#I sleep in like in a bog

[danandfuckingjonlmao]

dnp are so much worse than we could ever be. they bully us for being like omg they touched and then sit there screaming and giggling and kicking their feet because omg dan helped phil sort his fringe out in 2015 that’s soooo sweet!1!!1!!!!! 😭😭😭 omg did you see how they communicated without words?? 😱 they are so in tune with each other they have such a powerful connection 🥹🥰😆 so cute how dan was looking out for phil soulmate shit fr 🥺 let’s watch it again 😝😍🤣😵🤭🫨 like shut the fuck up?? fucking phannies?? you’re so embarrassing??

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

Hey, I had a thought for the fantasy au! So on one of the previous versions of the WH website, there was a rhyme for the show that went:

A house is a place with four walls and a floor,

with a ceiling above and a lovely front door.

There's a bed to cradle you safely at night,

and windows to bring in the morning sunlight.

Your house is a mirror of just who you are,

A reflection that tells you to never stray far.

Which I thought might make a good incantation for when Wally properly summons Home (I can't remember if that's ever required for Warlocks but hey, it's still a fun poem regardless).

ohhhh this. i like this...

bonus og sketch! big ol eyes...

& no capalet because uhhhh eh nah and also i wanted Home's pendant to be on full display!

[secondbeatsongs]

had a dream that I was video chatting with some friends, but when I turned on my camera I looked like I'd just crawled out of a horror movie, and the only thing I could think to say was "sorry I look like a bog witch today, guys - it's the testosterone."

[talesofwhimsy]

Car Seat Headrest, “Weightlifters” // the Mountain Goats, “Isaiah 45:23”

[keeps-ache]

think this is funny. anyway. the Thoughts are back at it again

[kurapioca]

i was in the basement of the old arts building on campus with some other students who randomly got together to play cards and they asked me “hey do you play canasta” and i floundered and said “uhh no i don’t know how to play canasta” and they stared at me (not unkindly but boy was it awkward) and they said “ok then you can just watch” and i thought to myself “damn this is the exact kind of problem dick grayson WOULDN’T have…i bet HE knows how to play canasta”

[vanillabeenflower]

does it make sense to say that I love the concept of philosophy and psychology by themselves and the questions they ask but personally hate philosophers and psychiatrists themselves. genuine question.

Keep in mind, I love stuff like color psychology, negative/positive punishment and reinforcement, and the psychological theory that claims dreams are a way of processing issues that happened while awake. I was one of the most engaged ppl in Psychology class. And I was almost brought to tears over the Egg Theory

but every time I read/play something written/made by experts in either field (Pippin Barr, Ian Bogost, etc.), or GOD FORBID combined with the profession of game critic/developer, I can't stop thinking about if they were in a Warhammer explosion (using a codeword to avoid getting nuked). Like I hate the player but love the game

anyway im gonna go play with my friend :3

here's malade's opinion on this pressing matter

[apatheticlexicographer]

MOTHERFUCK i did not realize how much those antidepressants made me feel physically psychologically and dare i say spiritually like a peat mummy

literally 2 days off them and i've experienced more joy, lucidity, motivation and general good vibes than i did in the whole 2 months i was on them 😭😭

[ominouslyqueer]

Come to the marshlands where the old ones lie, buried deep in the threshold between land and sea. Find yourself knee deep in the dark, damp earth, shaking hands digging deeper as you fill your lungs with humid air tinged with something more than just the taste of salt and peat resting heavy on your tongue. Dig deep down until you can remember nothing else, seeking those that are long forgotten but never truly gone.

They love the places that connect two states, two worlds. Any threshold can contain at least one, but it is the marshes and the bogs that hold dozens, hundreds, so many that one can hardly step without crossing their path. Here they lie, breathing in the world around them, losing themselves in the nature of decay, intertwining with plant roots until they can hardly be distinguished from their surroundings.

It is here you find yourself, digging deeper.

Deeper.

Deeper.

Until your fingers ache and burn, blood spilling to mix with the muck and become more than it was. You dig for so long that you nearly forget why you came here, why you wished to escape the world of concrete and glass for this one of transitions, mud, and salt sweet water that threatens your every breath. It is only when your fingers, torn and shaking, brush against something that isn't the marsh that you remember once again.

You came for them.

