#AND THEY'RE ALL GOOD WITH KIDS AND ANIMALS TOO

[blaire-beast]

Main 3 of my story :]

Dip pens are so awesome istg

Also rebloggs are highly appreciated!! I'd love to get more of my oc content out there, they're my pride and joy

Story explained below, please leave some feedback if you take the time to read it!!

So, top to bottom: Eden, Silas and Chaos(all more or less any pronouns, Eden goes mostly by she/her and Chaos and Silas by he/him)

Eden is the daughter of the sun god and another dragon (not a god but she's viewed as the moon) and she grew up alone with her mom Eskar up in the mountains shielded from everything that was going down in the outside world. She goes off to find out what happened to the gods who disappeared around 100 years ago as a young adult and ends up having to save the world after dying and waking up the sun god

Chaos is half roach half person and he grew up in a cult away from society under the hand of a fake god (cancer taking the form of something and trying to get people to join her cult so that she may consume the whole world one day). Said "god" calls herself Visha and is the main villain of the story and he had to be her right hand and do all of her dirty work for most of his life. He met Eden when Visha took notice of her traveling through her forests and made Chaos set up some sort of camp out in the desert promising to teach magic and let people speak with the gods. The two got very close and eventually fell in love which caused him to freak out and urge Eden to pack her things and go before "she" finds out, unfortunately he left earlier than her cause he couldn't say goodbye and eden followed him up to his lab where she saw the eldritch horror and had to fight it as she used chaos as a puppet and in the end had to be put out of her misery due to her injuries and the very real possibility of getting tortured till the end of the world if Visha got her hands on her

Silas is the son of a very rich harpy woman and a monkey person (don't have a name for them yet aaaa), along with his brother Elias. They grew up rich but his brother is selectively mute and was a really emotional kid so everyone in their family treated him as some sort of animal who stained their image and so they only gave silas an education. His dad was a dragon hunter up until the day he was attacked and killed by a "dragon" which is when silas had to step in and fill in his role even tho he was really inexperienced in everything that came with it and deep down he did not want to kill or hurt anything for that matter. He goes off to the desert a year or two after running into eden thinking that she's the one who killed his dad and using it as an excuse to finally get away from his family. Eventually he is rescued by her after his attempts to survive out in the wilderness fail miserably and they live together in the desert till eden is badly injured and has to be rushed to the nearest town for immediate help

Eden and Silas end up moving in together while eden tries to do more research on the gods and the weirdness around the sudden disappearing and chaos' situation degrades as he falls deeper into grief and Visha gets more violent and aggressive. Eventually him and eden run into each other at a festival in the town square and after a bit of freaking out and avoiding each other they talk and eden starts putting the pieces together

There's a bit of back and forth with chaos not being able to reveal much in fear of being watched but eventually they run into each other in an old temple both looking for anything that might give them more info on the gods and in the midst of a very sad embrace visha materializes out of nowhere to formally introduce herself to eden and to kill her for good since at that point she knew way too much. The fight doesn't go her away and upon realizing that eden knows how to use fire really well and could easily burn her to a crisp and undo months of work she goes full flesh monster and breaks one of the pillars holding everything together trying to burry her alive. Eden manages to escape last minute and chaos is left to wake up back at the cult surrounded by mangled bodies and a very hungry and very angry visha

Eventually she goes into a sort of deep hibernation for like a year to conserve her strength after being sure that she scared chaos into submission (she didn't) and while she's not there to keep an eye on everything he goes to eden and silas' place and proceeds to explain everything and then probably faint. At that point in the story he'd be very sick with the same cancer that the gods suffered from quietly and his state would only degrade from then on as they wake them all up and prepare for a final confrontation with the flesh monster

Him and eden wake her up and fight her, he ends up immobilizing her with an old powerful spell so that eden can channel the wrath of her god parent and burn her to an absolute crisp, loosing her right arm in the process

Chaos is caught in the fire and comes out of it alive and better than he ever was, realizing that he's more or less a manifestation of the magic that's in every living thing and that Visha only stayed alive cause she could feed on him (she can only really feed on magic stuff, she started out as a disease that the gods of life and death got after fighting each other and sharing blood)

That's mostly it! There's a lotttt of bits and pieces but i thought it was about time i shared the full story somewhere

Either way thank you all for the support so far!! Tumblr has been genuinely wonderful

Here's an old animatic i did about it

[ilikecrocssuckit]

BG3 Headcanons No One Asked For (ilikecrocssuckit edition)

Inspired by the wonderful series by @grenanigans

This episode: Each companion at the movie theater!

Astarion

Gets Hot Tamales candy or other cinnamon one just because it allows him to feel some semblance of warmth.

Pretends to like horror movies. Actually finds them deeply troubling and triggering but he'll be twice-damned if he shows that.

Chronic hater of every movie ever.

Gale

Rather disgusted by theater concessions. Still buys the biggest popcorn because he knows it's how they make money.

Seeks out the artiest and most pretentious films possible. Donates to the Baldur's Gate film festival and submits to it every year specifically to support such films.

Meticulously crafts his Letterboxd reviews after every screening.

Karlach

Wants to get a shushy but they always melt too fast so she never bothers anymore. Settles for popcorn, nachos, and 3 hot dogs.

Genuinely loves horror movies and finds Ghostface, Art the Clown, and Michael Myers attractive. Mostly though, she just loves being at the movies.

Cheers and laughs and generally reacts enthusiastically when the movie calls for it. She always cleans up after herself if she spills though.

Lae'zel

Rarely eats at the theater until she learns that they make money off of concessions, then follows Gale's lead because she finds the fact that they don't make money doing the thing they're designed for reprehensible.

Mostly just fascinated by the fact that movies exist and people put effort into creating them. Deeply interested in the filmmaking process and specifically looks for Blu-Rays with extensive behind the scenes features when she likes the movie. Treasures her Lord of the Rings Extended Editions for this reason.

Obsessively watches those "Expert Breaks Down Scenes From Movies and TV" videos because she wants to know where her favorite things succeed and fail so she can write letters to those responsible in the crew.

Shadowheart

Loves the Good & Plentys or other licorice candies. Doesn't like popcorn. Gets an obnoxiously large drink though and almost always beelines for the bathroom after the movie's over or sometimes during. Relies on Lae'zel to fill her in afterwards because Lae'zel won't speak during the movie itself. This has caused her to be confused about major plot points on multiple occasions.

Loves the horror movies that even make Karlach squirm. The really extreme horror ones that get like a one or two night release or get shown at the grindhouse that Orin frequents. Also has a soft spot for family dramas and romantic comedies but she'll never suggest them as something to go see.

Genuinely fails to see the point of theaters in the age of streaming [Editor's note: Yes, I do hate this about her.] Still goes because it makes Lae'zel happy.

Wyll

Buys a big slushie and puts it in Karlach’s cup holder. Gets a modest popcorn for himself.

Doesn't particularly have a lot of preference for what they watch. Usually just lets it all soak in. Has a penchant for swashbuckler epics though, and secretly keeps his eye out for rereleases of some of the classics. Sad there are hardly any made anymore.

Has the theater membership so everyone else can get cheaper tickets. Is happy to help his friends be more social and get out of the house.

Bonus

Halsin

Has a kink about sex in the back of the theater. Rarely gets to indulge. Sometimes goes to whatever the biggest R-rated bomb of the weekend is with his date so he can do so.

Jaheira

Exclusively sees children's and family movies with her wards and Minsc. Too busy otherwise. Maintains an encyclopedic knowledge of them regardless.

Made the mistake of thinking animation=kid-friendly only once.

Minsc

Only goes when Boo is excited for a movie or when asked by one of Jaheira's wards.

Boo loves to watch space sci-fi to laugh at the inaccurate aliens. Still appreciates practical effects of them though. Minsc just enjoys explosions and cool spaceships.

Wishes someone would make a movie about him. He would absolutely be banned from the set for being too nitpicky.

[we-stan-the-stans-27]

Sleeping Beauty AU?

@sixerstanley Here had this HUGE big brain idea and I immediately sprung into action to write a little something about it.

Basically, they read a merlin fic where a spell made it seem like Merlin was dead, but he was basically asleep and aware of everything going on. Arthur was not having a good time. (trauma and pain ensues) I'm going to replicate it, based on the idea alone.

(Also, I had no idea this would turn into an almost 4k oneshot, oops! Color me inspired, I guess! I can do this, but not my actual fan fiction. LMAO!)

Suffer with me. (JK, enjoy. XD )

For the first time in weeks, Ford had allowed himself a full night's rest downstairs. Why not reward himself, just this once? The rift is sealed, the universe is safe, and things are slowly getting back to normal. Or as normal as they get in the pathetic excuse for what used to be his home.

Ford still has a hard time calling it what it is, 'The Mystery Shack' is a little on the nose, isn't it? The exhibits are hardly anything close to a mystery. They're botched taxidermy projects.

Insults. That's what they are.

A slap in the face to his life's work.

Whatever, that's not his problem right now. Coffee is the first order of business.

It's early and no one else is awake, but the coffee pot is still hot with a fresh pot. One cup appears to be missing. Stanley must be awake then.

Ford takes his time pouring the life-bringing liquid into his favorite cup (it is amazing Stanley didn't break it or lose it after all these years) and adding in ample sugar, and a dash of cream for color.

He adds a single ice cube to cool it faster, listening to the sounds of the house. It's silent, too quiet.

Ford can't help that even in a peaceful environment it puts him on edge.

The TV is off and a walk through the living room reveals Stanley isn't sitting on the couch. The first-floor bathroom light is off, door is slightly ajar, but empty.

That's weird.

He really shouldn't be looking for his brother anyway since the only good that will do is start another fight. It's too early for that.

Ford settles back in the kitchen, hovering near the window and sipping his cup watching the clock on the wall tic on. Minutes pass.

The silence is no longer just putting him on edge, it's sounding alarms.

Why? There is nothing dangerous here in the house, they are perfectly safe here now that Bill has been dealt with.

What then?

To put his own stupid mind to rest he leaves the empty cup in the sink and goes upstairs to the attic, checking on Dipper and Mabel.

They are both still fast asleep in their beds. Dipper, drooling on his pillow with half the blanket on the floor. Mabel, hair stuck up in all directions, clutching one of her many stuffed animals like it might try to escape.

Waddles is here too, curled up on its makeshift bed on the floor.

He stays just long enough to ensure they are all breathing, and sleeping soundly, before noiselessly going back downstairs.

The second floor is as empty as the first, including Stanley's poor excuse for a room. It is a mess of half-packed boxes, several trash bags, and the always-unmade bed.

Soon enough the house will be normal again.

Stanley will be gone, the kids will go home- (Perhaps they'll visit again next summer? It's a shame Dipper can't stay) and the Mystery Shack business will be over forever.

This once secluded corner of the valley will be that way again, his haven away from prying eyes. And tourists.

With the interior of the house cleared that only leaves the yard and porch.

Ford makes his way out onto the one Stanley finds the most use out of and the worry he hadn't realized to be carrying vanishes. There he is, sitting back dead asleep on the disgusting couch. How old is that thing? It appears to be growing several kinds of mold along the bottom because of the constant rain this region gets.

One hand is barely holding onto Stan's coffee cup, the arm of the couch holding it up while its owner sleeps.

"Seriously, Stanley? Being old doesn't give you an excuse to sleep anywhere, much less flash the local wildlife in little more than boxers." It's a good dig, in his opinion, and he speaks loud enough to rouse Stanley despite how hard of hearing he has become over the years.

Except no quick response comes.

Stanley doesn't so much as twitch in his spot on the couch.

The fear comes back-

Oh, don't be ridiculous!

"Very funny, Stanley." He lets the door close, quietly, before moving to stand in front of his brother, hands on either hip.

He looks, really looks, at Stan.

And sees nothing good.

The first notable, and most concerning finding, is that his brother isn't breathing. He waits, watching, assuming this to be a breath hold.

A joke.

But that isn't the only concerning evidence. Stanley's eyes are also halfway open, looking over the yard. Empty.

Not funny anymore, very much NOT funny!

Ford does not panic, not yet. He moves and picks up the cup, plucking it out of his brother's hand- It lacks any strength, like taking a toy from a child.

"Stanley? Wake up. Very good joke, you got me. Stop it now." He kneels on the couch, next to him, after setting the cup aside on the porch by their feet.

For the second time since coming home, Ford touches Stanley. This time with a kinder hold, reaching up to press two fingers along the pulse point between the jaw and collar bone, off to the side of the Adam's apple.

Nothing.

'One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten-'

He could count on one hand the number of times true panic has overtaken him in his lifetime. It isn't a luxury one can often afford when coming face to face with death constantly in the multiverse-

But what harm can come of it when someone is already dead?

His hand stays right where it is, tucked into the still-warm skin-

"No, this isn't funny-" But Ford's voice shakes and he snatches the hand away quickly. If he can't feel the lack of pulse, it's not there. Simple.

How didn't he notice? When did this happen?

What happened?

No- Ford turns, looking around the peaceful yard. Dew covers the grass, the sun peaked up about half an hour ago basking the clearing in pink and yellow hues.

There isn't any blood.

Death is messy. He has seen it countless times, but it is never, ever, peaceful. Knives, guns, cracking bones, broken bodies...

Looking back at Stanley none of that is present. The skin is still pink, and warm, eyes open but- Dead.

No. That can't be. It just can't.

Stanley looks almost peaceful, asleep. His coffee, barely a sip or two taken from the looks of it. "No."

Panic takes many different forms. Initially, instinctively, Ford looked for the cause. It had to be someone, something, who did this. Who took his brother?

But there is nothing, no one, in sight. No blood.

"Stanley, who-" His feet stop, body stalling, in the middle of turning back from the yard to look at the corpse...

He had been about to ask, to question who did this. But a dead body can't answer. A dead body, a corpse.

There is a distinction between a vessel and a person, or so Ford had always thought.

Everyone dies and until then you live inside and pilot your body. Someday, it becomes a corpse and you leave it behind.

That is such a cold and callous way to look at it, in retrospect. Because this, is Stanley. He's just- Gone.

With quick hands, Ford begins looking, almost in a frenzy, for the cause.

No blunt force trauma to the back of the head. No perforations to the abdomen, arms, nothing. There is nothing.

But that's not possible, people don't just-

Except they do. Sometimes-

No. NO! Not them, not him! Stanley Pines wouldn't just die, not without a fight!

Death doesn't play favorites, anyone can go, anytime-

"Shut up! No, he wouldn't! He wouldn't leave me!" It comes out in a shout and shakes him.

It wasn't supposed to end like this.

He never allowed himself to think very far into the future, how could he? Everything was always changing and it was better to live in the now anyway. So long as you were safe now, other things could be handled later-

Except later doesn't always wait for you to be ready. Time has its own plans and you have to work around it or something-

Stanley wasn't supposed to die. Isn't! he can't be-

Except-

There are no obvious injuries, but then again there don't have to be. They may not be old, but they're old enough. Brain aneurysms take hold suddenly, killing the affected almost instantly.

Leaving barely enough time to set down a cup of coffee-

Or a heart attack?

No, Stanley would have come inside, asked for help-

Wouldn't he?

"You idiot!" It comes out in a hiss from where Ford has shifted. He's kneeling right next to Stanley, hand on either shoulder, looking at his half-open but- Dead. Dead eyes. Empty. Gone.

Soulless.

Ford isn't sure who he's talking to. Himself? or Stanley? Both?

