Here's Some Sketches From My Latest Fic

I dunno if this counts, but me drawing some of my recent outfits.

A few of my outfits!

I participated in a tag game recently that asked what style I wore, and I started drawing out a few of my most recent ones for fun!

Consider this the beginning of a different tag game, although this is less formal. Add to this post! Draw yourself in some of your own outfits!!!

weirdmageddon missing scene not clickbait

Cat stan if he was a little more pathetic and lost a few limbs

(Heavily inspired by my kitty Momo. She is a wonderful model)

From this fic

Some prismbreak Ford fanart, featuring that fuck ass chicken baby

Au created by @antonymziie

Since you all seem intent on making this as sad and depressing as possible, allow me to add a bit of lightheartedness/humor.

What if Ford just catches Stanley's ghost in the house one day, similar to the grocery store clerks? Maybe he's just chilling in the gift shop, and absolutely scares the shit out of Soos just for kicks.

Or he keeps knocking the exact same mug off the table once Ford sits it down, similar to a cat. Just to see the frustration and confusion on his brother's face. Sure, he doesn't remember anyone in the shack, but he can still prank them, right?

Maybe Ford almost passed out when he sees Stan's face in the mirror instead of his own. And not in a depressing "we have the same face" way, but Stan is making the most ugly, fucked up face he can possibly muster while Ford is walking past a mirror at 3am.

@aroace-get-out-of-my-face @thefallenangel2008 @ravmycupine

just wanted to add some thoughts to the memory vial/brain dead au (or whatever we're calling it)

because of course ford's guilt about using the memory gun on stan is so much worse than it is in canon, not just for the obvious reasons but also because like

this wasn't the plan

Stan agreed to have his memories erased—of course he did, the whole thing was his idea. But he didn't know he was going to die. Granted, I feel like Stan probably still would've been willing to make that sacrifice if he had known that. But I don't think Ford would've.

Ford just thought he was turning his brother into an amnesiac, and even then he almost couldn't bring himself to pull the trigger. And of course he knew it was going to hurt, having Stan look at him like he's a stranger, but at least that's the outcome he was preparing himself for.

He was not prepared to see Stan's body topple over on its side, his unblinking eyes staring blankly ahead. Ford rushes to his brother's aid, grabbing him by the shoulders, trying to rouse him, calling his name (except, he wouldn't know his own name anymore, would he?). Stan's not moving. He's not breathing. Oh God, he's not breathing. Ford glances at the memory gun on the ground next to them, and horror washes over him as he realizes what he's done. The gun erased more than just memories, it erased everything. Stan's brain was a floppy drive and Ford was the magnet, wiping it clean and leaving it broken beyond repair.

No, no, this wasn't the plan. Time to call off the con. This wasn't supposed to happen. Stop, cut, abort mission, abort mission!

But it's too late. What's done is done, and he can't take it back.

Oh God, I killed him.

Sobbing now, Ford mutters choked-out apologies, first to Stan's body as he holds him tight—and again at his grave after he's buried. And the apologies start up anew every time he visits.

As the years go on, Ford is haunted by all the what-ifs that might've saved his brother's life. What if he had thought to type "Stanley Pines memories" into the memory gun instead of just "Stanley Pines", would it have kept his essential brain functions intact? Hell, what if he typed in "Bill Cipher"? Would that have been enough to kill the bastard and still let Stanley keep most of his memories and, more importantly, his life?

Ford doesn't know the answer to that question. And he'll never know. Because as much as he longs for it, he'll never have that chance to go back and do it differently.

Ford: This trip to the Vatican City has been quite fruitful, though still no sign of the Ionza. I wonder if more written accounts exist that I’ve missed? Overall, an enjoyable trip!

Stanley, wearing the papal tiara and holding an empty bag of weed: WE NEED TO LEAVE RIGHT FUCKING NOW

“sorry i can’t come out, i have plans”

the plans: