cam's 🌵

she/them • Portugal • INTJ • All rights reserved • Reposting is prohibited • DO NOT FEED MY ART TO AI • Bird enthusiast • YouTube, Instagram and Twitter: @captaingeek05 • Access all my socials here: https://captaingeek05.carrd.co

[captaingeek05]

📌!

Hi Tumblr! You can call me cam's (but my tag is captaingeek05 everywhere). I'm a portuguese fine arts student with a bachelor degree in drawing with a special interest in concept art and storyboarding. I mostly do fanart of my hyperfixation of the moment lolol. My art tag in here is #captaingeek05

These are the places you can find me in: ⬇️

🌵 Carrd

🌵 YouTube

🌵 Instagram

🌵 Twitter (no longer posting here, just doing RTs)

Stay tuned! :)

*This post will be updated along the way

[sunnylolli]

“A person who thinks all the time Has nothing to think about except thoughts So, he loses touch with reality And lives in a world of illusions.” - Alan Watts God I hope putting quotes here isn’t too 2015, but I’ve been listening to “Overthinker” by INZO non-stop drawing this and it just fits so well! That and “Oceans of Time” by MelodySheep…

[fosliie]

The end result of my own reckless impulsivity

[sunnylolli]

Thinking about them again - I love when people depict them resenting the other for not rekindling their contact by calling first, while they were both also actively not doing that.

[sunnylolli]

THE SCENARIO IF STANLEY DID HAVE THE COURAGE TO ASK FORD FOR HELP THAT TIME BEFORE HE GOES TO GRAVITY FALLS AND FORD IS SOMEHOW CONVINCED TO COME DOWN AND MAKE AMENDS????????????

[guinueosk5]

THIS ONE IS EMBARRASSING FOR ME, but I spent so much time to finish it... I can't complain.

[stephreynaart]

Free Spirits

[suwu1590]

A tale of two stan

[tearosepedall]

Somethings wrong with my Copy of Gravity Falls

[sunnylolli]

Some more oldies that I thought I would finish but never did!

The New Years one I drew thinking about his 30's and 40's, growing into the 90's, realizing it's New Years Eve 10 years after losing Stanford and getting that feeling of "Oh my god, there is no way he's still kicking." Mourning for Ford and then deciding actively to keep working on the portal due to sheer spite and delusion

[sunnylolli]

BTW the tv scene was a longer segment/animatic I had in mind to "Wish you were here" by Pink Floyd

And in the beginning of Stanley turning off his tv, that's the beginning of the song

The guitar chords and the nonchalant melancholy really got me and the slow vibes of his going about his life not because he loves living but because dying just seems like too much of a chore??

[ccaprrinth]

My contribution to dimensional dreams

@billfordzine

[spectra-bear]

Sometimes something simple could be really special, after all.

[leo-artista]

Don't need love when it comes in a bottle

[sunnylolli]

Apropos that Broadcast dimension au, I have kept this from you out of context, and will probably keep it out of context until I can think of how to put my thoughts into words.

But something I can tell you is that Stan's dream formatting changes throughout the story in my head! Like the more abstract, morose or emotion-heavy scenes are in my head either formatted quietly like this with attention to only the mundane or with attention to the full picture, where small details and gestures disappear in the scale?

I'll gather my thoughts some time after I've gotten my presentation tomorrow over with

[sunnylolli]

I've been thinking about this a lot recently, especially with all of you guys interpreting this to be for Stan's own funeral. I hadn't even considered that myself, but I am absolutely grabbing that idea and running with it, because that FITS. SO WELL, so thank you.

But I've been imagining Stanford dumping into the funeral ceremony, right after its conclusion. There aren't that many people. It's a warm spring afternoon, the sky is clear. The graveyard isn't a very big one, but it's a familiar one. If you look east, between the trees and some houses and slme streets, you can just barely make out the sea shimmering from the beach.

Stanford walks closer, apprehensive. The small gathering disperses and slowly starts to withdraw back to their cars and Stanford can make out Ma and Pa clearly staying behind by the gravesite together with Stanley. Filbrick clears his throat suspiciously. He adjusts his hat, he adjusts his glasses. He removes them to wipe them expertly on his sleeve before he puts them back on and announces that he's leaving. "Nothing more to bury. There's no point in standing around doing nothing."

Ma stays behind. Stanley stays behind as well. It's around this time Stanford intervenes in other dreams. It's the most effective way for him to get through the dreams and move onto the next one. Besides, it spares both Stanley and himself from too much unnecessary information being shared. Not that Stanford really minds, he's actually starting to get angry about the amount of things he's been kept in the dark about for so long, but he can... Understand why it was never shared. Even if he deeply, deeply wishes it was.

"How about we take a walk down to the beach, Stanford?" Stanford looks up in surprise, just for Stanley to stiffen up uncomfortably. "Sure thing, Ma." Stanford stares from a distance, shocked. Caryn places her hand on Stanley's back and they begin to walk.

Ma and Stanley end up on a bench, before the sidewalk gives way to sand and Stanford remains at a distance. Who on earth does Stanley think he is? Taking his name like that? Taking his life? And who did they bury? When did this farce begin? He needs to know. He has a right to know.

"Stanford." Ma says solemnly.

"Yes?" Stanley replies. Stanford frowns. Even after this many years apart, Stanley's still as good a parrot as ever. More gruff, but other than that it really isn't as noticeable a difference as Stanford had hoped it would be.

"Please forgive him. Stanley never meant for things to end up this way. All he ever wanted was for you two to make up."

Stanford feels the wind go out of him.

It's like the entire dream shifts. Coning in on just the people on the bench. As if everything stops mattering except for that conversation.

Stanley's leg starts to bounce, Stanford can practically feel it in the ground below him.

"Ma, can we not have this conversation right now?"

"If not now, then when?! You were both just young boys when he broke that project and look where it got you. 10 years apart and now you're never going to make that up, because you were both so stubborn and now your brother is buried and you're still not willing to talk about him?"

"Ma, it's not that easy-"

"I think it is."

"Yeah?! Well, maybe Stanley shouldn't have been so selfish! And immature! Maybe he wouldn't be dead if he just listened to me for once in his stupid, useless life!"

Ma leans back and away. Stanley leans forwards, his hands come up to his face and he remains like that for long enough that Ma rises from tve bench and leaves the scene. She disperses and disappears into the darkness. The cone of light still only shines on the bench and Stanley pulls off the gloves he's wearing and throws them across the beach angrily. Then he sighs tiredly.

"Are ya gonna join me or just stand over there like some kind of stalker?"

A cone of light sharply hit him and he's sitting on the bench. There's the sound of the waves crashing onto the shore further down. There's a gull screaming from above, all sounds he hadn't been aware of before. He doesn't know what to say. Stanley doesn't seem to know either, but he seems more willing to make the effort.

"Found what you're looking for yet?" Stan asks. Stanford opens his mouth, then closes it and starts over. He clears his throat, straightens in his seat.

"I'm afraid not. It seems I need to get further into the future before I'll start making any progress."

Stanley frowns, more than he already was. "You're looking for that, uh, portal you fell into, aren't you?"

Stanford nods. Stanley doesn't seem to like that very much. "Ya want me to think about that time you fell through it again? Because there is no way in hell I'm thinking about that right now."

Stanford remembers that dream very, very well. And as it turns out, going through the portal from Stanley's mind, means coming out on the other end to absolutely nothing. Stanley doesn't know what's on the other end, and Stanford's guessing he's refusing to imagine it, because with everything Stanford's seen Stanley being able to do with his own mind, he's pretty sure he could've thought up a lot of pretty good guesses.

Stanford shakes his head. "I already visited that dream. I guess I have to wait until you know more about it for it to work."

"Hmm... You don't sound too happy about that."

"Of course I'm not happy about it, Stanley! You're trying to start up a world ending death machine! You read all my warnings on it, you know what I think about it!"

Stanley waves him off with a grumble. "Yeah, yeah, who're you to stop me? You're in a, what was it, a dream-dimension?-"

"-Technically a broadcasting hub for dreams and other-"

"-So, a dream dimension."

"A gross oversimplification, Stanley, but... Yes."

Stanley laughs suddenly. He slaps his knee, points a finger and goes: "Geez, if I ever doubted whether you were real before, then I definitely believe you're real now!"

