Alright Hear Me Out…just…J-JUST HEAR ME OUT!

I have been graced with the death omen on my page

Befriends the local dog

party grunkles

𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠. . .

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ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ!

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾.☆。• *₊°。 ✮☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏ ⠀⠀⠀ ⋮⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⋮⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⋮ ⠀⠀⠀ ⋮⠀⠀⠀ ⋮⠀⠀⠀☆⠀⠀⠀ ⋮ ⠀⠀⠀ ☆⠀⠀⠀ ⋮⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⋮⠀⠀⠀⠀☆ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ☆⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⋮ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ☆

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ :

1:35 ───ㅇ───── 3:49

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺

Ah hello travelers, i’m so glad you have chosen to stop by my little corner of the internet!

I wanted to welcome you and let you know I appreciate you spending your precious time here at my blog very much. Everyone is so busy and life moves pretty fast, so I really do appreciate you taking time out of your busy day to check out my blog! Thanks.

This blog will include digital art, Gravity Falls, Ocs, maybe some fanart, etc but i know we will have a lot of fun! I do appreciate criticism and tips on my artwork but please don’t just go out of your way just to tell me my artwork looks horrible and not give a reason why it’s not helpful plus it only wastes your own time.

Well I do hope that we can be good friends oh and please don’t hesitate to draw fanart of things I create or send in asks I would love to answer your questions, plus I just love seeing everyone’s wonderful art.

͙⁺˚*･༓☾.☆。• *₊°。 ✮☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Hmmm alright i’ll take your little idea and run with it because its a damn good one

“Death of a Pines” AU hope you don’t mind that I gave it a name @leo-artista

The plan was simple: fake his death, disappear, and finally be free from Rico’s gang. Stanley Pines had spent too long on the run, always looking over his shoulder, always scrambling for cash, and always one bad deal away from a bullet to the head. The moment he got wind that Rico’s men were closing in, he knew he had to act fast.

A wrecked boat. Some personal belongings left floating in the bay. A perfectly timed storm to wash away the evidence. Just like that, Stanley Pines ceased to exist.

It should’ve been easy. No more bounty on his head. No more desperate cons to make a living. Just a fresh start somewhere far away. But what Stan hadn’t accounted for—hadn’t even considered—was that news of his “death” would actually reach his family.

And that they would mourn him.

The Funeral of a Ghost

The news spreads fast. The body is never found, but the police rule it as a probable drowning. His name makes the papers—Local Man Presumed Dead After Boating Accident—but to the people who once knew him, it means a final, gut-wrenching truth: Stanley Pines is gone.

Ford finds out from a letter his mother sends, written in unsteady, grief-ridden handwriting.

“Stanley is dead, Stanford.”

At first, he doesn’t believe it. He can’t. His twin brother, the force of nature who had always been larger than life, couldn’t be gone just like that. Not after years of silence, not when they had unfinished business, not when Ford had spent so much time resenting him, regretting him, missing him in some twisted, unresolved way.

But then there’s a funeral. A small one. It’s just their mother, a few distant relatives, and some old childhood friends. The family doesn’t have the money for anything extravagant, and frankly, most of them had written Stanley off years ago. But their mother mourns. She clutches a framed picture of her lost son, crying quietly into her hands.

Ford attends, but he stands apart, watching from a distance, unsure if he even has the right to grieve.

And yet, he does. More than he thought possible.

Because if Stanley’s really gone, then that means they’ll never reconcile. Ford will never get to tell him how much he hated him, how much he loved him, how much it still burns that their last words to each other were thrown in anger. It means that all that’s left of his twin is memories—some bitter, some bright, but all of them tangled up in knots of guilt and love.

And now, it’s too late.

Meanwhile, Somewhere Else…

Stan is alive. He’s alive, and for the first time in years, he’s not running.

He takes odd jobs here and there, keeps a low profile, and tells himself this is a good thing. He’s out of his family’s hair. He’s not a burden anymore. They don’t have to deal with the screw-up son who lost everything. Hell, they probably don’t even care. He figures his mom would be a little sad, but she still has Ford, the golden child, the one who actually made something of himself.

And Ford?

Ford probably didn’t even flinch.

So Stan keeps moving, never checking the news, never making contact. He drinks a little too much, sleeps in cheap motels, and tells himself he’s free.