"I would have helped you, we could have called someone, I-" He has to pull away, sinking down into the empty space of the couch to hide the tears springing up without permission.

This can't be happening. Things weren't supposed to end like this-

Oh yeah, how was it supposed to go then?

With you, kicking him out next week? Leaving him homeless, again, just like Pa?

"Stop it! I don't know, not like this!" Stanley was always the stronger between them, persevering through everything no matter what happened.

Is this my fault?

What a stupid question.

It forces him to sit up again, one hand covering his face while half peering out at Stanley.

Of course it is. What did you expect? That he would take his life being uprooted lying down?

Did he do this on purpose?

In the rush to pick up the cup of coffee Ford almost knocks it over but finds he can't hold it without spilling some of it over the sides, down onto the porch, anyway. He is left with no choice but to set it back down to avoid wasting the sample.

Maybe.

Ford takes both a physical and mental step back, leaning against one of the columns holding up the roof over the porch, to look around.

Breathing is getting a little more difficult, coming in tight short inhales and smaller and smaller exhales.

What better way to get back at me? Thirty years of a life spent learning math, science, and engineering skills well beyond any normal human's comprehension, for what?

To get a brother back who first chance he got told him to pack it up and get out?

"What kind of brother am I?"

The kind who would rather be right than-

Then apologize. Forgive. Make up. Let go.

And now, it's too late. The train left the station, Stanley is gone, and its all my fault.

"He died thinking I hated him." That realization is what breaks the decade-old dam, tears finally escaping. Ford closes the distance, sitting on the stupid couch and pulling Stanley over into a hug, even if he's not here to feel it.

The lack of strong, still buff, arms encircling him, returning the sentiment only makes him cry harder into the thin and crappy tank top Stanley must have worn to bed.

"I'm sorry." He chokes out between sobs, "I thought I'd have more time, you'd have more time. I didn't think- How could I?" Nothing he's saying is making much sense.

The ramblings of a heartbroken lunatic.

As if we really deserve to be upset, like you'd of cared if it wasn't life or death-

Maybe his own thoughts are right. If Stanley had been alive, sitting here, having his morning coffee they would have traded morning insults before going their separate ways.

But that's not the reality they live in. This one is much worse, much darker.

I spent so much time running away, trying to break apart, and be unique. No longer part of a broken pair, or what I saw as one, I-

"I never expected to miss it when the other half was gone." He is still shaking, refusing to let go, with thoughts still scrambled in a million different directions.

CPR wouldn't do any good now, although it's a nice thought. If Stanley came out here directly after preparing his coffee then that was almost twenty minutes ago, give or take-

Oh god. What about the kids?

Without letting go Ford checks the time on his watch, wincing. A few hours at most, but he'll have to call the coroner-

What does he do?

For the first time, possibly ever, Ford feels lost.

Not only because his twin is currently dead, which is already world-ending, but everything that comes with it.

Who does he say the corpse belongs to? Stanley Pines has been dead for decades-

Is that why he did this? So that Ford could slot right back into his old life, fixing the broken and shattered history? No. This had to be an accident-

Only the testing of the coffee will confirm it or not.

Ford has never had to stick around and deal with a dead body before. Moving on was easier, and necessary. He can't remember attending a funeral, other than their great aunts when they were barely seven.

That's not the same. He'll have to make arrangements, put together pictures, and give a speech-

About a life he knows nothing about.

"God, I'm sorry Stanley. I'm so sorry." It feels safe to let his voice break here. No one is around to see how completely destroyed he feels. "All you ever did was love me, and I pushed you away. I crushed it, refused, and now..."

"Now you're gone. I can't even remember the last time I told you that I love you, but I do. So much, more than I could ever handle." Ford can't let go, but he does shift back to look at his brother's face, holding his limp body with one hand and clearing his own tears with the other.