Stanford blinks owlishly. "You doubted whether I was real?"

"Are ya kidding? Of course I doubted if you were real. You're dressed weird, you're black and white and even when I was a kid, I woke up and you were right there with me - Without a clue what I was yapping about. Why should I have believed you were just in my head?"

"When did you change your mind then?"

Stanley's face falls and he looks sideways and away. It dawns on Stanford immediately.

"Kinda hard to write it off with all the weird things happening in Gravity Falls."

And after you were eaten by a giant portal, it's hard not to believe it. Stanford swallows. After a while, the anger snd resentment towards Stanley's he's fostered over the years have become more complicated. He knows Stanley has taken up working on the portal, he knows he's started touring his house for money, it's not hard to make the link to why he's now faking his death.

If it wasn't because Stanford at every opportunity has been urging Stanley to drop it and leave. Take the journal, and leave. Stanford's already made his peace with things being as they are.

"Look, I'm..."

Stanford looks back up. He must've gotten lost in thought. Stanley's bowing his head, wringing his hands. "I'm sorry about that project, six."

And he sounds it. Stanley sounds sorry. Maybe it's because it's a dream. Maybe there's still some doubt about the reality of everything. Or maybe it's money stress, or the echo of Ma pleading with them to make up. Maybe it's all of it.

Stanford is surprised none the less. Up until this point, he can't think of a single moment he's ever imagined he'd be hearing that apology. And now, upon hearing it, he realizes he's never considered whether he'd feel ready to forgive or not.

Stanley isn't looking at him. There are the tell tale tufts of gray interspersed with the brown of his hair. There are lines and old scara on his face that Stanford never noticed before. Stanley's been through a lot, Stanford thinks. He's seen a lot of it, has refused to think about much of it. And Stanley is apologizing for ruining his high school project. While living in the proof that Stanford made it regardless.

"Thank you, Stanley..."

Stanley almost jumps. A bodily jerk that screams out that he did not expect that response. He keeps wringing his hands.

"Yeah."

[beccadrawsstuff]

twin brothers are unbearable actually

[cunning-and-cool]

idk man but something about Stanley "taught himself extremely advance physics/math/probably many other things while running a relatively successful business" Pines and Stanford "is wanted in almost every dimension with a judicial system of some kind" Pines is sooo fucking funny to me

[sunnylolli]

"Hey, uh... You don't happen to know anything about a maniac freak of nature going around wanting to steal your eyes, do ya?"

Or -- what if Bill did send someone to steal Stanford's eyes? And what if said creature mistook Stanley for Stanford, and began to target him instead? Early reunion, without a postcard, and Stanley already knowing about Stanford's problem being supernatural, would mean Stanford would be more likely to reluctantly let Stan in on the whole deal with Bill thing???

And what if I offer you these songs for your consideration as well because I've had both on repeat since this morning and it is now 7:30 pm.

Preludin Fugue by Eric Clapton Cold Turkey by Eric Clapton

[someoddwritings]

I love this art so much, I couldnt help writing a little something for it. The idea grabbed my brain and wouldnt let go. Enjoy!

Stanley staggered into the phone booth, the hand not clutching his bleeding side landing on the phone box to steady himself. When he pulled it away to fumble for change in his pocket, it left a bloody red smear.

“Shit.” He huffed, blood trickling out of his nose and over his mouth.

He wiped it away with an already bloody sleeve. He couldn’t do anything about his ruined shirt, let alone the stupid phone box. He’d liked this shirt too. Shoving red-smeared coins into the slot left even more streaks of blood on the box as they clinked down. His eyes drifted up to the emergency number printed just above the coin slot and he couldnt help the laugh that wheezed out of him and jolted his side.

It was an emergency all right, but he probably needed a priest instead of a cop. Besides, he already knew guns didn’t work against the-the thing that had chased him down and tried to take his fucking eyes.

He glanced through the walls of the phone booth, searching the darkness for any signs of the thing following him. He was pretty sure he’d lost it, but there was always a chance it could smell his blood or something equally terrifying. He groaned as he realized he’d leaned against the phone box at some point. Peeling away, he grimaced at the new blotch of red next to the number keys and the concerningly large puddle that had collected on the little shelf.