They lay deep down beneath the earth, an angel in its own way, though you'd never dare to call it divine. A force neither holy nor demonic, it simply exists, connecting all that lives within and around it through its very essence. They're almost horrifying, down in the muck, but you have no desire to look away.

They open their many eyes to look at you, each one murky like the dirt around them but shining from within. Their body twists and turns around the roots surrounding them, long and sinuous, pale, translucent skin revealing the pulse of tides and life that moves below. Moss curls around fingers that bury themselves further into the earth, long and ever reaching. They sigh, with a voice that shakes the dirt around them.

It's beautiful, and terrifying, and you can't look away.

You won't look away.

They look up at you fully, and smile, or what you hope is a smile. It's too wide, barely fitting on the grotesque stretch of their face, but you do not scream. It reaches one long, long hand up towards you, fingers ending in a root system tangling them together. They beckon, smile still breaking their face in half.

You do not scream.

This is what you came for after all. One did not seek out the old ones without knowing the outcome, and you were no different. So while your fingers shake, and your chest aches with a strange mixture of fear, sadness, and joy, you do not scream.

You smile back.

Taking their gnarled, twisting hand in yours, you allow yourself to sink deeper into the earth, clasping tightly in fear of losing them in the dark. They trill a laugh, pulling you closer as the ground closes up above you both. Darkness consumes you both, leaving you with only the 4 senses that remain.

The taste of peat.

The smell of salt.

The sound of laughter, unnatural and thundering in your ears.

The feeling of roots and fingers that drag you

down

down

down

until you know only them, and they know only you, and you feel as you become undone in their arms. Roots tangle with your hair, reaching and stretching until you don't know where you end and they begin. Maybe the distinction never mattered, for now you are one, and you are overjoyed.

Maybe years, decades, centuries later you will be pulled from the marsh, by scientists or the like who look over you with curiosity and awe. Your body will be mostly unchanged (the peat takes care of its own) and they will marvel at the preservation at work. Maybe you will be studied displayed, gawked at by a public who had long forgotten the names of the old ones who ruled over the world long ago. Maybe none of this will happen, and you will be left to sleep deep beneath the earth, in the arms of the being who chose to cherish you for all of time.

You don't really care, not now when the marsh had accepted you so completely. You smile one last time, exhaling the last of the air in your lungs, and rest, safe and sound in the embrace of the earth as it breathes around you.

[memecatwings]

i was kind of only judging hazbin hotel and helluva boss on their own merits and ignoring everything to do with vivziepop personally but finding out she's a seth rogan fan has offended me deeply and i have half a mind to reinstate my twitter account just so i can go cyberbully her myself i need to tell her im revoking her bi card

[bogunicorn]

still drives me absolutely fucking coconuts that season 2 has inej ask kaz what he saw in his drug dream like twice as if expecting some specific answer. like... girl what are you expecting, did you think you were sharing a deadly poison dreamscape?

i mean, the real answer is that inej asks that very specific and pointed question because the writers were being lazy and backtracking from the situation they'd written themselves into - which is that inej is the one putting up walls this season, not kaz. so they have her prod at something specific and have him dig his heels in, even though inej... also didn't say... what was in her dream. like. like you both woke up and then delivered taglines about it, that was a complete interaction. why do you need to know details, you didn't give details and dude was clearly making some kind of overture and askjdsfkjldsas

batty. fucking batty i'm foaming at the mouth, goddamn

shadow and bone writers stop making inej look like a dummy in season 3 and/or a crows spinoff challenge

[fingertipsmp3]

Someone on a NaNoWriMo prep thread: if you’re trying to win NaNo for the first time my advice is to pick the simplest idea

Me: yep, that seems smart. I’ll do that

Also me: *walks away from my first brainstorming session needing to research the golden age of piracy, the composition of the UK in the mid 17th century, the British navy in the mid 17th century, and the overall concept of a time loop*

[dualumina]

To be completely honest they could just yell out while looking all normal water spirity "Hey I'm a water spirit and I'd be so so so happy if you'd let me drown you in my bog 🥺" and you'd never find our body after that

I feel like a lot of you on here would be tricked by a water spirit trying to drown you

[betagrove]

I gotta go to Hoenn FUCK

[tchotchkez]

🥲

[clamorybus]

as a kid, i had an obsession with mummies & bog bodies