#IM SORRYYYYYYYY

[transbeeduo]

BORN TO FORGET INBOX IS A FUCK Not Answering Em All 1989 I am not answering asks man 410,757,864,530 ASKS IN INBOX

[ghostbeam]

hi oz!!!! i'm in your inbox :D! for the saw trap game: toji 👀?

Tw: blood, injury, saws

Pls don’t hate me forever and ever but I wanna put him in the pendulum trap I’m sorry I’m sorry I know it’s impossible to get out of I know no one can survive it and also it’s like maybe one of the most gory but I just. I just want that for horny reasons pls don’t psychoanalyze me also alternatively I’ll give him the ten pints is sacrifice bc I feel like he could just do it no problem like he’s definitely suffered through worse what’s some saws slashing into his arms

Send me ur fav and I’ll assign them a saw trap<3

[doubletaileddoubletrouble]

You said you didn't associated Speedy with good memories, but didn't he give you a Chaos Emerald at one point?

I genuinely have no clue. I don't have the best memory on a normal basis, and the chip didn't nessicarily help with that. Not that I care.

Even if he did give me one, I would have gotten it at one point or another, handed willingly or not.

[cheesecake-clown]

This is to all the asks waiting in my inbox;

IM SO FUCKING SORRY IM SORRY IM SORRY PLZPLZPLZPLZPLZ FORGIVE ME IM SO SORRY I SWEAR ILL GET TO IT SOON IM SORRY IM SORRY IM SORRY IM SORRY

[turnthefrigginfr0gsgay]

I will not forgivest thou /silly

I hate the stickies

not even if i give you pancakes and cookie dough 🥺 /pos

[plgemsk]

" what do you want? nudes or dudes, huh? "

“.... I just want Pops back.”

[azureyemberzz]

HELP?! STOP. NOT ME IN JANUARY SAYING ID DRAW MOREEEEEE. 😭 and then posting in July

If you see this, SEND REQUESTS (there so open.). maybe I’ll draw more with peer pressure.

I have like 3 WIPS that are almost done I swearrrrrr

artist in denial of being depressed: omg this 2 month long art block has been crazy... sorry i haven't updated any of my fics in a long while! it's just been super difficult to daydream! so weird that i've lost a little bit of passion for my current comfort character and ocs... this couldn't possibly have any implications or alternative explanations

[smut-simp]

WHERE tf were you for so goddamn long??? you just DISAPPEARED for a while, i was wondering if you were dead!!

OH MY GOD! I am so sorry my love! I had forgotten my password to tumblr, so i hadn't been here for a while bc i couldn't log in. Im fine, i didn't die at all! I love you sm! ty for worrying abt me! <3

[achilleslyre]

HOW MY FRIEND GON SEND ME THIS CASUALLY AND SAY “oh this reminded me of you!” BRUHHHHHHHHH IM SORRYYYYYYYYY

[lordofwaffless]

Three: Maths

“Hello, Stewart.” The somewhat mocking speaker was a raven-haired boy sitting at the bench of an old-fashioned wooden desk with a sketchbook open in front of him. “Are we still meeting at the cafe this afternoon?” 

“Y-yeah,” stammered Stu. He hadn’t yet really recovered from Ezra’s teasing, and now, faced with the cause of it, was very seriously considering the possibility of his face being tomato-coloured for the rest of his life. 

“You’re bright red. Are you ok?” 

“I hit my face. On the wall. Which is why it’s red. My face is red because I hit my face on the wall, not because I’m blushing because I like you because you’re pretty,” mumbled the satyr with such impressive rapidity that it sounded more like 

“myfaceisredbecauseIhitmyfaceonthewallnotbecauseI’mblushingbecauseIlikeyoubecauseyou’rep retty.” 

The boy laughed. “I have no idea what you just said.” 

His name was Wesley, and Stu was quite stupidly smitten. 

Wesley took a second to look him over before continuing. “Cool shirt. Personally, I found the animation to be pretty mediocre, but I did like the character design, and the plot was great, especially the-” 

“I haven’t seen it.” At this point, Stu just wanted to tunnel into the ground and die. “It’s my aunt’s shirt. Most of my shirts are my aunt’s shirts, actually.” 

