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Happy 9th anniversary

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A million possibilities, a million different deaths, and I just HAD to be the one that's all alone.

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Stanley...what did you do?

Also grunkle in dress<33

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who cares about the rest of the show i am going to think about the brief moment where the stan twins meet up 30 years before and all the ways it could have went

[fuckyoubitch-99]

Stanley wasn't sure if he was supposed to be dead. He wasn't all too sure if he was supposed to be alive, either.

He was... somewhere. He didn't know where exactly, but it didn't matter. Nothing really seemed to matter all that much in this strange place. Compared to the unfathomable expanse of nothingness that surrounded him, everything else practically paled in comparison. Still, Stanley felt as though this all-consuming abyss that kept him prisoner within its dark maw deserved a name; at the very least, a title. Yet, it didn't feel right to call this place anything. Death too egregious, and Life too extroadinary; either terms felt far too extreme to his liking. There was nothing particularly hideous nor amazing about where he was. He was simply somewhere in-between.

For as long as he could remember, Stanley's world was just that. This somewhere; this in-between of not quite Death and not quite Life. This empty, greedy abyss that seemed to swallow him whole, stretched as far as the eye could see in every direction. There was no sky, no ground, no anything; only the daunting dakness engulfing his every senses and leaving him horribly, hopelessly blank.

That wasn't all there was to it, however. This... somewhere, it was more than just a lifeless void.

Stanley wasn't sure if he could find the right words to properly describe it. He didn't think he could ever come to fully understand the feeling himself, but. Somehow, the abyss felt... hungry. Unimaginably, insatiably, and unbearably hungry.

The hunger seemed to eat away at Stanley, tearing off pieces of him chunk by chunk, piece by piece. With every blink, another part of himself seemed to disappear into the ravenous darkness around him. The void never took much at once, only pieces; nigh imperceptible impossibly tiny crumbs of what made him- so little that they should have hardly mattered in the grand scheme of things. But Stanley noticed. He noticed every particle, every atom that was taken away from him by this greedy hunger. The darkness was eating him; digesting him.

It was as though hunger was all that mattered in this somewhere, this stomach; the world itself a single immense digestive system. He could practically feel the void's biting hunger pangs reverberate through his bones. It was so hungry, so hungry.

The dark ate him slowly, ripping him apart from inside out and outside in. It took his flesh first; stealing away the muscles and fat beneath the skin, leaving behind nothing but meager skin stretched over bone. Sometimes, not even his bones were given the luxury of being spared, and he would find himself with an odd dip in his side where the abyss had taken a rib or two; or with half his face lopsidedly sagging into a limp mess with no muscles, fat, nor eye socket to properly hold up the skin of his face onto his skull.

The hunger took without mercy, without order nor preference. It ate anything, everything, as long it helped abate the forever stabbing, starving desperation that painfully twisted and tore at its non-existent stomach. It never really was satisfied.

It got worse when it started eating his memories.

Stanley despised the thought of losing more of himself than simply his physical body to this greedy void. However, what terrified him far more than the notion that this insatiable hunger could breach even his mind, was the fact that he couldn't remember which memories it took.

Stanley couldn't remember much; before the darkness; before the endless hunger. He liked to imagine, though, of what he could have been before. He'd probably had a warm home, warmer than the cold, cold abyss. He'd probably had a loving family. Probably. He couldn't remember.

Everything turned unsure when his own mind started failing on him. Stanley tried to cling to what little he knew. He had his name held tight in his iron clad grip, repeating it to himself like a mantra. He would try and keep track of time, but it was all in vain. Time didn't seem to matter in the face of hunger. Perhaps it had been years since Stanley's arrival; hundred, maybe even thousands. Or, perhaps it had only been a few days, weeks, months. Stan once had a fleeting, terrifying thought that maybe Time too was already victim to the darkness' insatiable hunger.

However, as much as Stan could forget his past, his identity, and life, perhaps the most tragic loss to him greater than anything else was the memory of Him.

He was important to Stanley. He couldn't remember why, but he was. There was nothing of Him left in his memories. No face, no name; not even why He mattered to him in the first place. All he knew was that the loss of Him had struck him with such profound heartache and sorrow that it had left him weeping helplessly for so long, unable to move and rooted in one spot for days, weeks, years. He couldn't remember how long.

Stan was only snapped out of his comatose stupor by His hand.

It was all that was left of Him, other than the knowledge of His past existence. It was warm, a glowing red hand that pulsed almost reassuringly within Stanley's own, its long six digits curled tightly and firmly around his hand, never once faltering in its grip. He couldn't remember a time when he didn't have it. He's had it clutched within his own cold, rough palms like a lifeline since forever; every step he took and every move he made done hand in hand with Him.

Desperately, frantically, he held onto His hand, never once letting it go. Losing the hand meant losing Him for good, and he wasn't sure if he would be able to cope with the consequences of that all alone.

However, ocasionally, even the the comforting presence of His hand was unable to keep his mind anchroed for too long, and Stanley would lose track of his memories. Plagued by odd laspes of utter emptiness, Stanley would suddenly forget. His own name, his face, everything he knew and remembered would slip withut warning between his fingers like sand; streaming down, down, down and getting lost in the gaping mouth of the void below him. He would wander aimlessly with no real destination in mind, simply roaming somwhere, anywhere.

He would come across all sorts of sights during these odd episodes of his. He'd crossed paths with hundreds upon thousands of partically decomposed remnants of once living, breathing organisms; All of them endeniably, for the lack of better words: dead. He'd walked past entire forests; enormous clusters of tall pine trees completely uprooted and floating in a massive mass of rotting leaves and half digested bark. He'd walked past countless animals, big and small, all in various stages of digestion. Animals always seemed to rot away faster than anything else, and Stanley wasn't so sure what that meant for him.

Once, Stan had somehow even found his way before the destroyed remains of a universe.

It was dead. There was no other way to describe the state it was in. He hadn't even known it was possible for entire universes to simply... die. Stolen away from its rightful place in the starry night sky.

The scene was everything he'd thought impossible to take place in this all-consuming abyss. It was extroadinary. A veritable bursting cacophany of light and heat. It was as though the universe's explosion had been paused at just the right moment, frozen in time at the very moment of its heat death. Its particles flickered, undulating softly and shifting ever so slightly like looking through a warped window. If Stanley stood still enough, and listened closely, he thought he could even hear the softest sound of the shattered screams of the broken remains of the universe ringing silently in the air. It was as ethereal as it was haunting.

The thought of the unimaginable power required to be able annihilate entire universes just like that... It scared Stan.

Stanley may not be sure of anything anymore, but as he watched the debris swirl gently in the blinding epicenter of the shattered universe from afar, he knew with a certainty that he didn't think he possessed anymore, that he did not belong here.

Part 1/2

[fuckyoubitch-99]

Love Toxic Enemies to Enemies

Also Bonus Vampire Stanley

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I won't apologize😇

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Greenline Part 16

Previous,

Masterpost

Get your greenline sticker sheet!!

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Do i even need to say anything

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damn

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So we all remember this meme right?

Now look closely at clown and Stanley

Big ears

Big nose

Bad shaved beard

I was rewatching gravity falls,and while discussing it with friends,one of them called him "sad clown".Which made me remember that one of his paintings.

Ik Stanley's 'sad clown paradox' is a well-known concept, but it's new to me that it was portrayed in the series.

Anyway do what you want with this info I just find it interesting.

Also doodle in end

[fuckyoubitch-99]

voiceover request from a friend

i’m due for another rewatch of gravity falls fr

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Stan putting his arm(s) around/hugging the kids is my aesthetic 

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Babygirl Stanley

reference

PLS MAKE MORE FANARTS WITH STANLEY

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you all hate the position i sleep in because you haven’t advanced to my level and you’re jealous of my mental acuity and caustic wit as well as being extremely good at sleeping

[fuckyoubitch-99]

Osomatsu-san don't drink so much!!!!!

Yeah yeah

[fuckyoubitch-99]

Denki Mystery Series Winter Arc - 5th Episode: 『Nanna』

Toshio’s Diary:

“Today, Nanna stopped moving.

Nanna has always been Nanna. If she were human, I wonder how old she would be.

It seems that there is always a father, an aunt or a grandma near me and my brothers.

The roles of aunt and grandmother are almost the same. If they were human, they would be like mothers.

I don’t know why. But my guess is they needed to raise us like normal people.

They are not human. They are also desperate for some purpose, while imitating humans.

Back then, other dads and grandmothers also stopped moving.

But, they were taken away by the other villagers, villagers like them. They were hidden and kept out of human sight for a long time. Then a funeral is held while everyone is imitating humans.

So for the longest time, my siblings and I, we would grieve and move forwards like normal, as if that was the natural way of things.

But, something has changed. Maybe the time limit they fear is approaching.

Anyway, Nanna who was taking care of me stopped moving today. And “Dayon”, the role of the villagers who were supposed to come take her away, didn’t show up either.

That’s how I found out that Nanna wasn’t human, but something else entirely.

Today, a wedding ceremony is scheduled to take place with someone from the Midorito Family. I wonder if this is a coincidence.

I’m gonna wear the black suit that Nanna had prepared for me.

Nanna may have stopped moving but this village is still alive. It’s alive, and it’s worried, and it’s thinking.

While imitating the human world, through trial and error, there were things it could not control at will.

I think the word “matsu” may have been the key to this, it has that… power.

Ever since I started using the name “Jyushimatsu”, I even feel like I’m sapping away the power of the village.

Since Nanna stopped moving, there’s no one around left to call me “Toshio” anymore.”

Toshio: Nanna. Thank you for everything.

Jyushimatsu: From now on, I’m going to be Jyushimatsu.

“I’ve already begun to become “Jyushimatsu”. This is the true meaning behind the Jyushimatsu Festival.

It may not be just my fault that the village is losing its power.

I can’t help but feel that there is some kind of time limit and they are in a hurry.

But I’m getting stronger and stronger. If this land is trying to use my brothers as bait,

I will protect them. My brothers.”

Toshio’s Diary* Jyushimatsu

ーThe Endー

Original Event

Summer Arc: 1 | 2 | 3

Winter Arc: 4 | 5 | 6

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