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A new offering to the fanfic gods! A fanart for the brilliant All of These Things, All of the Time by the incredible @lessons-from-moths ! A true delight to read and suffer over. Poor Stan goes through it and I wanna hug him and make it stop but I also crave more with every tear he sheds. Without further ado, I present to you: The Many Names of Stanley Pines

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Have started on new art for Stan Exterminator AU (maybe?) so it shall arrive either in a couple of days or 2 months later. But I have a few versions of it in my head:

1. Classic evil version (bad news for teen Stans) - sad ending

2. Horrifically fucked-up version (in my humble opinion at least) - sadder ending

3. Not so bad version (in comparison with the previous ones) - possibility of a good ending

3.5. The not so bad one but it becomes comedic (infinitely less tragic) - good ending?

Naturally, I’m inspired to make art for the horrifically fucked-up one

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Yay, two arts in two days (conveniently forgets that I started both ages ago)! Inspired by ‘What's an ersatz phantom limb, anyway?’ by curiousCanine. It’s a wonderful little fic that sits snuggly in my chest like a fluffy warm kitten. There’s a sadness to it, but it always makes me smile.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/64298131

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After talking to Stan on the swings Ford walks straight home and, for once in his life, voluntarily goes to bed early. Tomorrow is the most important day of his life and he must be well rested in order to impress West Coast Tech representatives. In his dreams he’s so excited to accept a Nobel Prize and Guinness World Record Award for most PhD simultaneously, Ford sleeps through his alarm clock and has to rush around the house in a blind panic but he makes to the gym on time, looking perfectly presentable in his best shirt and his favourite bow tie. He channels every piece of advice Stan has given him on talking to people and showmanship and the judges are so impressed they actually applaud his presentation! Oh, Tesla, it isn’t just the most important day of his life, it’s the best day of Ford’s life too!

I can’t wait to tell Stan and celebrate!

Ford almost skips all the way home, his cheeks pink with excitement and an envelope from WCT people cradled against his chest. He practically flies up the stairs and skids to a stop in front of the couch. An empty couch. Huh. Stan must be in their room, reading comics! But his bed is empty too, he’s not in the bathroom, or the kitchen, or the pawnshop. And as his Ma smothers him in a hug, and covers his squirming face in red kisses, and my little genius and I’m so proud and I knew you’d knock ’em dead, baby, she tells him that Stan never came home last night, must be with his girlfriend, oh young love, I remember what it was like…

Except Carla left him for that hippie a few months ago, so that can’t be it, but they were talking on the beach last night, Stan must have gone to work on the Stan’O’War, and just fell asleep there. Yes, he’d spent the night on the boat before, that’s not so unusual, there’s nothing to worry about! But as Ford runs to the beach his giddy smile slips from his face. There’s the Stanleymobile, right where they left her yesterday.

"Stanley?", I hope he didn’t sleep in the car, don’t want him to get back pain before he’s sixty. But the car is empty and his jacket is still in the back seat. With a worried frown Ford turns and runs to the boat. "Stan!"

With every call into an empty place where Stan should be, but isn’t, Ford’s heart beats faster and his voice grows more frantic. But there is no answer from the little boat or the pier, or waves.

He must be waiting for me on the swings! Oh, I should’ve gone straight there… But that’s great! We’ll celebrate and then talk about the future, see what Stan wants to do after we gradu…

Ford stops, as if all the blood froze in his veins. The fresh salty air grows heavy and the crushing of the waves is replaces by the buzzing in his ears, as the scene in front of him goes blurry.

Stan?

The sand by swings is disturbed as if from a fight. The right seat is broken, its two halves shifting slightly in the breeze. There’s splotches of something dark on the worn splintered wood. Ford finally finds his voice:

"Stan!"

There’s no Stan.

"STANLEY!!!"

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Why not, I already worship dice gods

This is Money Snake. She only appears every 312 years. 

If you reblog her picture within the next twenty-five seconds you will have good luck and fortune for the rest of your life. 

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Reblogging this after an hour long argument with my dad about AI.

Two stunning winners ✨️

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Me going to ao3 with a thirst for angst

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When you get to the very juicy cliffhanger and hit next chapter, but

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Rewatched Once Upon a Time and got this idea for a Gravity Falls AU:

Stanford Pines had spent wonderful five years in Gravity Falls, exploring the woods and cataloguing every delightful oddity this place had to offer. Yet he was no closer to figuring out the reason behind these anomalies and the Grand Unified Theory of Weirdness remained incomplete. He was waiting for his turn at the fairy nail salon and already mentally planning a trip to the cave system in the mountains to see if he could find any clues left behind by the original inhabitants of the valley when he heard a group of gnomes chatting about it. The Seeker’s Guide. A magic book supposedly created by the same being that was responsible for the Mailbox. According to the gnomes, this mysterious tome knew what its reader either sought, desired, loved, or needed most in the world (the stories weren’t very clear on the details and but it didn’t matter because scientific discoveries fit every version) and becomes a guide to it. That was the answer to all his problems! With a solid lead, newly reignited determination, and freshly manicured nails Stanford set out of the salon and towards becoming the greatest scientist in history!

After months of intense and immensely satisfying research Stanford finally did it! He found the book! The case it was in unlocked itself at his touch and he was greeted with an absolutely massive ancient-looking tome bound in reddish leather with gold details. It reminded him of his own journals. Surely it was a sign that the Guide already bonded to him! He only just barely managed to wait until he got home to open it, but Stanford knew how important it was to conduct this experiment in a proper environment and document his discoveries. Alas, when he finally started to read his first reaction was disappointment.

Inside, the book took the form of an illustrated storybook. And the very first picture on the very first page didn’t show him an unnatural phenomenon that caused Gravity Falls to be the way it was, or a location of the epicentre of weirdness, or any anomaly. Well, he supposed it did show him an anomaly but the one that could help him in any way. It was a picture of him - of him and Stanley - of them. Two babies in their crib under a colourful mobile, one screaming, red-faced, the other reaching up curiously with a six-fingered hand. The first verses described their births and return home from the hospital. The next pages continued to describe his life as a baby. What did that mean?! Was the book implying that Stanford only cared about himself?! That he was self-centred, selfish?! That was patently not true! How dare—

Well, time to take a breath and calm down. There was no need to jump to conclusions. That couldn’t be it. No, surely it meant something else. Perhaps that Stanford himself was the key to discovering the ultimate truth! Yes! That was it! Looking back on his life’s story told in this format would surely lead him to the answers he sought. Naturally, he immediately went to the end of the book. Nothing. Huh. The last few pages, probably just over a dozen, were blank, not a word, not a picture marred their yellowed surface. Oh, well, might as well go over it from the start.

At first, Stanford just skimmed through the pages, his childhood was unlikely to be very important for his goal, though it did bring up the warmth at memories of exploring the beach with his twin. The book itself didn’t spend much their childhood escapades, a single page covering months of his life at a time, but it seemed to slow down the older he got. The rhythm of it was easy to predict, almost intuitive. The pages dedicated to their teenage years were a lot more detailed and brought much less pleasant memories with them. (He couldn’t bear to relieve the science fair. He skipped the two years before he left home altogether. Later. He had all the time in the world to read through and analyse every page.)

Stanford skipped all the way to when he was already supposed to be already in Backupsmore. The moment when he met Fiddleford and together they proved that the universe is a hologram was one of the happiest times in his life despite all the bad surrounding it. He wouldn’t mind reliving that. Except when Stanford got to what he was pretty sure was the right page he didn’t see himself in his short shorts celebrating the incredible scientific breakthrough. Instead he saw an illustration of Stanley lying in the backseat of his Diablo, curled up under a torn-up stained jacket, his jaw and left eye purple and swollen, with running from his broken nose and pooling under cheek alongside a small puddle of tears. He was looking at something in his had, a slip of paper, but the drawing wasn’t detailed enough to tell what it was…

What?

Wait…

No…

What?!

Frantically, Ford flipped the pages, going back and forth, catching glimpses of his brother’s life.

Stanley making a stupid commercial about a shoddy product.

Stanley getting stabbed in a dark alley.

Stanley sitting on the floor outside the principal’s office.

Stanley standing in a phone booth having just hung up.

Stanley chewing his way out of the trunk of a car.

Stanley holding back tears after their father slapped him.

Stanley kneeling in front of a biker.

Stanley working on the Stan’O’War alone when Ford was too busy again.

Stanley pulling his shirt off in a room full of scary looking men.

Stanley standing outside the pawnshop with a sign saying “Extra Stan”.

Stanley playing Russian roulette in a messy motel room.

Stanford couldn’t read any more. His glasses were still on but his vision was blurry. He was shaking and couldn’t take a breath properly. This wasn’t right. That couldn’t be right! That couldn’t be Stanley’s life!

That was Stanley’s life. The book was Stanley’s life…

Ford didn’t know how much time had passed before gained control of himself. Far too much. Far too much altogether. How long had it been? Almost a decade… Almost a decade of being mad because of a stupid science fair. Almost a decade of doing the things he loves. Almost a decade of missing Stanley. Almost a decade of convincing himself that Stan was fine, that Stan didn’t care about him. Almost a decade of being wrong.

Stanford had been so so wrong. He lost so much time. Stanley lost so much in that time. But no longer. He could fix it. He would find Stanley and they would fix it together. Together they could do anything, they still had their whole lives ahead of them. They still had time.

They still had time…

Ford flipped through the latest pages. He’d find a clue to Stan’s whereabouts.

They still had…

Another page had filled since looked at the back of the book. He remembered seeing text there, but now it’s another picture. It didn’t look good.

