#Wings of Gravity?

[quiverymango]

Y'know what? Screw it...[WoF-ifies your Fiddlestan]

[turtletoria]

they call me the sitter the way i sit on piles of doodles for weeks at a time

[orioriko]

I can't draw birds but had this stuck in my head and had to draw it

Gravity fowls au by @wolfythewitch, but there was no blubs and durland so I allowed myself to draw then as ducks

[arttsuka]

Werewolf Wendy 💢💥💥💯💥💥💣

Also the twins

The lineart that I also colored digitally (mainly to decide on the final colors)

[a-scary-lack-of-common-sense]

What if instead of threatening to take Ford's eyes, Bill just took Fiddleford's?

Tate still remembered the night his father's sight was taken from him.

"What have you done to me, Stanford?"

He felt the storm coming even before the first lightning struck. From the very moment he opened his eyes that morning until the very moment he lay back down to bed, he could feel a vicious tension brewing in the otherwise serene household.

Storms were very uncommon at Tate's house, and on the rare occasions they did arrive, they never stayed for long.

Yet, after a quiet breakfast full of anxious, unmet glances and clattering cutlery that rang far too loudly in the silence of the table, he knew that this storm was going to be unlike any other storm he'd witnessed before.

A prickling, disquieting static seemed to have made itself at home underneath his skin, that day. It had made every hair on his body stand on end, and an odd stinging sensation to dance across his spine and tongue; an uncomfortable urge to duck and take cover low on the ground nearly overwhelming his every sense. It was like waiting for the shattering thunderclap to sound after the sky turned white with a blinding flash of light. He knew what was coming, and the anticipation was unbearable.

His mother and father had acted as though nothing was wrong; as though they didn't feel the looming presence of the darkening clouds growing like a murky gray forest on the ceiling.

He hadn't been able to fathom at the time how adults could seem so all-knowing, and yet simultaneously be so utterly clueless about the very obvious happenings that surrounded them. Now, though, he just found it strange how adults often tend to assume children don't feel the stifling weight that they hung around themselves; as if children didn't breathe the same bitter choked air as their parents did. It wasn't even as though they did a very good job at pretending; his parents always were terrible liars.

When the lightning finally struck, it set the house ablaze.

He heard the thunder from his room, and felt the crackling heat crawl up the stairs and seep through the gap beneath his door. He'd laid in his bed, hand clasped nervously across his chest and looking up at his room's cloudy, weeping ceiling as a cacophonic explosion of noises came bursting from the living room downstairs. The fight had erupted with such unprecedented force that in Tate's young mind, he'd felt genuine fear of the house collapsing atop them all from the sheer force of the yelling.

The smell of burnt tongues gently wafted through the air, and Tate briefly wondered if it hurt his parents when they scorched their mouths with such scalding words just as much as it hurt for him to hear it.

It was a big fight; a terrible, big fight; so loud, and so very angry, and helpless, and desperate, and betrayed, and sad.

The back and forth screeching seemed endless, and eventually the screaming words began to muddle and merge into one another until they hardly even sounded human anymore. Suddenly there were animals wailing in the living room downstairs, and Tate could do nothing but listen helplessly and grip his interlocked fingers tighter; hoping that if he stayed still enough, then the growling beasts that were shattering plates downstairs wouldn't come upstairs.

But then,

then,

something changed.

The shift was all too sudden; too abrupt; too quick even for the usually sharp witted child to catch on, and before he knew it, the screams of anger suddenly shifted into one of pure, unadulterated horror.

"Fiddleford, your eyes- good lord, your eyes! Let me look at them!" "Don't touch me! I- I must call Stanford, he's done something to me. Him and that demon, they've cursed me." "For Heaven's sake! Please, forget about that damned Stanford of yours for one moment and listen to yourself! My husband's gone mad, mad!"

And suddenly his parents were human again.

Tate was restless in his bed as his heart seemed to beat bruises against his ribs, his sweaty fingers digging crescent shaped grooves into his skin as fear enclosed its frigid claws around his throat in a vice-like grip. He couldn't breathe.

The storm was over, and it should have reassured him, and yet he was anything but.

Curiosity and fear had been what forced him to kick the sheets off himself and creep his way down the rickety wooden steps. He had to know what happened, he had to know what damage the storm had caused, he had to know.

His steps were far from quiet, and the creaking of the floorboards beneath his feet hardly did him any favors, but no one answered the calls of the squeaking wood. No one came peeking out from the living room to stop the obviously sneaking presence that was tip toeing through the halls; No one called out to check on their little child; all was silent, and calm, except for his mother's soft sobbing coming from the kitchen.

When Tate eventually found his father, he saw

devastation.

