#((in a few words))

[jazpers-vampyr-kronikkerz]

hey so like the second worst thing js happened to me lol

i’ll write it in tags

tw: INF3CTION, PVKE

[stealingpotatoes]

tried to tell my faithful eunuch Tucker that he was basically tumblr famous, but he was too focused on defending the homestead to care

[firefrightfic]

to anyone missing my writing please know i am also missing my writing

[krysmcscience]

I have some questions about karaoke night, Alex Hirsch. Very Important Questions. Which I will happily scream at a poor hapless baby triangle who can have no answers for me, and possibly also does not have object permanence yet.

Follow-up that is I guess suggestive, but let's be real here, Bill's a fucking triangle:

Dude slipped right into his birthday suit, lmao

this is so stupid :D

Anyway, I don't care what anyone says, this brilliant individual knows what's up - Bill is absolutely way more of a monsterfucker than Ford could or ever will be, full stop.

[angelsdean]

me whenever i see /pos and /hj: why are you calling me a piece of shit and what do handjobs have to do with any of this :/

[stil-lindigo]

SPREADSHEET OF PALESTINIAN ESCAPE FUNDS‼️TIME SENSITIVE

Operation Olive Branch is a continuously updating spreadsheet of Palestinian escape funds where progress towards their goals is being tracked. As of right now, there are over 100 funds listed there.

Any amount of money can make a difference. With their recent decision to bomb Rafah, the only remaining “safe” territory in Gaza, Israel has forced Palestinians into a corner by giving them nowhere else to go. The international community has given Israel the ability to act with impunity - it is long past the point in time to rely on those in power to hold Israel to any standard of compassion.

Today, I want you to look at this document, choose a fund, contribute to it, and share it. The people in Rafah are living on borrowed time. Free Palestine.

[chloesimaginationthings]

I love Michael Afton's story in FNAF..

[expelliarmus]

[k9wa]

𑣲 RILE HIM UP ! ft BOOTHILL.

⠀ — your least favourite cyborg is brought back to you a mangled mess.

⠀ OR

⠀ — being boothill’s mechanic when you lowkey can’t stand each other.

⚠︎ sweet sweet tension, a little suggestive towards the end, gn reader (no referring pronouns), can they fuck already, this was ib by his lightcone, wc 1.9k

boothill's eyes flickered to life, emitting a faint glow of red as his systems began to reboot.

a pair of familiar red pupils met yours, two crosshairs fading into sight as boothill regained his sight and— to your dismay— consciousness.

as the cyborg regained his motion he attempted a step forward, only to realise he didn’t have the feet or legs to do so. the only thing keeping him powered on were some metal claws screwed into his back and a few loose cables connecting to your terminals.

“sugar plum,” boothill's scruffy voice cut through the silence. “do y'care to explain where my legs might’a run off to?”

you actually cocked an eyebrow. how the hell were you supposed to know? boothill was brought back to you in a mess of scraps and wiring— the damn hunk of metal was lucky you made him as blast proof as possible and he was left salvageable. 

“care to tell me how the hell you got this roughed up?”

you asked in turn, crouching down to look at the detached and ruined internals of boothill's torso where the stand-in wires were connected. you ran a finger carefully along the edge of his shredded metallic stomach.

“guess i didn't make you as smart as i thought. time for a newer model, maybe?”

boothill's eyes flickered down to his missing lower half, then to your hand that was more or less caressing him. it was amazing how much annoyance they could show in all their artificial glory.

“look who’s talkin.” the cowboy grumbled, pointy fangs poking out in an irritated grin. 

“how ‘bout, ‘gee, boothill! i’m real glad y’ain’t get blown to smithereens beyond repair!’” 

“it would've been less work for me if whoever blew you up finished the job.”

you sighed as you stood up, putting a hand lazily on your hip.

“how’d it happen?”

boothill bit back another argument with a gruff chuckle.

