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The Trickster, The Fool, and The Lost Children

Harpy Hare Where have you buried all your children? Tell me so I say!

part 2 of this post

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The Storyteller

You can't keep them all caged They will fight and run away Mother, tell me so I say

Edit: Part 2 ;)

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Little Mymble and Joxter comic❤️

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here are my favorite moomin comic panels because why not

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Going through a bit of a moomin hyperfix renaissance

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he's fun to draw

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c!bedrock bros; YOU NEVER HAD A BROTHER. YOU HAD A PROTECTOR THAT NEVER GAVE YOU THE STARS. BUT HE LOVES YOU, MAYBE THAT WILL BE ENOUGH. (you still die anyways)

technoblade / @andhyssops / @borealiszero / warsan shire / @m4rms / anne carson /  rabbi joseph telushkin / @picckl / ernest hemingway / unknown / @vixkoidy / @aro-throughyourchest / i.b. vyache / @axiliern / jinhao xie

edit: the death in questioned referenced is tommy dying in prison, how maybe techno could have prevent that and not techno dying in real life 😭😭😭

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Banjo man

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-❤️🟡🟦-

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gave him a sandwich

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Gravity Falls was strange, and the townsfolk even stranger, it seemed.

The twins had been unceremoniously dropped off on the side of the dusty road, the roar of the bus engine fading away as the driver wordlessly drove off without fanfare. The poor man had almost seemed close to tears ever since they had entered the thresholds of this seemingly innocuous town, all too eager to speed off and away while leaving the two children coughing and wheezing in its dust.

It had not even been a full minute since their lackluster drop-off before they became well acquainted with the oddly sociable and irritatingly chatty inhabitants of Gravity Falls. A single conversation with a pair of boisterous policemen already told them all they needed to know about the history of the town, as well as the whereabouts of their Great Uncle Ford.

"The Mystery Shack," the townsfolk had called it. It seemed as though their distant uncle had earned himself somewhat of a reputation amongst the locals. He was the town cryptid; the ever elusive mad scientist that lived in the outskirts of town in this so called "Mystery Shack". No one really knew who he really was; but everyone knew exactly who he was.

So, when the twins found themselves stood hand in hand in front of the rickety old shack, they hadn't really known what to expect when door had swung open with a deafening slam.

He was a strange man, their Great Uncle Ford. He seemed nothing like the cackling looney lab-coated madman they had imagined from what meager hushed information the townsfolk had offered them. It seemed as though the tales of a scientist gone mad that experimented on stray children that wandered into his spooky "Mystery Shack" was but a cruel rumor.

He mostly just seemed unhealthy, to be honest. His sickly, pale frame utterly drowned in the thick red woolen sweater that practically seemed to hang off of his lanky body like a second flap of skin. It made him look almost child-like, like a kid trying on their parents clothes; which somewhat diluted the intimidating effects of his looming height.

Although, the townsfolk's apparent fear of their Great Uncle Ford seemed to have some merit.

For one, Grunkle Ford really didn't seem all too human. He wasn't inhumane, per se; just, not entirely himself, if that made any sense. Looking at him was like looking at an incomplete puzzle; or looking at someone who you remember all your life wearing a hat, suddenly coming to work one day without one, and it takes a little too long for you to remember what is missing.

It was like Grunkle Ford had lost pieces of himself. Somewhere, to someone. His eyes seemed... almost empty. They were a little too dull and a little too opaque, lacking the lively shine of life everyone else seemed to have.

Another thing was that Grunkle Ford wasn't entirely alone. There was... someone else. The twins couldn't exactly pinpoint where, but they could feel its stare, whatever or whoever it was. They could almost feel its stare, a non-existent eye trailing a weird prickling sensation across their skin. The twins recalled the words of one of the townsfolk, a tall bestacled man with haunted blind eyes; although unseeing they could have sworn his gaze never seemed to leave them, as all he said was:

"Don't catch IT staring at you"

The twins had an odd feeling that IT was looking at them right now.

They didn't even notice when the pale bony hand of Grunkle Ford suddenly reached into their personal space, barely registering his words at all, much less the extra fingers that adorned each of his rough, worn palms.

They didn't take the hand.

If the twins had thought the outside of the shack looked decrepit, the inside seemed somehow even worse.

Every inch of exposed wall, ceiling or floor were utterly covered by sprawling symbols, summoning circles, and indecipherable words that seemed to be in an entirely different language than any the twins knew. They overlapped and tangled into one another into big, messy, red splotches of clustered nothings.

There were notes, diagrams on ripped pieces of aged looking paper scattered everywhere, with hardly any room for post-it notes squeezed wherever there was room. Lit and unlit candles were placed absolutely everywhere; either hidden in the dark corners or openly stood in the middle of the floor; sometimes in a circle, sometimes not. The melted fallen wax had coagulated into a hard white mess onto the floor; the smell of cheap vanilla scented candles intermingling with the smell of halloween fake blood (and Dipper was convince there had to be some real blood there, too) to create a sour concoction that stung their noses unpleasantly.

The shack was sparsely furnished with rarely any furniture at all. Not even a couch, the tables and chairs simply pushed to the walls to make more space for the endlessly swirling symbols and pentagrams. The twins were hesitant of stepping on any of the summoning circles, carefully sidestepping the candles and walking over the line of the pentagrams.

The attic, where they would be residing, was not much better.

Maybe they did end up in a mad scientist's house, after all.

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This will probably be my last post about Murder Drones ever, but I really do love that the message of the finale is basically just…we should do more cringe things.

Liam Vickers is out here making a silly little robot show with no particularly deep or existential message (which half the fandom was expecting) and is instead smashing his characters together like dolls, making them anime fight with nightcore music in the background, and giving them fucked up to the point of ridiculousness character development/trauma, with the message that this is fun and lighthearted and that we should kill cringe culture and instead do more of what he’s doing.

And honestly? Go off king, that is a GREAT message to spread and a delightful subversion to what everyone was expecting for the finale. We SHOULD spend more time doing cringe things and making fanart and pop culture references and edgy OCs. You’re so correct that not everything needs to be deep or meaningful.

I know a lot of people are going to hate the finale for the lack of story, but honestly this show is just here to have fun and I’m rolling with that. Go be cringe and weird and free.

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They do this every year...

Happy 25th to Dipdop and Lebam!! and Happy 17th to Hatsune Miku!! 🎉🎉

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human(-ish) designs again, cute baby protags edition

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nefarious anglerfish

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Hi!! Could we get a cassandra and jr for requests?? :0 perhaps cass getting jr to try a soda for the first time hahaha, tysm!! <3

I thought about them all day.