#yeah there's a bump there

[whitherwanderer]

like and subscribe?? ♿

[louferrignojrofficial]

i'm just insane enough to have noticed this was tommy's hands without actually seeing him in the scene

[thebramblewood]

I caved and installed Businesses & Hobbies, so Micah and Naomi got some new outfits. I'm hoping to play a bit in their save to reset my brain for storytelling!

[freckleslikestars]

I'm old-school, Mulder. Pre-Google.

Happy 60th Birthday Dana Katherine Scully!

google search overlay by @cal-kestis, spotify overlay by @danesdehaan following scrolling tutorial by @eddiediaaz [insp: ☆ ★ ☆ ]

[moeblob]

[jazzy-a]

After Ody gets home and, of course, slaughters all the suitors and reunites with his wife and son, that man absolutely sat down with a council and immediately pulled out schematics, like:

"Cool, cool. So, first things first: We're building new temples for Athena and Hermes. What? Placement? Oh, yeah... Just knock down the Poseidon one. It's fine. I stabbed that God, like, 20 times into submission. Pretty sure that means the ocean is my b*tch now....And f*ck that guy anyways, am I right? So, for Athena's temple, I'm definitely thinking blue✨-"

[cringefail-clown]

i have an asshole inside my brain that tells me to start lifting and buy more hats

[starlight-eclipsed]

The only lights besides the eerie glow of malice are the dizzying dance of poe lanterns floating through the halls. Dark will never admit the how those little spots of brightness comfort and calm him, even though he does not need light to see.

Howdy, folks. I'm sleepy and can't think of anything funny to say, so I'm just gonna cut to the chase: Go read A Dark Among the Lights by @luckylectio on AO3.

[too-many-rooks]

was giffing this for something else, but. he's so polite when he's kidnapping a teenager from the hospital room of her comatose father (who he put in a coma) to be used as a hostage/bait in a crazed billionaires wild schemes. Like yeah he's gonna do all that, but he'll open the door for her. He's not a monster.

[not-in-your-walls]

Fist bumps in g/t

[paulorlac]

this is seriously messing with me so bad his design literally completely changes. they did this to fuck with me specifically

[donelywell]

Seeing your art really is the visual equivalent of fluffy boi naptime snuggles

Jokes aside- thank you! I really do love drawing the warm sleepy stuff, so this means a lot!

[delawaredetroit]

Shouto taking Class 1B's provocation seriously is hysterical okay

Shouto: I've dishonored our whole class through my failure. It's my fault that loud blond from 1B gets to gloat two seconds longer today.

Kirishima: What are you even talking about this wasn't even a competition?

[mirror-dimension-dump]

growing

[ddeck]

Jango is throwing shapes previously unseen

[gemallass]

Accidentally made a 1,198 words ficlet as a sequel of sorts to this post

Cross-posted on Ao3 too if that's more comfortable

Can you imagine that's how Stan finds out that Ford regresses? 🥺

Without waiting for a proper response to his knocking he barges into Stanford's room, after all, Stanley is a man on a mission right now: Making sure his very intelligent but also knucklehead of a brother doesn't miss on a proper meal, which, could end up in two different ways.

Case one, he has to wake him up. Or at the very least get him conscious enough that he can get a bearing of his surroundings, and, hopefully, not feed the floor too much of his food.

Stan doesn't care if Ford ends up falling asleep on the table while he cooks something up for the both of them. He doesn't care if Ford blinks one eye at a time and eats even slower, which delays the task of washing the dishes and has him counting the stains on the ceiling for the next hour. And he certainly doesn't care if he has to guide or even carry Ford back to his room when he, inevitably, ends up falling asleep at the table again.

So long as he's not starving and overeating later, anything is fair game.

Case two, he has to convince him to get away from his work, which is never easy. And after having had a few arguments over eating (turned) cold hard food, bringing the meal to said room and leaving him to it isn't an option anymore.

They both know hot meals are a privilege, why waste it?

But they also know that the habits that once helped you make it to another day are hard to get rid of.

Stanley also isn't balancing the plate on his lap, either, when there's a perfectly fine table in the kitchen. Thank you very much.

