The grand family tree of the Pines! A commission from Maxiluna!

משפחה זה לא רק יתרון בשבילנו, זה הכל ויותר.

"Family is not just an important thing for us, it's everything and more."

I attribute the original English quote to @mymanyfandomramblings, on her take of her next-gen Pines family tree. It is subsequently translated into Hebrew by @thegoodduckfan.

So, this is my take on the family tree, which also includes many of the unseen family members such as the Pines parents (Sarah and David), Sherman and his wife, Wendy's Mom and the other Northwests. Perhaps I would have added Abigail Northwest (an ancestor who appeared in The Book of Bill), but that's a couple more generations I would need to pay more for.

In my next-gen series, Dipper married Pacifica and they have their adorkable triplets. Meanwhile, Mabel married Kevin Corduroy and both have a pair of redhead twins.

And now to the individual portraits.

Filbrick and Caryn

The Grunkles! And Mabel knitted for them a larger Hannukah sweater!

Shermie and his wife, Michelle Pines. I headcanon that Shermie is the elder of the Grunkles, and he had gone to the Vietnam War for a time, which explained his absence during the flashbacks of A Tale of Two Stans.

The Pines parents David and Sarah! For David, it's based on the Tumblr "stemboification" post, since Hirsch mentioned he works in IT. For Sarah, I headcanon she's a museum curator. At the point of this commission, I haven't considered the possibility they might be divorced, but still, I believed they have sorted out their marital issues when the twins were away during the summer.

The Northwests and their "better lifestyles than ours". Though there's a price to pay for carrying their legacy...

Auldman was mentioned in Journal 3 as Preston's father. I haven't thought much of Adeline, though she might be also from a family of equal status. I headcanon that Priscilla was an actress, or at least a child of one.

The Corduroys! There's nothing really definitive for Wendy's Mom, besides that she isn't "present in the series", although some speculated she could have died in service as a soldier. Shannon Corduroy, Dan's wife, has black hair, which is also a throwback to the design of Pilot Wendy.

And then to the newest generation of Pines-Corduroys! Or is it Corduroy-Pines? I have Mabel and Kevin married earlier than Dipper and Pacifica. I attribute the idea to the ship to J_COTW, who wrote his take on a dipcifica next-summer series A Return to the Falls. The ship also inspired me to write an April Fools fic introducing this pair of mischievous twins.

And Dipper, Pacifica and the adorkable triplets Nita, Nilam and Taka! As we can see, the dorkiness really runs in the family.

Hope you all enjoy this set of portraits. Once again, many thanks to Maxiluna for her hard work on this massive commission!

Just found this shit on Instagram

What Gravity Falls says about fatherhood, abuse, and masculinity

(Happy Father's Day, and happy 6/18)

What’s up guys!!

It’s been a hot minute since I’ve been able to get much drawing done (I had surgery early in the month and couldn’t really do a whole lot while I was recovering (I have been. so bored. T^T)) so I thought I’d loosen up and get back into the swing of things by doing a big ol’ expression challenge!!

Original expression sheet is by @taffybuns​ ^^

Made these a looong time ago.

@detectivejigsawpines is incredibly based for making the Stans hella rich and still be weird forest men that hate the Northwests

I jsut rly love this AU okay T_T

I wanted to try drawing the GravityStuck! kids in the more standard Homestuck sprite style and I hope you guys like this stuff ‘cause there’s a chance that I may or may not have gotten the tiiiiniest bit carried away

so uh

here’s all the players from both sessions

…and their god tiers

(The best part about crossing over GF with HS is that Sburb’s mechanics come built in with the potential for the Scratch which is basically just canon Relativity)

Figuring out what all of their classpects should be without any accidental overlaps was a heck of a challenge but I think they all fit them pretty well!

"Pacifica! Did you finish your math homework?"

"I was trying to but some of the problems are really hard and..."

Ring Ring Ring

"No excuses!!!"

"Yes Sir"

"Wow this guy is a dick even for my standards!"

"Hmm I should do something about his face."

"Hmm good but not good enough."

"Nope"

"Getting close!"

"Ahhh perfection!!!"

Step right up, step right up!

I know every single one of you have been asking for the Preston Northwest plushie, and well the wait is finally over! Now for a limited time get your Preston with detachable facial features! All for the low low price of one baby's soul! Available six designer colors.

Pirate AU character design dump

Heck yes, excellent addition. I'm always a sucker for Stan acting protective/paternal with the kids.

I smell a fanfic in the making.............

No but actually, I might have gotten bit by the plot bunny and written a short drabble when I should have gotten to sleep.

---

Pacifica supposed her parents had expected her to bend after a night or two out from under their roof. Come crawling back with her tail between her legs and meekly promise to behave. To leave the first boy who'd been genuinely kind to her in the mud, alienate Mabel by proxy, and agree to sell herself to help them purchase even a scrap of the life they'd had before that fateful summer three years ago.

What they probably hadn't expected her to do, was to prefer sleeping in a sticky booth at the diner with her dignity intact. Better that than trading it for a guilded cage. She'd rather spend the rest of her life waiting tables and serving rude customers coffee with a grating smile. She didn't need her parents. She was resourceful, she was persistent, she was all of the maybe three good characteristics found in the Northwests.

She was apparently also some of the bad, though.

She was sneaky.

It wasn't that she wanted to go behind her boss' back. Especially not after they'd been kind enough to hire her despite her family's abysmal reputation in the wake of Weirdmageddon. Taking the closing shift just to be able to crash at the diner over night might be dishonest, but she'd rather be dishonest than dead. At least in this case. In the diner, she didn't risk being eaten by gnomes or carried off by giant bats or whatever else roamed the town at night. Although, if she did, maybe Mabel and Dipper could come save her. But letting them do so would mean admitting defeat. Admitting what was going on. She wouldn't admit defeat because she wasn't defeated. She'd pull through. She was perfectly fine. She just had to stay on top of things. Stay on top of things, and also make sure to never again make the mistake of locking herself out of the diner. She didn't understand how the night air could feel so cold, it was early summer for crying out loud. What on earth could posses poor people to sleep under the stars for fun? Dipper had offered her to join the Pines on a family camping trip the month before, but she had turned him down. As far as she could tell, camping was pretty much just pretend homelessness. Funny that. Maybe if she'd taken him up on the offer it wouldn't feel so scary now.

Somehow, it didn't actually feel very funny at all.

Pacifica shivered and pulled her apron tighter over herself like a stained blanket. It wasn't nearly long enough to get the job done. If she pulled it up to cover her arms her legs would be exposed, but if she draped it over her legs her arms were bared to the wind and the mosquitos instead. She supposed she could call a coworker and ask for them to come with a spare key, Susan was pretty patient with her. But that would mean revealing that she'd been staying at the diner after hours. Or worse; that for all intents and purposes she was now homeless. The notorious Northwest heiress, trembling under a too-small piece of fabric on a park bench. Her parents would have an aneurism.

There was something moving in the treeline.

A new chill that had nothing to do with the wind gripped her tight, the anxiety squeezing her lungs until breathing abandoned her. She pulled the apron over her head and hoped whatever it was wouldn't see her.

The old wooden planks bent under the weight of a person sitting down beside her.

What had she expected? She wasn't a five year old hiding under the covers and scared of the monster in the closet! She was almost sixteen, and this was the real world with real threats! Why would she possibly think that-

"Ya doing okay there?"

She recognised that voice. It was the same one she'd heard in tacky local commercials her whole childhood, the same one she'd timidly followed as the town burned around her, the same one she'd sometimes hear laughing gruffly in the background of Dipper's phonecalls. The fear drained out of her, replaced by shame. She pulled the apron back off of her head and almost instantly regretted it. She could feel her face burn.

"I-I'm fine."

"Sure ya are. Figured you wanted to try the whole 'free trial of homelessness' thing anyways?" His voice was relaxed and casual, as always. It made her feel just the smallest bit better. "You could have called us."

"I don't need help."

He regarded her closely, the unguarded smile still plastered on his face, before suddenly he dropped it with a sigh and shrugged his jacket off. Handing it wordlessly to the girl.

"Yeah, I used to think the same."

Pacifica swallowed her pride and accepted the offering.

"But, ya know, even if we don't need it... 'Camping' sucks a whold lot less with family there beside ya."

Well I was already sobbing this didn’t help. If I wasn’t so tired *grumbles and plots Stan taking her to the shack where she’s safe and at the crack of dawn is over at the Northwests ready to punch Preston with Ford as not needed by just as furious backup*

@ramblesanddragons I've got you fam

Pacifica woke to the sound of angry whispers coming from the next room.

"—and if I ever see that stuck-up asshole again, I swear I'm gonna—"

"Stanley, you need to calm down. You're going to wake the children."

"She was sleeping on a bench, Sixer! Outside! In the cold!"

Pacifica slowly got up from the couch and tiptoed to the doorway. She peeked around the frame to see Stan Pines and his (hotter, but Pacifica was not thinking about that) brother sitting at the kitchen table. Stan's hands were clenched tight into fists, and to her surprise, Stanford's were as well, though he seemed a tiny bit more calm.

"I know. It's unacceptable, and we'll deal with it. Him and his wife. But for now, her health and safety takes priority. We don't want her to..."

After a brief silence, Stan filled in, "Turn out like I did?"

"Wh—no! Of course not!" Stanford (Dipper called him "Grunkle Ford," didn't he? Yeah, "Ford"...that sounded right) said. "I was going to say, we don't want her to go through the same things you did."

"Hmm."

The brothers lapsed into another silence, punctuated only by meaningful looks. And although Pacifica had already been eavesdropping, now she felt like she was intruding on some weird telepathic conversation.

Especially when Ford sighed as if defeated, pulled a sci-fi-looking gun out of his trench coat, and said, "Fine. But we'll have to be back before the kids wake up."

Stan let out a small, victorious whoop and slipped on some brass knuckles. "C'mon, we've got a rich douchebag's face to rearrange!"

As they stood from the table, Pacifica quickly returned to the sofa, burying herself beneath the blankets and pretending to be asleep. She felt one of the men pause in the doorway on their way out of the Shack. She focused on keeping her breathing even and steady.

"Don't worry," Ford said softly. "I've already stood by once. I won't let it happen again."

The door shut with a gentle click, and once again, Pacifica was alone.

She didn't quite know what Ford Pines had been talking about.

But as the engine of Stan's car rumbled down the road outside, she found herself believing him anyway.

“I tell ya, Sixer, whenever I need cheerin’ up, I’m just gonna picture that look on his face. Lookin’ like he’d never been punched before!”

“He likely has not, Stanley,” Ford noted. The confrontation with the Northwests had gotten rather heated. Swears and threats flew from both sides, Priscilla dissolved into forced sobs, and in the climax Stan bloodied Preston’s upturned nose. Of course, the Northwest patriarch immediately vowed to see Stan arrested, to which Ford reminded him the law might not take so kindly to a man who abandoned his underage daughter to the mercy of the elements, supernatural forces, and whatever lowlife deviant found her shivering and alone in the dead of night. Even Ford had to admit, Preston’s expression of indignation and terror at the revelation had been quite memorable, his obnoxious voice wavering as he ordered the brothers off his property.

Stan was careful not to rattle the squeaking hinges as he opened the Shack’s back door. He smiled softly at the bundle on the couch, glad he could provide a frightened kid the shelter and security no one gave him at that age.

“Heh, looks like she grabbed some extra blankets,” Stan said as quietly as possible, his husky voice not accustomed to whispering, as he observed the sleeping pile seemed larger than he remembered.

“Hmmm...” Ford peered closer, peeling back the comforter. A head of unkempt brown hair lifted up in confusion.

“Dipper?”

“Too early...” the boy grumbled, burrowing his growing teenaged body back under the covers.

“Where’s Pacifica?”

Dipper’s cheeks flushed pink. “Uh... she’s in my bed. I... I heard someone crying, and I thought it was the Wailing Baby Ghost, but I found her instead. I just thought... anyway, I thought she might be more comfortable in an actual bed.”

Stan reached over and rumbled Dipper’s hair. “Heh. Who woulda thought you’d grow into such a gentleman.”

Dipper blushed again and buried his head under the pillow.

Ford cast his brother a gentle grin. “I believe he learned that from you, Stanley.”

“Me?” Stan laughed as they returned to their room. “Fat chance.”

“You did just break the richest man in town’s nose defending the honor of an abandoned child.”

Stan’s chest puffed slightly. “Well then. Guess I kinda am.”

“You are indeed.”

Northwest Mansioooonnnnn!! manor?? Big house.

It was just supposed to be a sketch-

Anyway, the haunting proceeds as normal.

It’s gonna be a long one.

Stanley, Fiddleford, Carla, and Stanford are lounging about the living room when news about the Northwest Manor party is announced. Stanley and Stanford aren’t too impressed with the idea, but Fiddleford and Carla both seem quite excited about it. They explain to the twins what it is and just how extravagant it is, Stanley soon joins the excitement when he learns about all the free handouts, but is still unsure about all the stuck up rich people. Stanford stands his ground, saying that Preston Northwest is insufferable. Cue Preston knocking on the door asking for help and Stanford promptly slamming it in his face.

“Wait, Ford! Look, I know you hate Preston. I do, too! I punched him! But look at how excited Fiddleford and Carla are. This would be the best date ever! She’d like- marry me or something if I took her to this party!”

“Stanley, taking her to this party would only skyrocket her standards for your dates. The bar isn’t even that high currently and you still have to jump for it.”

“Yeah, yeah! It’s not just for Carla, though! Fidds would probably have a blast exploring with you when you’re done with your ghost thing!”

When Stanford peeks back into the living room, Fiddleford and Carla are chanting “Dreams! Dreams! Dreams!” with excitement and Ford let’s put a heavy sigh.

“Alright.” He smiles.

Stanford is able to squeeze 3 extra tickets from Preston and they celebrate by screaming at a volume that makes Mabel wonder if they are being murdered, not that she checks.

At the party, Preston introduces Ford to his parents when they catch a glimpse at the twins. Stanley is wearing a dress shirt rolled up to his elbows over his regular T-shirt and Stanford is in his usual clothes. Preston is ordered to make them change. Stanley goes out of his way to pick a blindingly white suit knowing that even one stain will guarantee him ownership over it. Stanford picks a blue tux, it’s definitely not practical for his line of work. He’s sure it will tear at some point or another by the end of the night.

“Well, have fun on your date, Stan.” Ford huffs when Preston impatiently insists they head to the problem room.

“Oh...yeah...my date...see, well, I...I haven’t asked Carla yet.”

“What- but we’re here already. You know you’re supposed ask beforehand right?”

“Of course I do! But when I tried to ask, we made eye contact and...and I dunno, I got...shy.” Stanley mumbles, looking at his feet.

“Then ask her now...or ask her to dance. Tell me how it goes, okay?” Stanford shouts as he is ushered away by Preston.

Carla and Fiddleford are stuck at the guest book, looking over and teasing the many billionaires who were invited. Stanley takes a deep breath and as he begins his walk towards his friends, he is cut in front of by another boy. Much to Stanley’s horror, he asks Carla if she wants to dance. She says no, to Stanley’s relief but then another boy swoops in cutting in front of Stanley! He huffs, feeling discouraged and decides to wait it out by getting lost in the cheese fountain. Little to his knowledge, Carla says no to each boy, peering to Stanley every once in a while, hoping for him to come over. Fiddleford is extremely unimpressed with Stanley’s inaction.

“Yinno, Stanley, she wants to dance with you.”

“No she doesn’t, she’s talkin to all those boys.” He grumbles.

“She’s rejecting all those boys. All those stupidly rich high class boys.”

“What? Huh, I wouldn’t.” Stanley laughs. Fiddleford nudges Stanley with his elbow.

“Don’t make her wait too long, Stanley. She’s not gonna wait forever.” He points out as he strides back to Carla. Stanley shoves a spoonful of cheese into his mouth.

Meanwhile, Stanford and Preston are having less fun than the townsfolk waiting outside. Ford is unsure about what the best course of action should be for a spirit as vengeful and powerful as this large fiery lumberjack. As he and Preston run from the ghost, they discover the hidden room where Ford fortunately discovers the silver mirror. Stanford wants to celebrate shortly with Preston when the ghost is caught but Preston seems in a rush to leave the hidden room. Outside the manor, the ghost reveals the truth about the curse on the Northwest’s and Stanford is immediately enraged. Inside, Stanford confronts the Northwest’s about the truth.

“You’re no better than your parents, Preston.” Stanford glares. Preston momentarily loses his composure, but recovers quickly. Ford wasn’t expecting much of a reaction, but he wasn’t expecting to be even more disappointed by Prestons response.

“Yes, well, no matter how horrible you think I am, as a Northwest, I will always be better than you.”

Stanford briefly considers shattering the mirror, but simply sighs as he walks away defeated. Preston his patted on his back by his father, but watches Ford walk away with regret. Outside, the lumberjack convinces Stanford to hold the mirror to the forest and uses his flames to make him drop and break the mirror.

“Oh, great.”

Carla is surprised she can bored at the best party in the world. It would be a lot more fun if Stanley would talk to her. Every time they make eye contact from across the room he either turns away or runs to the snack table. Frustrated, she huffs and pushes her way through the line of suitors that have blocked her view of her friend. Stanley sees her coming and freezes like a deer in headlights. She’s so scary when she’s mad, but in a way that makes Stan blush.

“H-h-hey! Hi! Y-you come here often?” He winks.

“Stanley, you have cheese on your face.” She says and he quickly wipes away at his face.

“Yes.”

“Stan, why have you been avoiding me? I thought we came here together but you’re more interested in the snack table than me! Is it me? You don’t wanna hang out with me?” She shouts, causing a small scene.

“Wh-what? No! Carla! I...I just thought...” Stanley let’s out a sigh, “Look, I was gonna ask you to be my date before we got here, but I got scared. Then, I was gonna ask ya to dance earlier but all these boys started talking to ya. I thought maybe...you’d like to dance with some prince than...well, a stupid boy with cheese on his face.” He confesses. Before Carla can respond, the hall breaks into chaos with plates and furniture flying over everyone’s head.

“Oh! Dangit, Stanford! I stayed in the hall to avoid the paranormal activity! This is why we can’t have nice things, Ford!” Fiddleford shouts, ducking as a several plates fly pass his head.

Soon, the curse begins to take hold as the people in the hall begin to turn to wood. Stanford is distressed to see his friends and brother stuck in the positions they were last holding before the woodsman struck them with the curse. He immediately begs the Northwest’s to open the gates, telling Preston that he can still fix everything. Stanford is struck and is turned into a wood statue and Preston is left to decide the fate of his family. He is conflicted, knowing his hard earned trust will be lost completely with one action. He opens the gates anyways and the party guests spring back to life, gasping for air.

As the townsfolk flood the manor, Stanford gives Preston his friendly nudge.

“You did good, Preston.” He smiles.

“I know. These....people likely will be locked out next year, but...maybe that won’t be the case when I inherit the family fortune.” He shrugs as he walks back to his parents.

Stanford goes to find Fiddleford and does his best to calm him down, inviting him to explore the mansion only to be turned down. Fiddleford doesn’t want to run the risk of running into another ghost. Stanford opts for them to drown in the cider fountain instead and Fiddleford agrees happily. Meanwhile, Carla and Stanley are standing awkwardly side by side in the same place they had been since they were turned to wood.

“Wow, uh, we..uh...almost died.” Stanley bursts out.

“Yeaaahhh...we did.” Carla nods, looking away.

Stanley awkwardly and slowly reaches for her hand. “Do...you, uhm, do you..wanna dance?”

“Yeaaahhh...I do.” She says looking up at him and they both burst into giggles.

The four of them enjoy the rest of the party dancing, eating, and drawing on the occasional portrait. There is still more to come, however.

Ah yes. When a man who's been dead for well over 100 years is a better father figure than you.

Been awhile since I drew my Rich kids.

speedpaint!! also click the pick for a secret and because tumblr make it so fuzzy

Some Relativity Falls Pride!! First time doing this so I hope its fine.

i asked you first

update/redraw of this

give me a break