…
-just killed a man —a gun against his head…
Ford slowed his pace, staring down at the dented metal plates and machinery that had fallen loose in a heap on the floor, the stray wires and screws jutting out of the mess every which way. Slowly, Ford sank to his knees and pressed his aching palms onto the cool floor beneath him.
He could hear the singing now. Warbling, staticky. Familiar.
-Life had just begun, and now I’ve gone and thrown it all away.
Ford choked on his next inhale, thin and trembly as it was, and searched through the wreckage with wide eyes.
There. Nestled between a dented panel with half its screws undone, and a jumble of wires and smaller panels of sheet metal, was the source of the sound.
For a long, long moment, all Ford did was stare.
Oh mama… oh ohh oh. Didn’t mean to make you cry.
If I’m not back again this time tomorrow…
Ford’s hands trembled as he reached out, carefully prying the radio out of the scrap heap and holding it up in the dim light.
Carry on, carry on…
As if nothing really matters…
The voice faded out. Static.
Ford set the radio down on his lap, gently, as it would shatter into a million pieces otherwise, and pressed a trembling hand to his mouth.
“Stanley?” Ford choked out, and it was like trying to breathe glass. But he had to know, he had to, because— because…
He sat there, dully staring down at the radio Fiddleford had cobbled together months ago, when they’d still been in the implementations stage of the data and blueprints they’d collected, when the preliminary tests had begun. A device to send and collect waves and other information from beyond this dimension without actually opening a rift.
And here it was. In Fords hands, dented and scratched and still whole despite everything. Ford had turned his sights completely to the portal before the it’s completion, since Bill had deemed the entire endeavor a waste of time and energy and an ineffective outlet for his genius.
Fiddleford must’ve completed it, back when he was still just as enthralled in the project as Ford was. He missed his old friend, but Fiddleford was likely back home by now, in California to try and reconnect with his wife and child. As bitter as Ford was, he hoped Fiddleford was successful. His old friend deserved as much and more.
There was no reply to Ford’s question, except, Ford brought the radio to his ear and strained to listen through the faint static. Was that… humming?
Doo- doo doo, yeah, no poindexter, I‘m done, man. That’s the last song of the evening, I’m not paid for overtime.
Moses, wish I were getting paid for this.
Ford jumped, wincing at the sudden burst of noise loud enough to make his ears ring, then processed what Stanley, because that had to be Stanley, had said.
“Stanley! Where are you? Are you in the Nightmare Realm? You must be… what sort of method did you find to transmit your signal? Are you al—“
But Stanley continued speaking as though he hadn’t heard him. A thrill of irritation went through him. Was Stanley ignoring him? Was this some kind of petty revenge tactic?
When’d that song come out anyway? ‘75?
He hummed.
Sounds about right.
Ford shook the radio and bit back a growl, before he remembered that the technology in his hands was damaged and sorely in need of a repair and upgrade, and loosened his grip again. He set it down in his lap.
“Stanley, I need you to take this seriously, please, for once.”
Wow, that song was everywhere back then, wasn’t it? I remember thinkin’ Ford probably liked it when it came out, wherever he was. The nerd was probably in college.
“Stanley?” he tried again, but he wasn’t expecting a reply anymore. Stanley soldiered on, rambling about everything and nothing and Ford could almost hear the smile in his voice if it didn’t sound so tired.
Hell, where’d I first hear it? Must’ve been over at a gas station in… eh, Kansas? Somewhere over there, the big ol’ middle states.
We sure aren’t in Kansas anymore.
Ahh, those were the times. Me, the open sky, and so, so much dirt in my hair. Seriously, where did the dirt come from. I roll around in one haystack and suddenly i’m fishing filth out of my hair a month later.
Stanley went quiet again, before he laughed.
Aw man, I actually like this story. Buckle in folks, and I’m taking us back to that weirdly cold summer day in Kansas, where I had to steal 5 prized chickens. For some reason.