“some real cutie-pies i was huntin’ down had a lil’ more firepower than i expected. guess they didn’t appreciate me spoilin’ their party.”

boothill visibly cringed as his insult was substituted with some cutesy nickname mid explanation.

“and can you fix my beautiful synesthesia beacon already? this thing is drivin’ me up the wall.”

the request fell on deaf ears as your fingers typed something on your laptop, likely another string of code.

“you’re more concerned about your censor than how long it’s gonna take me to put your legs back on…” you sighed to yourself, still leaned over your workbench, eyes focused on your screen.

“i'm not touching it right now. you’re lucky i’m even letting you stay sentient after this.”

boothill snorted at the remark, brows furrowing in a steady grimace.

“well, ‘scuse me for wantin’ to speak freely–  i’m a grown man!” his pointy teeth shone as they peeked out again in a grin.

“y’know what? just leave yer lil’ tools and all the pieces there— i’ll get my legs back on myself. don’t need no charity work from the likes’a you.” he laughed. “heck, may even give myself a new pecker while i'm at it!”

the mechanic had half a mind to listen, sit back and watch boothill struggle to reassemble himself just to prove a point and simultaneously bask in his embarrassment when the former realised it wasn’t possible.

(not that he would’ve admitted defeat– you would have begrudgingly stepped in and helped before he inevitably messed up his wiring more.)

you stepped back over to boothill, hands moving to hold his cheeks so you could tilt his face side to side to check for any more damage.

“cool it, cowboy.” your eyes squinted in focus as they looked at boothill's, lightly tugging up on his eyelid to check for scratches or cracks.

“i'll get you back up and running, just lose the attitude already.”

boothill's eyes narrowed as he felt your touch on his face. the temperature difference of warm fingers on his cold, mechanical body stirring an oddity where his gut should have been. though he tried to ignore it, the sensation was there, clear as day against all his artificial nerve endings. 

“real easy for you to say,” he huffed, avoiding your eyes as he was examined like a broken toy. “let’s see how peachy you are when yer all strung up and legless, love muffin.”

that censor really was gonna drive him insane.

“just get it over with.'' boothill muttered in annoyance. “and try not t’fuss anythin’ up.”

it took quite some time, as expected, for you to successfully reattach boothill’s legs and fix his mangled midsection. when you were finally finished, you tugged out any leftover wires that connected boothill to your terminals and pushed back in your wheelie chair to beckon the cowboy forward. you pushed your glasses up to your forehead, some hair getting swept out of your eyes with them.

“feel fine?”

boothill rolled his ankles and bent his knees, giving his legs a good stretch to test their mobility.

“mighty fine,” he responded, satisfied to feel they were weighted and moved the same as before. “though i can’t say i’m lovin’ the breeze up my backside.” 

boothill glanced down at himself, steel body completely bare and lacking any of his signature clothing. 

“got my pants lyin’ around anywhere, sugar plum?”

you pointed to another table in the room, where boothills clothes— (or rather the new ones you had to go and get—) were neatly folded, his hat placed on top of them. 

boothill went to get himself dressed, hoisting up his bell bottomed pants and sliding on his jacket. he stole a glance in your direction every so often, resisting the childish urge to roll his eyes at the mere sight of you.

the artificial man hit a small bump in the road as he went to zip his jacket (could you really call it that with how little it covered?) up—  his fingers weren’t responding as well as they should have been. he could open and close his fist, but lacked the precision to pinch and hold the zipper.

“hey, honeybun,'' boothill called over to you with a furrowed brow. “didn’t i tell you not to go fudgin’ anythin’ up?”

you, in all your overtired glory groaned, turning around in your chair and waving boothill back over.

“what are you talking about?” 

“my cute lil’ fingers ain’t workin’ that’s what i’m talkin’ ‘bout!”

boothill's footsteps were clunky and loud as he stomped his way back over to his mechanic.

you reached for his hand, an uncharacteristic gentleness in your touch as you examined five mechanical fingers.