The storm had been merciless. It had left nothing behind but a shuddering husk of a man. His father was shaking like a leaf, shoulders tense and back hunched over as though bowed by an incredible burden. The telephone receiver was held in his hand like a lifeline; as if it was the only thing in the world that was keeping him tethered to sanity, and somehow, Tate didn't doubt that it was.

Curled up on the floor in the dark, muttering and trembling, he dared say his father looked... small.

It almost felt surreal to see his father in such a state, like witnessing a God collapse, or a star's light dim to nothingness. His father had always been a solid, permanent pillar sho seemed able to hold up the whole world on his shoulders, and still stand tall and proud despite the weight.

And yet, the crumbling remains of a once impermeable monolith now lay scattered across the hallway floor and splattered across the walls.

The sight had scared him.

At the time, Tate hadn't known what had happened. Even to this day, he still wasn't too sure he understood what exactly had taken place in that living room for his father to have so sudddenly gone from seeing to blind in the matter of seconds.

His mother had tried, in vain, to explain it to him later, to try and make him understand when he was eventually old enough to hear the gruesome tale; but still, he struggled to fully wrap his head around it.

"It was as though his eyes just sunk into his skull," his mother had recounted to him with a haunted look in her eyes. "They suddenly just vanished into the empty sockets of his face, like someone pulled them out from inside his head. There was no blood, no resistance, no tearing. It was as if his eyes were simply plucked out of sight by some invisible hand."

There had been blood on the walls when he had found father back then, a long trail of gorey wet red smeared all across the lovely yellow wallpaper. He realized only now, recalling the memory, that the blood back then had not been from his father's eyes, but from the deep gouges he had dug into his face with his nails, his searching fingers desperately looking for eyes that weren't there beneath his empty eyelids.

"What have you done to me, Stanford?"

Tate had never heard his father's voice sound so raw, so afraid. It was so unlike the familiar comforting drawl he'd grown to love and recognize, it almost sounded alien, coming from his father.

"I can't see, Stanford, I can't- my eyes, they're gone. Why are they gone? What have you done?" "Answer me, damnit, what have you done?"

His father never got his answer, because whoever was on the other side of the line soon hung up, and his father was suddenly left blind and alone.

[jellyskink]

He’s uh… he’s not gonna tell it to him straight…

[letsplaythermalnuclearwar]

Which best describes the ship you're currently most obsessed with?

it doesn't have to accurately describe the ship, just the descriptor you think is the most fitting. all gendered language is there to preserve the meme and should be read as gender neutral. please reblog for a greater sample size. if you are equally obsessed with multiple ships or currently not obsessed with any, just pick a ship you enjoy (if you don't like any ships, the dynamic you think sounds the most entertaining)

edit: if multiple fit perfectly, chose the aspect you like best about the ship

[wingsthephoenix]

hello alternative horror tumblr. do you hear me

[rystiel]

hey google what do i do if my roommate won’t stop unintentionally (?) getting into suggestive positions right in front of me

(+ a readjusted slightly better version)

[katyakurae]

Falling (I'll catch you)

Part 1 of this perhaps? Idk

[jerichothejester]

My old man yaoi

I think Bill likes him too

[youjustwaitsunshine]

seb posting about memories of valencia 2010: 🥰🧚‍♀️💕wooo🌷🌻 about time i won from pole!!💕🌱 yayy😺🍓

meanwhile marks memories of valencia 2010:

[what-am-i-doing-in-this-fandom]

Listen, I love OC x Canon as much as the next guy, maybe even MORE than the next guy ever could, but Stanley Pines would NOT date a person that looks like they're in their first year of College.

I'm sorry, but he wouldn't. MAKE YOUR OC MORE AGE APPROPRIATE RIGHT. NOW. 👇😠

[arttsuka]

Another one of this au

I made a mistake while doing the lineart in Stan's tail but I 'fixed' it

[80rosequartz08]

Here's some more queer media I'd recommend over HH/HB 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍⚧️

Wings of Fire: While WOF does have issues here and there, one thing it's pretty good at is making cute queer couples :)

⭐- Rep. Includes: Lesbian, Gay, Nonbinary

Steven Universe: One of my personal favorites! Full of amazing art and stunning symbolism.

⭐- Rep. Includes: Lesbian, Trans, Pan, Poly, etc.

Queer Duck: I haven't seen much of it, so I don't have much to say, but it's a fairly interesting look at early animated Queer rep.

⭐- Rep. Includes: Gay

Gravity Falls: A fun sci-fi mystery story paired with a fascinating family drama!

⭐- Rep. Includes: Gay, Bi, Trans, Pan (I think?)

MLP: Friendship is Magic: A silly show about teaching lessons related to kindness and tolerance.

⭐- Rep. Includes: Lesbian, Bi (again I'm not 100% about that second one)

Feel free to add your own!

[ttumblllrr]