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ok so being a parent IS really hard but not the way you think. well its probably hard the way you think but its ALSO really hard because my toddler pronounces peanut butter like "peepee yaya". and see, because he learns from me, i can't say "peepee yaya", no matter how much i want to, because i have to teach him that it is actually pronounced "peanut butter". and dont even get me started on how he pronounces "shaun the sheep" (shit the shit)

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oh my fucking god dude

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the dash is in tatters. please say something nice to the person you reblog this from. it's so sad to see you all so sad

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the most sibling dialogue of all time

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the dash is in tatters. please say something nice to the person you reblog this from. it's so sad to see you all so sad

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me: im sure ill be fine doing another all nighter, sleep isnt all that important anyway

my guardian angel (currently taking the form of skizzleman to try and get me to listen): hey buddeh, you know, rest is considered a basic need in maslows hierarchy of needs

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Grian sits on the edge of a desert cliff, watching the sunrise. His knuckles are bloody. He's had this dream before, and he's lived this moment before. He's awfully tired of it, honestly. He's not even particularly sad anymore. It's hard to be particularly sad, this long after, this much more between them.

But his knuckles are bloody again. There's someone sitting next to him.

"Joel?" he says, baffled.

"Yeah, hi, really weird bloody dreamscape you've got. Literally and figuratively: bloody hell. Like, Scott, he's got this pretty cottage and all these flowers and the single most terrifying version of Jimmy that I've seen in my life. Which serves him right, since he's a bastard, and I told him that. Or, uh, Pearl. She's normal. She's got dogs and... shit, I don't know--"

"Why are you here?" Grian asks.

"Oh, right, I was tasked with asking you if you regret it," Joel says.

There's a long moment of silence. The wind blows.

"I mean. No?" Grian says.

"Right? That's what I said! Blumin' stupid question, that!" Joel says.

"Wait, you mentioned--are you asking everyone that?" Grian asks.

"Yeah! It was all, oh, you've got a car, you can travel, it'll be all poetic like. You've had a 'character arc'--like I'm some, some fake guy--and grown as a person, everyone else has to, would they do things differently now? And I said, man, that's stupid. That's really stupid. But the glowing purple eyes guys--"

"Wait wait wait wait, the who?" Grian interrupts.

"Sorry, do you not know the glowing purple eyes guys? Martyn was acting like you're all buddies or something. Then I punched him. Because it was funny," Joel says.

"No, I know the--they asked you to do this?" Grian says. He takes a moment to try to imagine it. He has some trouble. Joel and the Watchers don't really belong in the same place at the same time for so many reasons that Grian doesn't know where to begin.

"Apparently, I'm not being serious enough," Joel informs Grian. "I kinda get it, actually. Like, everyone but Cleo has been somewhere like..."

Joel looks out over the cliff. It is tall, and Grian knows he cannot see the ground from the top. He had been able to during the actual games, of course, but these aren't the actual games; these are the memories of what brought him to victory, made manifest.

"So I guess I kinda wondered, since you lot always seem so blumin' sad about it," Joel finishes.

"I'm not really," Grian says.

Joel raises an eyebrow.

"I mean, maybe once, but--nah. Not really."

"Cool. That's the last one then," Joel says. "Hear that, weird glowing eyes guys? You act like I'm all weird or whatever but none of them regret it either. Not a single one of them."

Grian looks over the cliff again himself.

"None of us?" he asks, very quietly indeed.

Joel sighs. "All of you asked that too. I'm getting back in the bloody car."

Grian doesn't watch Joel leave. He rubs the blood off his knuckles and watches the sky instead. When he's tired thinking in circles about how he didn't really expect that he would be telling the truth, just then, he starts trying to imagine the trouble Joel might be giving everyone else instead. It's much more fun to think about than the sand that's getting in his socks. He's never able to get sand out of anything, these days, and it leaves him always just a little bit uncomfortable. Oh well; the price of being in a desert. He wouldn't be anywhere else if he had the choice, though, grit in his socks or not.

