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HURRY PLEASE IT'S URGENT 🙏🙏 I NEED SWANSEA X READER!!! I need to be his controversially young s/o that the tulpar crew thinks is a little wild but valid. I need my daddy issues to subside WITH ONE FIC I'll take anything, even headcanons.

The council has ruled no on that one, man. I'll happily write some headcanons for Swasea (they're in the works right now, actually) but I won't explicitly write such a young reader. Feel free to use your imagination but I'm not doing that, sorry, makes me uncomfortable writing that.

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Saw posts wanting Swansea x readers, I'm working on a couple lmao

I have finals coming up in two weeks so I'm focusing on school rn, but after that I'll finish them all up and post them all

Feel free to send in other mouthwashing requests too btw, I still have them open :)

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Hey! Saw u taking requests, maybe swansea hc’s in general? Like on earth and on tulpar maybe? Thanks in advance!

yup! i can do that :)

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I forgot to post this, sorry

Stinky Racing Man has been drawn

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Two little doodles I did of Jeremy from Cosmo Whispers ASMR :)

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Jimmy Mouthwashing headcanons

Ive seen too many of y'all misbehave when it comes to him so I'm giving him some grace. There's no nsfw headcanons here, just random headcanons for him.

-He will play on the demo consoles in stores for hours, he won't give it up to anyone unless and employee tells him to let another customer have a turn.

-Pirates stuff online, mainly movies and games. He did download a couple cook books geared towards low-income meals and microwave meals, and printed them out at the library.

-Used to run a pirating discord server before it got shut down (because of the pirating)

-Ironically learned most of the mlp lore but actually tried to piece everything together in his free time because he got invested in the lore. Does not consider himself a brony, as he owns no merch and isn't invested into the show at all.

-Feeds stray cats, he stopped when he ran out of money to continue doing that

-Dude is gay and cannot get over himself, internalized homophobia and misogyny. He. Is so mentally fucked up. (I am not excusing what he did, I'm just saying he has Various mental disorders)

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I'll take Mouthwashing requests! The only rules being for any request involving Jimmy, please don't be rude if I never write for it. I'm very touch and go with what I'm comfortable writing for him. The other one being I don't do ships, but I can do characters hanging out bein friends.

I'll do both sfw and nsfw for anyone though :)

I'll do x reader requests too!

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A WIP for my Turbo alter!

He has little bitch syndrome and it's fetal I'm afraid... 😔

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*funky town plays in the background*

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Serguei from Rayman: Raving Rabbids!

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Me :)

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Spy Furby Custom in the works!

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REDRAW COMIC IS BACK ON THE MENU BOYS

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Title: Little Billy Summary: A short-ish story about how I think Bill's life would have been when he was younger pre-eye doctor. Inspired by one of @redjukebox's posts here that includes the original version of this; https://www.tumblr.com/clown-hour/757964073411444736/ill-write-a-little-something-for-you-then-cause Warnings: Bullying, verbal abuse allusions/references, death

Bill waved goodbye to one of his friends as they left school, his slightly oversized shoes making a slight slap sound as they hit the pavement underneath him. As he reached his dad in order to walk home, he stayed quiet. He didn’t like his dad much, as the larger red triangle often chided him for everything he did that didn’t seem to impress him. Bill often made the connection of red equaling anger, something he even was guilty of whenever he got mad.

His mother, on the other hand, was kind to him. She always listened to him and comforted him when he needed it. She knew how his dad was, just telling him to ignore what was being said as it didn’t matter. He didn’t enjoy hearing that, but did it anyway. Because of that, blue was soothing, blue was kindness.

As the two of them neared the house, Bill ran ahead of his dad, jumping up onto the porch and waited for his dad to catch up in slow stride.

Once the door was unlocked and opened, Bill swung it open the rest of the way and bounded inside.

The excited young triangle ran into the kitchen, backpack still on from his day at school.

His dad walked in behind him, closing the door that had been swung open just moments before. He felt a shout to tell Bill not to keep doing that to the door, but quelled that feeling.

"Mom! I had an amazing day!" The triangle exclaimed, throwing his hands up with a wide eye.

"I'm so glad to hear!" His mother replied, a smile in her voice.

"Did you make me a sandwich- with the crusts cut off!" He added quickly.

She nodded, handing him a plate with a pbj sandwich sans the crusts, just like he wanted.

He quickly thanked her, sitting his bag on a nearby chair at the dining room table and sitting in the chair next to it.

He thought about the day as he ate, and how he planned on playing monster cards with someone from class the next day. He didn’t like the kid since they were mean, but they found a middle ground with the cards. Bill noted he had to get a deck ready before his bedtime so he would be prepared.

He heard his father’s speaking turn upset, despite them trying to speak in hushed voices but he could still make out what was being said. It was about how he could see other dimensions and make fire from his hands, his dad reporting back to his mom that Bill had scared some of the other kids by doing that at recess.

Bill swore up and down he didn’t mean to, that the kids made fun of him and forced him to do that, but nobody believed him. Bill tried ignoring his father’s remarks in favor of his sandwich, hating that his teacher called and told his dad about what happened at recess. It wasn’t fair to him that she did that.