“make a fist,”

boothill obeyed, curling his fingers into his palm.

“open it,”

he obeyed again, letting them open and relax.

“hold up two fingers,”

boothill tried, but his fingers got stuck halfway into the motion, locking at the joints.

“son of a bitch.” you sighed, turning for one of your tools. “sit back down.”

boothill grumbled and went to hoist himself back onto the workbench.

“least one o’us can say it…” 

“do you want me to fix you or not?”

“i'm sittin’ ain’t i??”

you pulled boothill's shirt off his left shoulder and popped open a tiny panel on the curve of his neck, sliding your glasses back on to the bridge of your nose. with a lean forward you began carefully looking at a few thin wires that filled the space.

boothill tapped his fingers against the tabletop while you worked, that same oddity as before settling in his now repaired gut. he rarely got messed up enough for you and him to spend this much time together, or for you to have to really be in such close proximity.

it’s not uncomfortable, but the feeling is by no means familiar. it’s actually a little embarrassing– a galaxy ranger, a space cyborg and expert hunter, feeling almost flustered at some close contact like some kind of shy little girl.

“something the matter?”

boothill nearly jumped as you spoke up quietly to check on him, voice quiet and so close to his ear he had to refrain from leaning both closer and away.

“nah, everything’s just dandy.” boothill’s voice followed yours– quieter and a little softer as a result of the closeness.

“you’re sure?” you looked up from the small mess of wires, eyes glancing up at your cyborg over the rim of your glasses. “might as well fix anything else that’s bugging you while i’m here.”

boothill would have swallowed if he had the need to lubricate his throat. he shook his head, turning to look somewhere— anywhere else.

yours lingered on him, albeit briefly, observing the clench of his jaw and the way he tried to shift in his seat without being disruptive to your work. he didn’t see the little smirk tug at your lips as you refocused on the task at hand.

boothill’s cybernetic limbs felt almost human in their sensitivity, sending faux shivers up a spine he didn’t even have. the mechanics fingers running down his forearm are doing him no favours as they move to hold his hand again.

“close your fist…open it…two fingers up…”

each command was obeyed, ten gunmetal fingers finally holding up a little peace sign.

“that should be it, come see me if they start acting up again.”

you stood up, tentatively reaching out to fix boothill’s jacket and begin to zip it for him.

boothill didn’t protest the act, but it was…confusing, to say the least.

“reckon i’ll just start seein’ those auto bots again,” he leaned back on his palms as your fingers fixed his collar, straightening it out.  “much as i love our lil’ visits.”

you only hummed, smoothing out a few wrinkles and neatly tucking his scarf into it’s neckline, as he liked. “you could,” you mused, hooking your finger lightly into his collar and giving a gentle tug forward. “they don’t take as good care of you as i do, though.”

this time boothill caught the little smirk on your lips, clear as day and enough to make him question if short circuiting was possible.

you’re doing it on purpose, he knows. the careful touches to his hands and body against the sensors you put there, quiet voice leaving him with a frisson you made it possible for him to have.

boothill returned the smirk, albeit a little wobbly.

“you tryin’a rile me up, sugar plum?” 

he entertained you with a lean forward, two white crosshairs looking right at you while he considered if a hand on your waist was too forward or the perfect cornering move. 

“just like watching you squirm.”

you were gone as quickly as you’d arrived, finger unhooked and going to pick up his hat.

“but say i was,” you didn’t bother with a glance over as you made sure the brim was straight and unharmed. “i hardly have to try.” 

boothill hopped down from the table, following your path and offering a scruffy chuckle when you reached up to place it on his head.