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therapist: cunt dracula is not real and cannot fuck you.

cunt dracula:

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saw a bekyamon stream notif and was intrigued so i clicked... what do you MEAN she just married her secret partner of TEN YEARS

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have we considered not encouraging streamers to call fans out on stream and lowkey harass them. have we considered that

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People making Life Series Scott a unicorn hybrid is so funny to me.

like is Joel killing him because he's a horse? hilarious implications.

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After he's done listening to the Archeologist's story, the Sheriff frowns.

"Well, that's not fair, is it?" Jimmy says.

"Fair?" Pix responds.

"Yeah, fair. It's not--it's not fair at all! You can't just end it with--they try to be friends for, for the first time ever. And the Codfather gets respect and the Count gets more mature. And they shake hands and, and share magic and stuff. But it turns out them being friends causes the end of the world? That's not fair! That's not a good story at all!" Jimmy says.

Pixlriffs shrugs. "I didn't make it up. It's what's been passed down, and the Ancient Capitol corroborates it to some extent. The Rapture was a very real event in the geological record, and what historical records survive from the Twelve Kingdoms era suggests at the very least some kind of symbolic rivalry between cod and salmon. Maybe a religious one? It's really all quite fascinating."

"Well, yes, but it's not really literal, that religion stuff, right?" Jimmy says. "I mean, uh, I don't know much about all this stuff, but it's like--don't tell Sausage, but Santa Pearla, she's not literal, right? She's like, the idea of the cycle of death and life and all that, but--"

"Recent excavations actually suggest that Empress Pearl was a real historical figure," Pixlriffs says excitedly. "I mean, it seems rather unlikely she caused all the fields in the Twelve Kingdoms to remain fertile until the Rapture on her own, but the number of statues and records we've found even today suggest that she was still a real person!"

Jimmy is silent. He crosses his arms and stares at Pixlriffs until, finally, Pix stops talking.

"It's still not fair," Jimmy says.

"It's not about being fair, it's about what actually happened," Pix says.

"Because the story as I told it went that they made friends to try to make the best of the rapture. And though all the rivers had dried up, the Codfather and the Count laid seeds in the desert, until one day we could go and build our towns there safe, because their seeds made a pond. And, er, that's not all literal either, you know? None of this is really--sorta like Joel is not literally a god, that'd be stupid," Jimmy says.

"Right," Pixlriffs says, nodding. "But we don't tell him that."

"But we don't tell him that," Jimmy agrees. "And I'm just saying that--it's not fair, saying that making up their differences is what made the world end. That's like, like if the moral was that we shouldn't bother even trying."

"I think you'll make yourself sad, looking for a moral in ruins," Pixlriffs says.

Jimmy swallows.

"That's stupid," he says. "That's stupid."

"That's life."

"And it's stupid. I'm going to go bother Joel."

"Good luck with that."

The Sheriff rides away. The Archeologist watches after him for a long time before sighing.

"...and good luck ending this one differently," he says, and he goes back to his dig.

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🍓 <3

baseball moot!! also really cool interests even if i don't fully understand it, i love learning about your guys

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gotta love that i haven't written anything i'm deeply proud of since october :/

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@mutuals send me a 🍓 and ill compliment u!

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it's kinda comforting to me when my friends are a little annoying or longwinded or abrasive or tired and inarticulate, or they don't do the exact politest thing in every interaction, and stuff, because I know I'm sometimes annoying, or take up a more than my share of conversational space, or forget to ask them questions, etc etc, and... like, I'm always working to be nice to my friends and to get better and better at friend-ing, but it just makes me feel more human about it :}

anyway I love you friends plz know I'm not counting, in fact I feel great affection toward you even (especially) when conversations go less than Perfectly Ideal

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To reiterate:

Trump's transphobic Executive Orders regarding healthcare and Federal documents are currently unenforceable and are not current actionable policy of the Federal government.

Do not despair.

Do not panic.

And most importantly: do not comply in advance.

Staying alive is a radical act as a trans person in Trump's America.