But deep down, in the quiet moments between grifts, he wonders why this freedom feels so much like being buried alive.

Random au idea: what if mullet Stan had decided to fake his death so that he'd stop getting chased by Rico's gang? And then it somehow ends up on the news and his family believes that he died- there's like a funeral and everything. Nobody is happy about it, but by far the one who takes it the hardest is Ford. After years of not hearing word from his twin he suddenly finds out he just died, and he has no idea how to feel about that. It's almost like a part of him died along with Stanley

Meanwhile Stan has no idea about what his family is going through because of his faked death. He just assumed that they would probably be fine, since it's not like anyone aside from maybe his mom would care anyways. He even considers it like he's doing them a favor, getting rid of the "useless" son who couldn't even make the fortune he said the would

Idk just an idea. If someone wants to use it or expand on it feel free to do so!

Sweater town

Childhood Bites Chapter One: The Taste of Something Forbidden

⚠️TW: Blood⚠️

꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒦꒰ঌ‪‪𐂯‬໒꒱꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦

Glass Shard Beach was never truly quiet. The waves crashed against the shore, the salty air thick and ever-present, while the laughter of kids carried on the breeze. But beneath the carefree energy of the season, shadows lurked. For twelve-year-old Ezekiel “Zeke” Cutter, summer was supposed to be an escape. A break from school, from expectations, from the gnawing hunger he didn’t fully understand.

He had always been close to Stanley and Stanford Pines. They were his best friends—the only ones who really mattered. Stan was the loudmouth, always getting into trouble, always bruised but never broken. Ford was the brain, always thinking, always planning. And Zeke? He was the protector, the one who made sure no one messed with them. Which is exactly why, when Campelter started picking on them, Zeke saw red.

Campelter was the worst kind of kid. The kind that smelled like sweat and cheap cologne, who thought he was better than everyone because he was taller, meaner. He had it out for Stan from the moment they met.

“Hey, loser! Where’s your freak of a brother?” Campelter sneered, shoving Stan forward.

Stan stumbled, barely keeping his footing. Ford wasn’t around to bail him out—he was probably off reading somewhere, oblivious.

Zeke clenched his fists. “Back off, Campelter.”

Campelter just grinned. “Or what? You gonna cry about it?”

Zeke’s breath hitched. He could hear it—his own heartbeat pounding in his ears. It wasn’t fear. It was something else. Something deep, something hungry.

Stan’s lip curled as he stepped forward. “I can handle myself, Zeke.”

But Zeke wasn’t listening anymore. Campelter shoved Stan again, laughing, and something inside Zeke snapped.

It happened fast. One moment, Zeke was standing still, watching Campelter grin like he ruled the world. The next, his body moved on instinct. He lunged, teeth bared, sinking them deep into Campelter’s arm.

The taste—

It was—

Indescribable.

Blood filled his mouth, warm and metallic, coating his tongue. Campelter’s scream barely registered as Zeke bit down harder, his entire body trembling.

Then, just as suddenly, he let go.

Campelter stumbled back, clutching his bleeding arm, eyes wide with terror. “WHAT THE HELL, YOU PSYCHO?!”

Zeke wiped his mouth, breathing heavily. His head swam, heart racing. What…what had he just done?

Stan and the other kids just stood there, frozen.

“Zeke…” Stan whispered, eyes darting from him to Campelter’s wound.

“I—” Zeke swallowed hard. “I didn’t—”

“You BIT me!” Campelter howled, staggering backward. He was bleeding badly, but it was just a bite. It wouldn’t kill him.

Zeke’s stomach twisted. Not in guilt. Not in fear.

In hunger.

He ran. Didn’t wait for Stan. Didn’t look back. He sprinted toward the bordwalk, lungs burning, hands shaking. His mouth still tasted like blood. It wasn’t disgusting. It wasn’t wrong.

It was good.

But it wasn’t normal. He wasn’t normal.

Zeke gripped his head, breathing hard. “No, no, no. I can’t—I won’t—”

But he wanted no he needed more.

And worse?

He knew exactly where to find it…

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

To Be Continued…

Fiddlestan Anon I cannot find your ask but here u go

*drops this and runs for my life*