Pronouns: she/her. All feminine terms when referring to me please :3
OCs: Elizabeth Cortland - Ford Pines' love interest (@ask-elizabeth-cortland); Joy - Stan’s adopted daughter (@joy-the-hissy-one)
Reverse Falls RP Blog: @pines-traveling-troupe
Almost, Maine Ask Blog: @almost-maine-po-box
Romeo and Juliet RP blog: @countys-cousin
TADC RP blog: @fluffy-the-circus-cat
I take writing requests!
Please use tone indicators with me. tone over text is hard to decipher. If it's not clear whether or not you're mad at me, I will start panicking.
I don't have a DNI, but I do expect you to behave properly. This means no bigotry and please don't interact with me in a non-platonic manner. Please keep everything you put on my blog (asks, reblogs, replies, etc.) PG-13 or more innocent in terms of sexual content (swearing ok, appropriately tagged violence/angst ok), and place trigger warnings where appropriate. If I don't want you on my blog, I will block you. However, most of the time, if I block someone, it's because either they're a bot or they post things I don't wanna see, mostly just fandoms I'm not in, so if I block you, don't take it personally because I don't dislike you as a person, I'm just not interested in what's on your blog. I am learning to be more comfortable with blocking people.
Sometimes I post things that I'm a little bit scared to post. I'm also learning not to be as nervous to post certain things. Please be kind to me as long as what I post isn't genuinely offensive (i wont know so just politely say “hey! x is a problem bc y” and i’ll try to fix it)
Please interact with me! A decent amount of my posts are attempts to solicit social interaction. As awkward as I am, I do love talking to people, especially about my interests and projects i'm working on, so if you have any questions, drop an ask in my inbox! I'll get so excited.
Please don't send donation asks or tag me in donation posts. I can't donate, nor can I differentiate between real requests for help and bots. If I get tagged in a post, it seems to have the same effect as reblog bait on my OCD and I don't want to trigger anyone else's. I also don't think I have moots that can donate. So.
Please don’t DM me if you don’t know me in real life. Don’t hesitate to interact but I would like to keep things public.
I can and will role play from here even though it’s my main blog.
Please don’t tag me in reblog bait or “reblog to help”. It’s bad for people who have moral OCD. I will ignore them. I can’t do anything.
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Ppl send topics and instead of salt or hot takes, you MUST talk abt smth you like about it. Good excuse to gush abt smth you already love, OR think and find smth positive to say.
Hard mode, “missed potential” is NOT allowed as an answer.
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oh my god I just saw the cutest thing in the world. little Black girl with beads in her hair for the first day of school and the beads were pink then silver then a bunch of yellow then beige then grey to make them look like pencils 🥺🥺🥺 brb I will draw an artist’s rendition
He was as tall as he was tall, and his eyes were the color they were. To describe his hair one would say that he had some. His face had all the features you'd expect, and none of the ones you wouldn't. "There he is," people would often say of him, but only when he was there. And they were right.
This sounds like a wtnv quote. I can hear this in cecil baldwins voice in the same tone he opens every episode with, followed by “welcome to night vale”
non-writers will never understand the mental illness of writing an entire conversation in your head while doing dishes and then forgetting every word the second you open a blank doc
whumpee misunderstanding what are supposed to be comforting words.
"you're too weak to fight." (implied "in your state" but taken as "you're not good enough")
"it's not surprising that you'd react like this" (intended "anyone in your position would be devastated by this" but taken as "you're so predictably sensitive")
"you need to stay here. you're just going to slow the team down." (meant as "you're too ill/injured to come on this mission" but taken as "you're a burden")
i just like a caretaker with good intentions upsetting whumpee more and either feeling guilty about their phrasing or not knowing what they said wrong at all.
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SUMMARY: About a month after Ford falls into the portal, Joy and Stan are settling into a routine and establishing a long-term life for themselves in Gravity Falls. Stan is reluctant to enroll Joy in school right then - she's not doing too well physically or mentally, and it's the middle of the year anyway - but she's not in such rough shape that she can't handle a job... usually...
