Okay, alright, listen!
I know you're all busy thirsting over Stan right now, which is understandable... BUT
...no, i'm running out of excuses.
DRAW ME LIKE ONE OF YOUR ANOMALIES, STRANGE OLD MAN!!
would you put a discarded fruit sticker on my forehead in whimsical jest yes or no
i kind of want to make stickers or keychains
Head canon: Stan and Ford have bunk beds, like on the ship as well as in the shack.
When they come back from sailing at sea for almost a year, they've gotten used to their sleeping arrangements; it reminds them a lot of when they were kids. It's comforting to know their brother is just above/below them.
So when they come back for the summer and they are in different rooms, it doesn't bother them at first; they actually think it's good not to listen to 'Stan's snoring' or 'Ford's scribbling' for once... but after they get everything set up and it's time for bed, neither of them can sleep; they just stare blankly at the ceiling.
At first both of them don't know why; they both toss and turn. Ford starts reading to see if that could tire him out, but it doesn't work. Stan starts counting smuggled pugs over the border; that doesn't work either...
"What if he has a nightmare?" Stan thinks to himself.
"Is Stanley having a hard time sleeping too?"
"What if he needs me?" They both think in unison.
Ford gets out of bed right away and grabs his pillow to go to Stan's room.
Stans was a bit hesitant at first till he heard a knock on his door, so he opened it, and it was Ford standing there like a kid who had just come to pester his parents after a bad dream.
"Having trouble sleeping too, eh, Sixer?"
"Yeah, I can't get to sleep. Is... is it ok if I sleep with you tonight, Stanley?"
Stan has a big dopey smile on his face. "No problem at all, Pointdexter."
For the rest of that night, Stan and Ford sleep peacefully, hugging each other (platonically!).
The next day Ford buys a bunk bed for the shack and builds it with his brother.
so embarrassing when i forget im checking someone's blog and i start scrolling through and liking and reblogging shit as if it's just my dash. it feels like wandering into someone else's apartment and not noticing and making myself lunch
have you noticed that they don't even want you right clicking anymore