Look man, when someone pays you a hundred bucks and tells you he wants chickens, you don’t ask questions.
Anyways, I’d been-“
For the past few… well, it had to have been days since Stanley fell through the portal by this point, if Fords state was anything to go off of, Ford’s mind had been eerily blank. He’d been a hollowed out shell of his former self, a ghost in his home and life that held onto the living plane by only the barest threads and pure spite.
It was like a switch had flipped. Ford’s fingers drummed on the outside of the radio as he forced himself to his feet, mind whirling at a hundred miles per hour and making calculations and theories and discarding some and contemplating others, and he was nearly jittering as he walked out of the control room entirely. He’d need to find a way to secure this side of the portal from Bills influence, recollect his journals, and then, he was bringing his brother home.
He stopped just before he got into the elevator and turned around to stare down the wrecked portal that loomed overhead. The once perfect inverted triangle, now ruined and warped nearly beyond recognition.
He grinned in a way that was more just like baring his teeth.
“You may be a god, Cipher, and you may think you can control me, but never forget. I am a scientist.”
The portal stood dead as it had been, but Ford didn’t care. He whirled around and stalked into the elevator. He felt more awake than he had in days. And he had research to collect and a demon to banish.
Stanley was still talking, as the elevator began to shudder and rise, and Ford’s adrenaline shot began to ever-so-slightly wane. Something about… attack pigeons?
-And when I finally think I’m in the clear, I duck around one of the hay bales and come face to face with, and I’m not kidding here, a cow wearing heavy duty armor, like a helmet and shit the guy in ‘Nam would wear. It even had holes for the ears!
There was a strange sound then, and Ford realized with a start that it was coming from him. He was laughing. It wasn’t even than funny, really, but something about Stan delivery made Ford wheeze.
When was the last time he’d laughed? It must’ve been before this whole thing started, when he’d been with Fiddleford or B—
The laughter died in his throat. Oblivious to Fords inner turmoil, Stan kept on jabbering.
And there I was, 5 chickens smuggled into my coat and in my bag —and if you’ve never tried to carry 5 chickens, never do, it’s hard as hell and not worth it at all— staring down ol’ Bessie.
And then, because this fucking farm couldn’t get any weirder, the cow started moo-ing like it was setting off a tornado siren, and all the other cows in the whole place started mooing in sync too. It was fucking terrifying man.
They must’ve been calling the attack pigeons, because those suckers came back, and they started dive-bombing my sorry ass, and really, that was when I reached my limit.
I dove into the hay bale like a damn football player going for the end line, and even though it was by far the itchiest thing to ever happen to me, it saved me from death-by pecking so I’ll take take it.
The itchiest, of course, save for my stint in Albuquerque.
Ford could almost imagine Stan shaking his head as he paused again. With a start, he realized he was still smiling.
Just. Don’t try selling pillows in Albuquerque is all I’ll say.
Stan gave an audible shudder.
So many feathers… And itch powder. The itch powder didn’t help.
Ford couldn’t help the chuckle that slipped out of him at that.
Tags! (I’m sure I’m forgetting someone, pls tell me if you want to be on the list! Or just follow the tag that also works) @aroace-get-out-of-my-face @pleasantartisanhottea @littlelilliana15 @empressofsamoyeds @pinesfamilycatsau
Super Epic Secret Surprise! (Will link when posted)
5"5
me finding out my mutual is one inch taller than me
Hello, tumblr user. Before you is a tumblr post asking you to name a female fictional character. You have unlimited time to tag a female character, NOT a male one.
Begin.
Hello again i figured i would post some of my old stuff since i didn't have the confidence before so i hope you enjoy :D
Finished February 9, 2023
“BURN THE WITCH! BURN THE WITCH!”
Chanting, chanting is all you can hear when you enter the town. It’s fairly common nowadays to hear such words be uttered by so many people. It’s a shame, to hear it another time, however it's not your business, you’d rather stay away and not accidentally get yourself caught again. That time, it almost took you a whole two days for the magic to even get the wound to scab. Either way, the point is that Evelyn is missing.You have a feeling she’s here because two days earlier she had mentioned finding a place that sold mint leaves since you and her had run out.