He complains, mostly to himself, no doubt, about how he can feel his stomach disintegrating due to not having put anything in it--never mind the fact that he merely woke up minutes ago--but stops abruptly when he's inches away from the end of the bed-couch. And with a hand still hovering above the covers, he finally takes in the scene before him.

His brother, the interdimensional criminal, certified badass, owner (and creator?) of a hundred spacey-looking guns and the man that went through hell at the hands of a yellow demon--who Stan also wishes he could turn into his personal punching bag to use until the end of times--and still got out alive, with most of his sense of self intact, even, was sleeping with a goddamned plushie of half his height.

And with a dark blue pacifier in his mouth.

Oh, he's so not letting dear ol' Sixer live this down any time soon. He rubs his hands together while a mischievous grin appears on his face at the mere thought of a few remarks and jokes he could do.

After all, Stanley is not going to miss the chance to expand his arsenal of things to tease Stanford with. I mean, c'mon, he looks utterly and completely adorable! What's Stan to do? Ignore it and break the sacred sibling's code? Blasphemy in its purest form, he says!

Plus, the guy looks pretty relaxed too, a whole change from the usual deal. And vulnerable, which, did also differ a bit from the usual.

Hm.

That last thought brings his previous scheming and snickering to a sudden halt. He takes a seat on a free spot on the couch, careful to not touch the sleeping man at his side, suddenly overwhelmed with the need to let the peaceful atmosphere continue. Maybe even keep it from being disrupted.

Yeah, he could do that.

Because at last, Ford hadn't woken up at the slightest sound, and started pacing as if he hadn't been asleep moments ago. At last, Ford didn't seem to be fighting for his life when he was supposed to be the most relaxed, according to normal people (and verified by his fellow nerds). At last, Stanford hadn't jumped out of bed and taken the stance of a threatened wild animal when his brother, his twin, Stanley, entered his space. Something that he seemed to have learned for survival purposes--which Stan can also relate to--and that he doesn't really fault him for, yet that it came with a price when people close to you were involved. Hurting them one way or another.

Which, speaking of, he isn't sure if Ford would take kindly to him knowing about... This... That he does.

Stanley doesn't think anything about it. Really. Specially since it seems to be so effective on helping Brainiac sleep for once. And it appears to be harmless, so, who cares? Not him, that's for sure. But, if Ford had wanted him to know, he would've spoken or at the very least mentioned it, right? Back on the boat, there were nights where they slept on the same bed due to old not-so-happy memories resurfacing, or even just nightmares involving either them or the other, and they could use the reassurance that everything was and is okay and also that the other was safe and relatively healthy (some habits did start to catch up with them and did not mix well with the old man problems. (Cursed be the nicotine manufacturers on Stan's case)).

Did Stanford need it then and there but abstained from it to not seem "weird" in his brother's eyes? Please! Stanley ran a business in Gravity Falls for 30 years, for Moses’ sake!

Surely he knows that the jokes he throws at him are just harmless banter and that he never means it as a genuine attack, right? He must know he wouldn't judge him for something like this, right? Jeez, Pointdexter, I wouldn't hit you so low. Stanley thinks. Not again, never again.

Were it not for the--quite painful--pang and literal growl of his stomach, Stanley would have continued studying his sleeping brother and thinking about how to approach the topic. If at all. But alas, he's needed somewhere else. Somewhere with fresh food. And maybe coffee.

As gently and slowly as he sat down, he gets up, but freezes mid-way through when the still figure decided to not-be-so-still anymore. His brain scrambles for a way to book it out of there without making a sound while his heart beats in his ears. Finally, when he sees that Ford was definitely still asleep, and that he also feels his soul come back to him, he gives the rest of his body permission to continue working as usual. His lungs being the first to get back into action with a big release of air and subsequently an intake.

He glances back at his brother with a soft smile one last time before deciding to take his leave.

Stanford can have his secrets. Stanley would make sure to guard and protect them (and him). Ford didn't have to know that Stan knew, if that's what he had wanted in the first place. Stanley could keep his mouth shut.

Besides, it wouldn't be lying if it was never brought up. Nothing for him to deny, so, Stan is on the clear here.

. . .

Hopefully.