"For what it's worth, I'm glad I'm here. Thank you, for bringing me back." He has to close his eyes, fresh tear tracks spilling across both cheeks, "Even if only so I could say goodbye. I'm glad I got that, at least. If only you were here-"

With a broken voice, Ford can't stand looking at Stan like this anymore. He reaches up, closing both eyes with feather-light fingers, before leaning close to press them forehead to forehead. Just like when they were young. Before everything.

It's odd. How fast do corpses cool? Not that Ford is going to complain. It lets him pretend, just for a few more moments, that Stanley isn't gone. That they could have this again.

Too little, too late.

"I love you, Stanley." It comes out broken and cruel, like the universe is mocking him. What was the point in protecting them from Bill if death came knocking anyway?

For the first time since coming home, Ford understands.

Finally, he can see why Stanley wasted so much of his life trying to bring him back. Because he loves so much, so big. To his own detriment.

He would do anything, even destroy the world, to have Ford by his side again.

"I'm so sorry, you deserved so much better." How different could things of been?

What would Stanley of done instead? Gotten married? Had kids?

A better family, that's for sure.

Ford knows he can't stay here forever. He needs to let go, head inside, and make some phone calls. To tell Soos to close the shack for the day, get an ambulance to bring Stanley to the morgue.

He needs to prepare for when the kids wake up and figure out what to tell them.

But first, he indulges himself a little bit more by leaning forward and pressing a kiss to Stanley's lips. It smells of coffee, cigars, and denture cream, but Ford can't detect any sort of drug or chemical from close proximity alone. It's nice.

Not what you'd expect from a corpse, but it's enough.

A goodbye, a real one in a weird broken way. Just their luck.

The absolute last thing Ford expects, upon starting to pull away, is to feel the body still pressed very tight to his own take in a very deep breath followed by Stanley's discarded hands coming up to grab at him.

"Stanley!" His voice is still broken, mixed with anger and joy in a typhoon of confusion.

And Stanley? He has the nerve to laugh!

"Don't think you're walking away from that so easily!" No longer locked inside his own body without the ability to do anything it's a relief to be able to breathe. But even better, he can pull Ford over on top of his lap, locking one leg in place against the side of the couch.

"Excuse me! I thought you were dead! What the fuck, Stanley! You can't just go around pretending to be dead to mess with people! What if the kids had found you, or Soos, or Wendy?! You would have scared them half to death, you scared me half to death!"

Truly, it's a complicated story. One Stan is pretty sure Ford doesn't want to hear right now when his mind is running a mile a minute.

He has other things that need to be said instead of explaining whoever that weird wizard was who came out of the forest.

Forcibly Stanley grabs Ford's face, bringing him down so they are face to face again, leaving no room for argument in their close proximity. "Shut up, will you?"

Being locked in was sort of a blessing because participating in the conversation is so much harder than he thought it would be moments ago. He steals his nerves anyway, "I love you too, I'm not dead, and I'm pretty sure forty years should have made you a better kisser than that. Otherwise, I've got my work cut out for me. Try again."

By now Ford's face is bright red both out of anger at being tricked and embarrassment at their current position. But Stanley's hands are no longer weak, holding him tightly in place. Not that he seriously wants to argue anyway.

Stan waits, but the longer Ford stares, the more unsure he becomes. Maybe he misunderstood? Or maybe Ford just has a thing for corpses and now that he isn't one, the interest is gone.

Fair enough, Stan knows he isn't much to look at. Age wasn't as kind to him as it was to Ford. All lean muscles, few wrinkles, and barely greying hair. It's stupid, really.

It would be hypocritical to go right back to being mad, wouldn't it?

Just because Stanley isn't dead now, doesn't mean he won't be next time. Or the time after that.

Anything could happen.

Ford knows he should pull away. They should talk about what the hell just happened. He should move off his brother's damn lap!

Or, he could give in to the very thing he's spent two-thirds of their lives running from. The details and tough conversation can be hashed out later, right?