The earlier chanting grows louder as you make your way to the centre of town after looking everywhere for Evelyn. Hundreds, if not thousands of women, men and children alike all gather around a podium in the centre of town. The podium had what looked to be a wooden beam with the silhouette of a person you can’t seem to make out, all tied up as a person on the right seemed to be making a speech. However you were unable to hear what exactly they were preaching about for the chanting had elevated to a nearly deafening sound.
“BURN THE WITCH! BURN THE WITCH! BURN THE WITCH!!!”
You, by some miracle, get past the other townspeople just enough to just make out the person, but by that time you were already too late as the fire had already started burning.
“EVELYN!!!!”
You’re running now, your hood has fallen' off as you’re trying desperately to get past the townspeople most not moving as they and you watch the fire creep closer to Evelyn.
“GET OUT OF MY WAY!!” “EVELYN!!!”
You finally manage to get past the people in front of you, them recognizing you seemed to have made them move, clearing a path for you to get to the podium. The chanting grows ever louder as you make your way up the stairs, pushing past the mayor and getting to Evelyn. You’re suddenly being pulled back further away from her as she’sburningshe’sburning SHE’S BURNING!! You don’t even care any more as you are struggling to get out of whoever is keeping you awayawayAWAY SHE NEEDS ME!!
BANG!
Everything goes silent, so silent even that you're not sure if the silence is only for you or if the world had gone quiet for that single moment. You’re let go, somehow, but you don’t care as you run as her smoldering body falls, you catch her; she’s still hot to the touch but you can’t seem to feel a thing as she lays there, in your arms. She almost looks peaceful if not for her being so chard you almost can’t recognize her. Someone is speaking to you but all you can care to even think about is her body, she’sdeadshe’sdead SHE’S DEAD!
“Hey! It’s alright it’s dead, the wicked witch is dead! She can’t hurt you anymore like she did to us!”
You stop in your tracks for a moment,
she can’t hurt me anymore like she did to them?
Evelyn? the girl who took you in when you were on your last legs. Evelyn, the woman who would make flower crowns out of burning blossoms for you and her on summer days. Evelyn, who wouldn’t even hurt a fly when it was in the house being a nuisance, and instead held it with a wood carved cup and paper underneath to let back outside? EVELYN who would give the worst criminals a chance. THAT EVELYN!?!
The thought of her, losing her, especially in this way, makes you thirst for something more.
Something deadly
For them to not only disrespect her as a person and not view her as a person is despicable in its own right. But to take her out of this world!! You feel something equally worse than rage, something that screamed murder, that screamed blood, and to hurt hurt HURT!
Next thing that happens the person behind you starts screaming and coughing up blood. So much blood the pool reaches to your kneeling body. The mayors - you figure from the screams- “bodyguards” become worried, one of them asking behind you,
“What did you do, WHAT DID YOU FUCKING DO!!”
“oh?”
You ask while lowering the body (Evelyn's body, she’s dead SHE’S DEAD), turning around to face the “guards”, cocking your head, face already morphed into an almost doll-like smile nearly able to hide your burning rage.
“What did I do?”
“Well you see, what I did there is what you will all experience when I'm done with you”
The crowd begins to whisper words and share worried glances at each other waiting anxiously for someone, anyone to be brave enough to ask the question they’re all thinking.
“What is it?”
The only other “guard” who isn’t coddling the mayor is the only person to ask the question. Silence stretches for what felt like hours but was more likely minutes just waiting for you to answer their question. Fearful of what you might say. You wait to answer even debating on whether or not to even answer their question. You make your decision after what was really minutes.
You turn to the guard, and you answer.