“yeah? and what makes y’say that?” his hand found a place on his hip.

you didn’t respond— not verbally, anyway. a quick flick of your eyes downwards was all he received. 

so he followed, looking down as well, to the very appendage he had insisted you give him over and over again pushing against his trousers. 

his own dream, now his downfall. 

boothill pushed passed you, pushing his hat further down onto his head while he stomped away. the profanities that left his lips filled the air— or rather their replacements. something something i love you blah blah peach cobbler something cutie-pie or meow!

“remind me t’settle for them lovely auto bots next time!”

he opened the door with a firm kick of his boot, stomping out with a scowl. 

as if he wouldn’t be back. you took better care of him, after all.

⠀ 𑣲 MASTERLIST / GOT A REQUEST ?

[sweetpupii]

I personally think vander got used to having quiet, gentle sex and by that I mean grinding through clothes late at night.

doesn't matter the position, he's gonna rub against you and groan into your neck until he cums fully clothed because he doesn't want to risk waking up the kids.

yeah, his underwear and pants end up a mess and so do yours but he can't help it ! if he were to actually fuck you he knows he's gonna be so loud :< like come on, this man is 200cm tall, he is big everywhere which makes having regular sex in secret a bit ( really ) hard.

he's heavy and his movements—as controlled as they can get—are going to make the bed creak anyways; he has tried most positions to help with that issue. doggy? self explanatory, he goes feral. missionary is nice, he gets a full view of how your pussy stretches out to accommodate the thickness of his cock but that makes him lose his mind. sideways will always make the bed move. riding him has an issue similar to missionary, he gets to see and feel you taking him deeper so he can't help but moan loud. ( he's just a man, okay? )

surprisingly it started in a nonsexual situation.

you sitting on his lap, playing with the hair on the back of his head as he stroked your back, nails mindlessly scratching over the fabric of the shirt. comfortable silence in the bedroom as you two cuddled half asleep. he wasn't turned on to begin with, he really planned on holding you close until his mind decided to shut down, but after weeks of no intimacy—both too fucking tired to do more than kisses in bed—a long day at the bar and the kids already asleep leaving you alone… he couldn't resist.

free hand grabbing the plush of your hip to veeeery slowly move you back and forth against his lap, slow enough that it wouldn't ruin the gentle moment. he was a bit worried you'd get mad or something for thinking with his dick in the middle of lovey-dovey time but that quiet hum on his neck and the feeling of you also moving on your own told him enough.

strong arms wrapping around your waist as soon as you take care of the grinding part, holding tight onto you while lazily pressing kisses on the top of your head and whatever place he can reach. he is so clingy he needs to hold you even while fucking. I mean, he has a pretty girl all to himself being a sweetheart, how could he resist?

sure, he wants to feel you wrapped around him all wet and warm for hours but he's more than satisfied with just this for now. ( even if the cum on his boxers isn't so satisfying and pleasurable the next morning once it's dry… )

doesn't matter if now, years later, the kids moved out and powder spends the nights at her hideout more than her own room meaning you both got the house to yourselves. he still needs a little grinding while cuddling every now and then.

“you don't have to stay quiet,” the breathless giggle you let out going straight to his lower belly as he peppers kisses all over your neck and jaw, his hands running up and down your thighs. his own breath arrhythmic at the feeling of you pressing down and moving against his clothed cock, literally makes him throb. the way your body feels even without being naked is heavenly.

“I know,” he groaned into your skin, palm sliding under your shirt to tug you closer. god, how he loves having the love of his life on his lap anytime he wants to. every night, every morning, every evening with no complains. “just...let me enjoy it some more.”

he must have been a damn saint in his previous life to live such a wonderful one today.

masterlist ♡ taglist

[pants-lint]

Just had a Thought and now I'm curious. What's you guy's strangest comfort media? It doesn't have to be strange as in like creepy/fucked up/whatever, it can just be smthn a lil odd.

[sandersstudies]

This is purely anecdotal, I have no numbers to back this up, but I think the kids who have the best relationships with their parents tend to practice what I call the Circle Back.