It's the hold on his jaw loosening that yanks Ford out of his spinning thoughts back to the present. Stanley is pulling away, looking down-

How long was he lost in thought? It couldn't have been more than twenty seconds. Did he change his mind? No, then why does he look so-

Well. Stanley looks the same as he always does.

Oh. Briefly, for a few seconds, Stanley was being brave. He opened up and showed his hand. Let himself be vulnerable.

Idiot!

His hands had never fully left Stan's shoulders, but he tightens their grip now, shifting one up to cup along the underside of his jaw. He doesn't feel the need to say anything, because neither of them has ever really been good with words.

He leans down, surprising them both, with a much more insistent kiss.

A hello. And maybe? A new beginning.

[kaen-ace-of-diamonds]

the smallest and saddest club in the universe

[plushie-lovey]

FINALLY!! At long last, I've gotten my hands on a Pumpkin Kitty, after a whole year of wanting and waiting.

Her name is Latte! (Short for Miss Pumpkin Spice Latte) You can also call her Miss Spice!

[sp00ky-scary]

I need them to make more shows for teens, specifically animated shows, because I'm 19 and don't have an interest in like 80% of adult shows but I also feel like if I spend anymore time consuming a lot of media made for kids under 13 my brain is gonna melt and start pouring out of my ears

[bayofwolves]

i was on the most random nostalgia kick and rewatched the prince of egypt yesterday and let me just say... that movie is truly one of the greatest animated films of all time.

[pa-pa-plasma]

one of the things that will always destroy me is people believing that good story = darker/more mature/more sexual. this belief has ruined so many stories that could have been amazing & has prevented almost everyone from enjoying other really good stories simply because the age range it's aimed at is one they believe can't have complex themes, characters, plot, etc etc. they don't believe they can be moved by something a publisher or studio decided is for kids & so write it off without even thinking about it. biggest curse of being a writer who actually loves stories & telling them is that literally no one else cares in the most pessimistic, higher-than-thou, capitalism brainrot way you can imagine. & it's all automatic. because that's just what you're taught.

[sskk-manifesto]

\\

[dark-night-star-light]

Breaking my silence to say: Shane and Abeke were never romantic to me.

[guinevereslancelot]

most fucked up thing at my new job is there's only zero calorie sweeteners at the coffee station in the break room. three different kinds of zero calorie sweetener but no regular sugar because the assumption is that literally everyone is on a diet?

[tiercel]

The absolute insanity of warrior cats fans being the one saving grace of a niche book nobody wouldve cared about if not for the vast amounts of children and young adults who learned how to draw, write, and animate purely out of passion for this series only to be spit on by the creators because their support has allowed them to buy “Official” animations 

[sysig]

Dying about stick figures rn (Patreon)

[gu6chan]

99% just my autism speaking here but something ive been noticing lately that im sorta kinda 😶 about is when ppl are like "I think you'll like this" but not bc they ACTUALLY think you'll like it, rather they just got into it and want you to also get into it so "I think you'll like this" is a nice personal hook. i love chill stuff as much as any other person ofc but given i don't divulge that EVER, what makes you think my berserk reading, made in abyss watching, drakengard playing ass would like YURU CAMP????

[july-19th-club]

new configeration of the office at work makes it so i won't have a computer at the book-putting-together desk which is fine but it does mean i have no excuse not to get back into listening to my podcasts while i process . only it's been years since i listened to podcast and i frankly don't even know where to start . last time i listened to any podcast for any length of time was the year i first had really bad insomnia and i would put on adventure zone (ethersea? i believe? the underwater one) on an incredibly low volume at like three am and lie there frustrated as i failed to find rest so that sort of soured me on the whole podcast experience . but suppose i start one up in the light of day with a nice new big desk in front of me and a sweet pile of books that need covers? like . why did i stop listening to that show really . or any of the other ones . i bet they're still good

[kingdomoftyto]

Watched the first episode of Stampede and it's. REALLY extremely good. but I am also, as predicted, in spiritual pain from how different the tone is from the original.

hhhhhhh c o n f l i c t e d . . .