“Death”
The crowd gasps clearly distraught by the answer, however most too scared to speak some foolish ones screamed profanities however those to soon die down to nothing. The guards stand guard around their ruler in fear of what else you might possibly do to their mayor. It was almost cute if not for the anger you still feel. You turn to the crowd still not finished with your speech.
“AND YOU ALL HAVE 24 HOURS TO EVACUATE THIS PLACE BEFORE I BURN THIS PLACE JUST AS YOU HAD DONE TO MY BELOVED, MY WORLD!!” You nearly scream this out loud, your voice cracking ever so slightly. You feel your voice might rip open and stop making sound.
“AND EVEN WHEN YOU ALL THINK YOU SAFE I WILL COME FOR EACH ONE OF YOU AND KILL YOU AND YOUR LOVED ONES!” you feel anger swelling up inside you, you almost can't breathe. You try taking a mental breath but the images of her still burn brightly in your mind you give up.
“TAKE THIS AS A LESSON TO NEVER AND I MEAN NEVER TRIFLE WITH THE MOTHER OF STARS! SERVANT OF DEATH AGAIN!!” you feel as though your body is shaking immensely as you pour your soul out helplessly hoping someone will listen.
But no one ever listens
You turn back to the mayor, no longer the doll-like face before now a void with hundreds of thousands eyes nearly covering your face staring. back. at. him.
“This is not the end, but the beginning of your end.”
And as if she was never there the ‘witch’ vanishes leaving the town with dread for the inevitable.
Most don't leave that day, most not believing what she said. And with their decision they never leave again, the town seemingly still burning to this day. However those who did leave and did listen, those people lived in constant fear that one day she may come back and take their lives once more…..
And for Evelyn's body, may she rest under the burning blossom tree. Forever to burn elegantly.
[ID: Drawings from darklordofawesomeness' cat Stan au, this time featuring wolf Ford.
In the first, cat Stan is standing on wolf Ford's back. Some helpful text points to them, reading "Same coat color, same eye color, same expression, NOT related".
In the second, cat Stan is sitting on wolf Ford's shoulders, and saying "Wolfy, I'm gonna teach ya how to commit FRAUD." Ford looks nervous.
In the third, there are assorted wolf Fords and cat Stans: Stan curled up on Ford's shoulders; Ford and Stan posing cutely and reluctantly; Stan and Ford sitting in front of an open book. Stan says "If I didn't need this to turn human, I would just laugh at your suffering." Ford says "noted."
The fourth is a two panel comic where Stan teaches Ford to look less like a wolf and more like a dog. Ford is standing like a wolf; head in line with shoulders and tail down. Stan says "Yeah if you wanna fool anyone you need to change your body language", then "Lift your head and tail. Smile. Put your ears forward." Ford, following his instructions, looks significantly more like a dog at a glance. He is smiling, but his eyes are narrowed, and he says "I hate you." Stan says "Better! Now just stop scowling at me."
In the fifth, human Stan drives an extremely sketchy and loosely colored Stanleymobile. Wolf Ford is standing on the door and sticking his head out the window. Stan looks annoyed.
The sixth is nearly identical to the fifth, with the addition of Carla, Fiddleford, and Emma-May in the backseat. They, along with Stan, are dressed like Scooby Doo characters. End ID.]
More cat stans from @dark-lord-of-awesomeness's cat stan series! These are mostly from Double Cursed, except for the last two, which are ostensibly from chapter 52 (How to dognap a man?) of Cat Stan Extras. Except the last one is because i made up scooby doo vibes in my head and i wanted to do something with that. Basically, this is The Post Where Ford is a Wolf.
the comic is because way back when, i saw that one post about how to draw wolves to look more like wolves, and i thought it would be fun to use wolf ford as my guinea pig to test out some of the differences. Since ford is a human person capable of changing his body language! idk if it would fool someone in real life but in image form i do think it works, the second one reads way more doglike.
hey whats up guys @castielrisingabove's tags on this post absolutely obliterated me. so i drew them and now they get to obliterate you too. enjoy