He heard the quiet footsteps of his mother approaching where he sat, not wanting to look. He knew what was going to be said.

"Billy? We have something to tell you." She said sweetly, timidness behind it.

"We've decided-" His father began to interrupt.

Before he could hear his father finish he sat up, breathing heavily as his eye darted around the white walls he was entrapped in.

Right, the Theraprism. He sighed as he laid back down on the uncomfortable mattress. He laid there awake for an unknown time, staring at the stars he colored on the ceiling.

He wished that sweet voice would tell him that they didn’t blame him.

That it was all a mistake and that it was ok.

That it was all like that incident as recess.

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Title: Is it really living if you aren't yourself? Summary: Stanley thinking about things a little too hard about being Ford, his mom calls about the news of his funeral proceeding his staged death. He doesn't take a certain fact well. Warnings: Mentions of death, depersonalization (I think this is the correct term? Please correct me if not), and almost panic attack. Hoarding if you squint, neglect/abuse (Stan and Ford's dad bein a dick), and a mention of alcohol (It wasn't consumed though). Author's Note: For @drowninnoodles, based off of a post made!

Stanley, now Stanford, laughed as he saw the newspaper article outlining his staged demise. He had everyone fooled! Of course, it wasn’t a full happy laugh, no. Far from, actually. He would have to come to the terms still that he was masquerading as his twin brother. If it was anyone else, and any persona he thought up, it would have been fine. But the weight on his shoulders at the end of the day of knowing he has to be Ford hurt him.

He recently had enough money to pay rent and food, and have some extra cash left over. When he entered town, the paralyzing fear of being called anything close to Stanford made him lose confidence and turn around, gripping the steering wheel with shaky hands and a pit in the bottom of his stomach.

He cursed himself out as he drove, this wasn’t how a Pines acted. This wasn’t how he acted. Stanley wasn’t sure if the ‘he’ he was talking about was him or Ford. He quickly dismissed that thought, not wanting to think about it anymore than he had already.

When he entered back into the dusty, crowded shack he made his way into what he denounced the living room and sat on the couch in silence. He contemplated his life, what he’s done. He mainly blamed himself for Ford being sucked into the portal, being lost. He didn’t even know if Ford was alive! He hated that. That he might have caused Ford to die.

His bleary eyes trailed to the abandoned fez he stole from his father, abandoned on top of a skull he shoved somewhere along all the stuff he piled up. His father’s fez. His father…

He huffed and got up, picking up the fez with a discontented look on his face. In that moment, right then and there, realized he could do no good in the eyes of his father. Neither him or Ford could.

He tossed the fez away, not seeing where it went but heard it collide with something with a dull thud. He walked over and opened the minifridge he had bought earlier that month. He could have used Ford’s, but he didn’t want his science junk affecting his Pitt cola. He realized he should probably toss the petri dishes, they probably outgrew the dishes even. The whole fridge, actually.

He rustled around until his hand reached the back, picking out a limited edition version of Pitt that had an unknown amount of alcohol in it. Seriously, the can said that. And the packaging. There was really no telling how much was in there exactly. Stan also didn’t take a case of it legally of course.

As he closed the minifridge he heard the phone ring, jumping at the sound as it echoed throughout the shack. He assumed it didn’t work as he never heard that thing ring once since he had gotten there.

Shaking off the nerves he walked over, locating the phone. He realized it was probably altered to be that loud to be heard through the shitty wooden flooring so Ford could hear it, because no way it was that loud normally. Or maybe it was just his nerves, and headache, or maybe it really was that loud.

He hesitated when he went to grab the phone, hand hovering for a few moments. Do he dare pick it up? What if it was Ford? His dad? He swore at himself for acting that way, picking it up.

He inhaled, about to speak. Wait, he’s Ford. Right, he has to put on an act. He quickly cleared his throat and did his best impression of his brother, remembering to not try to oversell it.

“Hello?”

“Hi Stanford-” He heard his mother’s voice on the other end, she sounded like she was either crying, or about to.

“I’m calling to invite you to your brother’s funeral, you probably saw it in the paper already but I wasn’t sure so I decided to call. So far nobody else has wanted to attend, not even your father-” He stopped listening.

Nobody cared.

Not even his father cared enough to go to his funeral.

He slumped against the wall as he heard his mother talk, though it was just garbled as he processed that information.

He started sobbing, he scared himself when he first did, hearing his impression as his brother before crying harder knowing that Ford wasn’t there. He was gone. It was his voice.

He wasn’t sure how long he was there for, the dull tone of the phone lulling him slowly into a sense of loneliness and awareness of how cold the shack felt.

He decided to go to bed and not open for tours the next day, he didn’t care for the money. He remarked with another swear that that was all his father wanted after all, money for the status.

As he laid in bed, he had one thought that repeated.

If it was Ford that died, they would care.

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To honor the Book of Bill and my autism, I'm remaking a fanfic I made back in elementary school. I honestly forgot how badly I wrote, there are definite improvements that were made and I'm only a paragraph in lol

I'll post each chapter alongside each original one in a link, so you can read them off my Deviant Art in full glory before reading the better one. Cringe with me, because we are free *eagle but not really an eagle shriek in the background*

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IKEA Alien <3