She feels good. That's what she tells herself. She's working. She's helping, and she likes what she's doing, and she likes the person she's helping. She likes her job. She's getting better at pretending to be friendly for customers, and she knows where the merchandise goes. She helps make a lot of the exhibits. She likes the feeling of fur and the way the paint slowly covers an object. She likes the praise Stan gives her.
She's cold. She's always cold. Her throat is itching. That doesn't normally happen. Something's wrong. She doesn't quite know what, but something's wrong. Something bad is going to happen. She doesn't know what or when, but something bad is coming. She clings to Stan. Follows him around until she thinks it might look odd. And then she goes back to the cash register because she can't pretend to be observing for better reference of what to do, or helping him with something anymore.
It hurts to ring customers up. Her arms don't want to pick up the merchandise or the cash. Her legs don't want to support her. Her eyes don't want to stay open. She puts on a friendly face and rings people up and makes small talk. Her throat burns.
"Excuse me," someone practically snaps, jolting her back to the real world that she didn't remember leaving. "Sleeping on the job? With your boss right there? While customers are waiting?" Joy blinks. Everything feels wrong.
Stan is leading a tour group back to the gift shop.
She forces herself to straighten and make eye contact.
"Sorry about that. I don't know what that was." The woman glares at her. Joy rings her up without another word. She can sense Stan approaching. She tries not to flinch as she finishes ringing the woman up. The woman takes her things and leaves, stopping to say something to Stan along the lines of, "You should really fire her and hire someone who's not as lazy." Stan pointedly ignores her and comes up behind the counter.
"It's almost closing time," he says quietly. "You're not looking too good. No one's waiting in line. Why don't you slip out now? I'll take it from here and check on you once I close up."
"I'm fine," she rasps. When did her throat get so dry?
A giant yellow bird is trying to remember someone's grocery order on the TV. Joy is curled up in front of the arm chair. Her eyes are glassy, unfocused. Stan sits next to her.
"What's this?" he asks. She doesn't answer, just slumps sideways into him. "That Muppet show you like?" He wraps his arm around her. She's warmer than usual. He cranes his wrist to brush her stringy hair out of her eyes and rest his hand against her forehead. "Guessin' you don't wanna sit on the floor." She presses her head closer into his hand. "You're not feelin' too good, are you?"
"What makes you say that?"
"You haven't done this since I first met you. You're never this cuddly. And you're burning up."
"Huh," she says apathetically.
"Mind if I get you off this floor?" he asks. She doesn't answer. He peels her off the floor and sets her down in the arm chair. She scrunches up until she's impossibly small. "I'll be right back. Just gonna get you some stuff."
She's wrapped up in a comforter but she's not in bed. She can't be. There's no room to stretch out. Sesame Street is just coming to an end.
"Hey." A familiar voice comes from a few feet away. "I was just coming to check on you. You awake?"
"Mmhm." She doesn't know if she's telling the truth. Everything hurts. She's so cold.
"You want me to make you something to eat?" She hesitates. Curls up under the blankets. Stan sighs. She tenses up. "Just some plain toast?" She intends to answer, but her brain stops working. "I'm gonna make you some toast." And then he leaves her alone.
She stares at the TV, not really watching, until he comes back with a glass of water and a plate containing a dry, crunchy, warm piece of bread. He hands the water to her first. She gulps it down. Every swallow hurts and she can't stop herself. He takes it away before she can make herself sick.
"Slow down, kiddo. You'll just end up throwing that back up. Easy." He sets the glass and plate down on the dinosaur skull.
They sit in silence for a few seconds. Joy picks up the plate and starts slowly nibbling on the corner of her toast. Stan watches. She only manages to get a few bites down.
"Not hungry, huh? That's fine. I never liked eating when I got sick as a kid either."