In a space that includes both adults and kids, and is safe enough that kids aren't being directly supervised by their parents, I've noticed most kids with strong family relationships follow the same pattern: they socialize with others or participate in an activity, and then periodically circle back to their family group. They might observe one or both parents for a couple minutes, or offer a hug or kiss or brief conversation, and then they go back to what they were doing, and repeat. Sometimes they have a question (When are we leaving? Can I have a slice of cake?) but often it seems like a totally purposeless check-in purely intended to affirm their relationship with their parent. (Hi. Love you. Bye.)

Kids who are very clingy and don't really move away from their parents, or who avoid or evade their parents for most of the evening, would be examples of those who don't follow the circle-back pattern.

[juniemunie]

[Abandoned by the Lightners, his heart became cracked with hatred.]

Hitting a lil' too close to home?

[mimimar]

☆announcement!☆ i've opened a charity print shop with prints of my tgcf (and other cnovels) fanart!

i've set up a separate print shop where 100% of profit will be donated to charity and made my tgcf art available as prints for the first time! (as well as my jwqs, word of honor & mdzs art)

visit my charity print shop ☆HERE☆

at the moment ALL profit will be donated to palestinian aid, we'll be donating to more causes as well in the future. i'll be posting donation receipts on my twitter.

people have been asking me for prints of my tgcf art for a very long time and i've also been thinking about what else i can do to help, i hope we can all come together to help in this way♡

(and you can still find my main print shop with my non-tgcf/cnovel art here!)

[that-tall-queer-bassist]

hey, just as a btw, a fic or a series not uploading for a year doesn't mean its abandoned.

Sometimes the authors have shit going on, other wips, or! it just needs to sit and marinate for a bit. Collecting all the flavor and details it wouldn't have otherwise.

it's okay for updates to take a while.

And if you're impatient? Why not leave a nice comment telling us (the author(s)) what you love about the fic or series? say that you love it, and are "waiting eagerly for the next chapter" and/or that you "would love to see x or y happen because it would mean-"

This could be a new fandom vibe because of all the "i have to drop this while people are still interested" energy, but its not universal, and i don't believe its good for the fandom ecosystem.

Have patience, and have compassion. Remember that authors are human and these fics? (or comics, animatics, whatever) This is our art. We care about it just as much, if not more than you.

[itsscaredycat]

ah yes…

my thoughts under the cut (turned out to be longer than initially intended lol)

honestly, kinda mixed feelings :’)

it’s great that the fandom is making a comeback because gravity falls is seriously an amazing piece of media, and all the offshoots that came from the main series are equally incredible. it deserves this second wave of attention and more! still one of my favourites, all the mysteries and secret codes back in the day changed my brain chemistry lmao

as far as personal feelings go, i can’t believe the amount of people i’ve had tell me that i inspired them in some way to be an artist through my old gravity falls art, it’s amazing! and i am so flattered and happy that i could have that kind of positive influence on people. art is my passion and knowing i had a hand in making it other people’s as well is a really cool feeling :’) i read every single message i get in my askbox and some of them have made me legitimately emotional (in a good way)

but then on the opposite side, there are a lot of people— most of whom i have never interacted with— who have a fully formed opinion on me based on actions of mine that are almost a decade old. just knowing that has been crippling, i’m ND and i’ve always struggled with anxiety issues surrounding how others think of me. it feels kinda hopeless and scary, because there is no way my current actions and the ways i’ve changed will ever reach all of them. but i’m only human, all i can do is focus on the positive and keep being kind in both my offline and online lives, and hope it comes back around

the shy part of me wishes i was just another person in the fandom so that i could share my art without fear of hateful comments, but also having made enough of an impact that something i made got acknowledged in “canon” is hilarious and pretty fucking cool (shoutout to @valdevia LOL) i’m just gonna keep doing what i’ve always done: make art because it makes me happy, and share it in hopes it will make others happy too 🩷