But they still…

The rate the pages were filling up was slowest at the very end. Every day was recounted. That was good, more details to help track Stan down.

They still…

Stanford counted the blank pages with shaking hands.

12 pages left.

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Ford is “would sacrifice the world to save you but won’t admit it until it’s too late and spend a lot of time being at you for acting just like I would”

Can’t stop thinking about how Stan is “would sacrafice the world to save you” and Ford is “would sacrafice you to save the world”. They make me ill

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Yesterday I binge read everything with the Martian Stan AU tag and before actually seeing the official Polly Definitely-the-Parrot-Don’t-Argue-with-me-I’m-the-President art, I had an idea of what she could look like so I had to draw it. I thought, what would I, a coddled European urban dweller, consider to be the equivalent of the Nightmare Realm, a vast, distant, barren place filled with incomprehensible horrors? Australia, of course! So I took the official Polly palette and combined some of its most famous creatures into this wonderful abomination.

So, @aroace-get-out-of-my-face and @inkyrainstorms are to blame for this. Could it be another resident of planet Stan, Polly’s more aggressive (and rude) form, or a vivid dream Stan had after eating a wrong kind of space potatoe? Up to you to decide!

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My latest D&D character for an upcoming campaign, a reborn paladin of devotion. Lady Gwen Ithfaen is a statue of a long forgotten hero brought to life by the divine magic of Selûne to protect and guide those lost in the night.

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Upon the last day of late Stanuary works I’m posting this sketch because for some reason it’s resisting my attempts to draw it the style of my other stuff, but I wanted to get it out there anyway. I’ll probably end up finishing it sometime this spring, when I don’t have to focus on Forduary (that’s also giving me trouble) and art for like 4 new D&D characters.

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Real TARDIS behavior here

Sentient Mystery Shack, who is really biased towards Stan, so when Ford tells Stan he has to give it back after the summer it’s on sight.

Ford keeps tripping over nothing, nothing is where it's supposed to be and somehow he keeps running into closets when he tries to go outside.

But the worst part, the WORST part is that Ford's lightbulb just won't. Work. No matter what he does it keeps flickering and exploding.

Ford is spiraling. 

There is no reason why it shoudln’t work. All his trial runs work perfectly. He’s already checked the Shacks wiring three times and relearned this dimensions science from the ground up. 

Nothing works.

The Rift? Bill? The impending apocalypse? Eating? Sleep? Who cares about that. 

WHY. WONT. THE. LIGHTBULB. WORK???

It doesn’t help that Stan keeps laughing at him.

“Then you do it!” Ford eventually snaps at Stan.

Stan shrugs and with a little song under his breath screws his own lightbulb it. It works perfectly.

Stanford screams.

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Late post for Stanuary because January’s been kicking my ass, and this work in particular was hard to bring to life, even though I knew from the start what I wanted to draw. This one is a bit bloody and disturbing (hopefully!).

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This just sounds like what Ford would say pre-guilty phase.

I saw someone on Twitter saying that Stan didn't deserved to be kicked out by his father but he was the catalyst that caused this situation in his life own life, since he is too impulsive and literally because of that he always ends up ruining things. What do you think?

That's still victim blaming. They should have stopped at "Stan didn't deserve to be kicked out".

He didn't "cause" his father to kick him out. No child "causes" their parents to kick them out.

Stan may be impulsive, but that literally doesn't matter. Nothing justifies kicking out your underage kid.

(Also, he "always ends up ruining things"...? What is this person on. Stan made mistakes, like all humans do. That doesn't mean he "always ends up ruining things".)

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100% agree on Curly Stan! You can try to pry curly fluffy haired Stan from my alive but still very cold hands but you’ll fail. I’ll keep him forever

But of course it looks straight and flat, that man never learned a thing about hair care and curl maintenance! First he was a baby and mum took care of it, then he was a teenager and had a buzz cut, then he was homeless and clean hair was a freaking luxury, and then he spent 30 years depressed and single-mindedly focused on fixing the portal!

Further headcanon: Mabel takes a look at every other person in her family being fluffy and then at Stan and sets on a mission to bring his hair to its natural majestic state. By the time the brothers are ready to leave on their expedition Stan has written instructions from Mabel and a whole box full of hair products and is as fluffy as he was always meant to be. She checks on his hair every time they video chat.

And my unpopular opinion: mullets are an affront to the Gods and must be eradicated. Mullet!Stan deserves a haircut or a hair growth. Either have it long and flowing like early Thor or cut that shit short and enjoy how little shampoo you need.

Also: long hair man-bun Stan? Fluffy voluminous man-bun Stan?

Unpopular opinion: Stanley's mullet being all fluffy everytime he has a chance to shower, his hair being as curly and soft as Ford's.

Also mullets are hard to tie up guys. I love ponytail Stan but consider: half up hair stan