"'m not a kid," she protests around a cough.
Stan grimaces at the sound and ignores the comment in favor of checking her temperature again.
"What?"
"Your fever's getting worse. Either that or my hands are getting cold, but I've been inside, so I don't think that's the case. I don't like the sound of that cough either."
The rest of the night is a bit of a blur. At some point, she's in pajamas. That's a weird feeling, having clothes specifically for sleeping, but Stan bought them as soon as the Murder Hut started bringing in a steady flow of cash. She ends up back in the arm chair and loath to go upstairs for bed. Stan doesn't even mention it. He just crams into the chair next to her and lets her snuggle into him.
..................................................................................................................................I might continue this but I need to go to sleep now.
whumpee misunderstanding what are supposed to be comforting words.
"you're too weak to fight." (implied "in your state" but taken as "you're not good enough")
"it's not surprising that you'd react like this" (intended "anyone in your position would be devastated by this" but taken as "you're so predictably sensitive")
"you need to stay here. you're just going to slow the team down." (meant as "you're too ill/injured to come on this mission" but taken as "you're a burden")
i just like a caretaker with good intentions upsetting whumpee more and either feeling guilty about their phrasing or not knowing what they said wrong at all.
SUMMARY: About a month after Ford falls into the portal, Joy and Stan are settling into a routine and establishing a long-term life for themselves in Gravity Falls. Stan is reluctant to enroll Joy in school right then - she's not doing too well physically or mentally, and it's the middle of the year anyway - but she's not in such rough shape that she can't handle a job... usually...
She feels good. That's what she tells herself. She's working. She's helping, and she likes what she's doing, and she likes the person she's helping. She likes her job. She's getting better at pretending to be friendly for customers, and she knows where the merchandise goes. She helps make a lot of the exhibits. She likes the feeling of fur and the way the paint slowly covers an object. She likes the praise Stan gives her.
She's cold. She's always cold. Her throat is itching. That doesn't normally happen. Something's wrong. She doesn't quite know what, but something's wrong. Something bad is going to happen. She doesn't know what or when, but something bad is coming. She clings to Stan. Follows him around until she thinks it might look odd. And then she goes back to the cash register because she can't pretend to be observing for better reference of what to do, or helping him with something anymore.
It hurts to ring customers up. Her arms don't want to pick up the merchandise or the cash. Her legs don't want to support her. Her eyes don't want to stay open. She puts on a friendly face and rings people up and makes small talk. Her throat burns.
"Excuse me," someone practically snaps, jolting her back to the real world that she didn't remember leaving. "Sleeping on the job? With your boss right there? While customers are waiting?" Joy blinks. Everything feels wrong.
Stan is leading a tour group back to the gift shop.
She forces herself to straighten and make eye contact.
"Sorry about that. I don't know what that was." The woman glares at her. Joy rings her up without another word. She can sense Stan approaching. She tries not to flinch as she finishes ringing the woman up. The woman takes her things and leaves, stopping to say something to Stan along the lines of, "You should really fire her and hire someone who's not as lazy." Stan pointedly ignores her and comes up behind the counter.
"It's almost closing time," he says quietly. "You're not looking too good. No one's waiting in line. Why don't you slip out now? I'll take it from here and check on you once I close up."
"I'm fine," she rasps. When did her throat get so dry?
A giant yellow bird is trying to remember someone's grocery order on the TV. Joy is curled up in front of the arm chair. Her eyes are glassy, unfocused. Stan sits next to her.
"What's this?" he asks. She doesn't answer, just slumps sideways into him. "That Muppet show you like?" He wraps his arm around her. She's warmer than usual. He cranes his wrist to brush her stringy hair out of her eyes and rest his hand against her forehead. "Guessin' you don't wanna sit on the floor." She presses her head closer into his hand. "You're not feelin' too good, are you?"
"What makes you say that?"
"You haven't done this since I first met you. You're never this cuddly. And you're burning up."