“Well that’s not good.”

But whatever. He could deal with the whole bleeding-out thing after the call. Stan carefully hit the numbers he had memorized, grabbed the phone, and let himself slide down to sit on the floor of the booth. As it rang in his ear, he adjusted and tightened his grip on his side, breath hissing between his teeth at the fresh wave of pain.

Moses, Ford better answer the fucking phone. He probably doesn’t have enough change to try again and they needed to talk-now.

After scanning the darkness again, his eyes drifted up to the now blood-splattered phone box as he waited impatiently. The bloody hand-shaped smears looked straight out of a horror movie, jarringly contrasted by cheery yellow graffiti for whatever “Sunny Lolli” was.

When had his life become a fucking horror movie?

“Who is it?” Ford’s harsh voice yanked him out of a fog he hadnt realized he’d slipped into. He was momentarily speechless at the unusual greeting. He’d called dozens of times over the years and Ford had always answered the same way: “Dr. Stanford Pines speaking,” In calm or distracted or sometimes annoyed tones.

He took too long to respond as Ford growled, “You-stop calling me! I’m in no mood for pranks and I swear if you call this number again I’ll-“

“Stanford. It’s me.” Stan’s heart hammered against his chest at the admission. It was stupid, he’d called for something important this time, but it was still hard to force the words out.

“…Stanley?”

He forced a chuckle, grin pulling tight as it jostled his wound again. “Yeah, uh, long time no see huh?” He heard Ford take a breath and rushed to speak before he could start yelling at him and derail the whole thing. “You don’t happen to know anything about a maniac freak of nature going around wanting to steal your eyes, do ya?”

From Ford’s sharp inhale, it seemed like he did know. Which was good and bad. Bad because someone threatened to take his brother's fucking eyes, but good that Ford was at least aware of the threat.

“How-how do you know about that?” Ford’s voice wobbled, aiming for accusatory but landing somewhere in scared instead.

“How do you think?” Stan breathed out more shakily then he’d like, “Some fucking monster came out nowhere, lunged for my eyes, and called me Stanford.”

The scratches over and around his left eye throbbed. He’s lucky they werent deep enough to rip through his eyelid, but blinking was a real pain at the moment. Still, he searched the darkness for any hint of movement or inhuman outlines, glancing over his shoulders too. Couldn’t be too careful.

“No-I-that’s impossible! He wouldn’t-couldn’t-make that kind of mistake. This is a trick and-and I wont fall for it!” Ford stumbled over his words, sounding desperate.

“It’s not a trick, Sixer, I-“

“Don’t call me that.” Ford growled.

Stan hissed in a breath, “Stanford, please. Tell me what’s going on. Who put a hit out on you? Whatever trouble you’re in, I can help.”

It felt like a lie. He was already so out of his depth with that one fucking monster, bleeding out on the floor of a disgusting phone booth. But there was no way in hell he’d leave Ford to deal with this alone. He just needed some information and Ford had to know what he was dealing with, right?

“Go back to the hell dimension I summoned you from, Bill.” Ford spat and the line went dead.

Stan was frozen for a long moment. Then he let his arm drop, watching the bloody phone tumble out of it onto the also bloody floor.

He released a deep breath, leaning his head back against the wall of the booth. “I guess that could have gone worse.”

At least he’d gotten some information. Ford knew about the threat. Had probably been tricked into the whole situation. Knew the guy who put a hit out on him. Someone named Bill, possibly from a hell dimension.

Stan groaned “I swear to god, if Ford summoned a fucking demon I’ll kill him myself.”

Maybe he’d need to see a priest after all. It wouldn’t be too hard. There were plenty of churches between here and Oregon. Probably some temples too.

But first he had to make sure he didn’t bleed out like an idiot.

[sunnylolli]

Okay, so this was absolutely amazing and I am looking SO HARD at your tags to wanting to expand this. I am INVESTED, because what do you MEAN STANFORD HUNG UP??? That's. Oh my god, what does Stan do now???

Where does he go?? Where's the eye snatcher?? Aaaaug, I LOVE THIS.

Also making Stan acknowledge my subtle graffiti-way to sign my art made me giggle, I didn't expect that at all, teehee