"Huh," she says apathetically.
"Mind if I get you off this floor?" he asks. She doesn't answer. He peels her off the floor and sets her down in the arm chair. She scrunches up until she's impossibly small. "I'll be right back. Just gonna get you some stuff."
She's wrapped up in a comforter but she's not in bed. She can't be. There's no room to stretch out. Sesame Street is just coming to an end.
"Hey." A familiar voice comes from a few feet away. "I was just coming to check on you. You awake?"
"Mmhm." She doesn't know if she's telling the truth. Everything hurts. She's so cold.
"You want me to make you something to eat?" She hesitates. Curls up under the blankets. Stan sighs. She tenses up. "Just some plain toast?" She intends to answer, but her brain stops working. "I'm gonna make you some toast." And then he leaves her alone.
She stares at the TV, not really watching, until he comes back with a glass of water and a plate containing a dry, crunchy, warm piece of bread. He hands the water to her first. She gulps it down. Every swallow hurts and she can't stop herself. He takes it away before she can make herself sick.
"Slow down, kiddo. You'll just end up throwing that back up. Easy." He sets the glass and plate down on the dinosaur skull.
They sit in silence for a few seconds. Joy picks up the plate and starts slowly nibbling on the corner of her toast. Stan watches. She only manages to get a few bites down.
"Not hungry, huh? That's fine. I never liked eating when I got sick as a kid either."
"'m not a kid," she protests around a cough.
Stan grimaces at the sound and ignores the comment in favor of checking her temperature again.
"What?"
"Your fever's getting worse. Either that or my hands are getting cold, but I've been inside, so I don't think that's the case. I don't like the sound of that cough either."
The rest of the night is a bit of a blur. At some point, she's in pajamas. That's a weird feeling, having clothes specifically for sleeping, but Stan bought them as soon as the Murder Hut started bringing in a steady flow of cash. She ends up back in the arm chair and loath to go upstairs for bed. Stan doesn't even mention it. He just crams into the chair next to her and lets her snuggle into him.
..................................................................................................................................I might continue this but I need to go to sleep now.
Too many ideas. What kind of back alley custody sickfic do you want to read? be as detailed as possible please
tbh i would read anything but. i would love to see Stan's reaction and more insights into their relationship. maybe post portal angst. stan dealing with losing his brother then... dealing with a child? how is he supposed to do this? quick, what did his mom do when he and ford were sick? uhh...
probably something common but .l. like the flu or some shit. joy trties to tough through it but she isn't good at pretending when her energy is down (almosty froze to death, evil uncle (her pov) disappears into an interdimensional portal, and now is sick) damn she cant catch a break.
sorry this is quick, theres typos and its badly explained.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Too many ideas. What kind of back alley custody sickfic do you want to read? be as detailed as possible please
tbh i would read anything but. i would love to see Stan's reaction and more insights into their relationship. maybe post portal angst. stan dealing with losing his brother then... dealing with a child? how is he supposed to do this? quick, what did his mom do when he and ford were sick? uhh...
probably something common but .l. like the flu or some shit. joy trties to tough through it but she isn't good at pretending when her energy is down (almosty froze to death, evil uncle (her pov) disappears into an interdimensional portal, and now is sick) damn she cant catch a break.
sorry this is quick, theres typos and its badly explained.
Too many ideas. What kind of back alley custody sickfic do you want to read? be as detailed as possible please
tbh i would read anything but. i would love to see Stan's reaction and more insights into their relationship. maybe post portal angst. stan dealing with losing his brother then... dealing with a child? how is he supposed to do this? quick, what did his mom do when he and ford were sick? uhh...
probably something common but .l. like the flu or some shit. joy trties to tough through it but she isn't good at pretending when her energy is down (almosty froze to death, evil uncle (her pov) disappears into an interdimensional portal, and now is sick) damn she cant catch a break.
sorry this is quick, theres typos and its badly explained.