“Oh. Well, your aunt has good taste, then. Maybe we could-” 

“Stewart, if you would do us all the honour of sitting your little goat behind down, that would be absolutely wonderful,” interrupted the tall blonde at the front of the room. Stu turned around, shocked. “Yes, Professor Willow,” he mumbled, taking his seat with an injured expression on his rosy face. 

Wesley leaned over. “Are teachers allowed to say things like that?” 

“Witches can say anything. My aunt Ezra calls me stupid all the time,” he pouted. “I am stupid, though.” 

“You are not, you’re just exceptionally terrible at maths. At any rate, I happen to like your little goat arse,” his deskmate declared with a smirk. Any ordinary person (not that Wesley happened to be one) would have some measure of embarrassment attached to making such a

brazen statement at eight in the morning, but as the comment was aimed at Stu, I suppose he had enough embarrassment for the both of them. 

“I heard that, Mr. Clarke. If you could please refrain from hitting on your classmates until my class has concluded, that would also be extremely pleasing.” Professor Willow (surname Witch, surnames for witches being more a designation than an identifier) was an otherwise bubbly (if perhaps overly fond of the sound of her own voice) young woman. Much like Ezra, however, she was at something of a disadvantage when faced with teenagers so early in the morning. She’d been previously employed as a professor of chemistry in one of the local universities, but had been let go over circumstances relating to her habit of being excessively frank with her students.

As many of the witches she’d been teaching had had, like Prof. Willow herself, an affinity for flame, there were simply too many occasions where an inappropriate comment relating to a student’s work had led to half of the lab being set on fire. Teaching arithmetic in a high school of mostly boys and non-witches provided, at the very least, few opportunities to enrage students to the point of indeliberate magical explosions. 

“She didn’t say arse,” mumbled Stu into his bag, which was sitting open in front of him at his desk, “she said behind.” 

“Alright, students, if you would all please quickly open your textbooks to last night’s homework chapter and retrieve, from wherever they may be found, the completed problems that should be in your notebooks, I might be persuaded to end class early enough for Mr. Clarke (and anybody else who feels so inclined) to make a few more advances towards Mr. Marloweson.” 

All of the usual ooh-ing followed this statement. There was a significant increase in noise as the students dug through their bags in search of their homework. Wesley, for his part, looked as unconcerned as someone could possibly look when surrounded by people pointing and giggling at them; next to him at their desk, however, Stu’s eyes were glistening more than usual as he buried his face in his textbook and tried to hide his sniffling. 

“Hey,” said Wesley, tapping Stu on the head, before asking again, “You ok?” 

“M’fine,” was the barely intelligible response. The satyr could not for the life of him figure out why Wesley paid any attention to him. Not only was he short and trouser-averse, most people thought he was kind of a weirdo, and he was used as an example of how not to simplify an equation nearly every day in class.

“I doubt that. Well, I was going to ask you to come over sometime this week before Professor Willow made you sit down, but since that probably qualifies as ‘making advances’, I’ll have to ask you after class.” 

Stu lifted his head up from Advanced Algebra for Magic Users, vol. II to look at the boy smirking at him. The satyr’s eyebrows were raised, his cheeks retained all of their tomato-esque hue, and he looked, quite generally, like someone had just asked him to define a particularly difficult word without looking at a dictionary. “You- what?” 

Wesley laughed; it was a lovely, melodic sound which was closer to the feeling of sunlight dancing through the trees than it was to the cackle one would have expected from him. Stu was pleased to be the cause of his mirth, even though he wished people laughed at him less.“Later. Did you do the homework?” 

He blinked. “I- yes. I did the homework. I didn’t understand it, and I’m pretty sure I got all of the questions wrong, but I did do the homework.” 

“How the hell did you get into this class, anyway?” 

Stu pouted. “You sound like my aunt Ezra.” 

Wesley looked his deskmate in the eye and raised a brow. “Is she the one whose shirts you wear?” 

“Mmhmm.” 

“That’s fine then. She seems cool.” 

“She’s very cool.” 

“Are you implying that I’m cool, Stewart?” Wesley said with a smirk. 

Stu buried his head in his textbook again, which earned him another laugh. “You’re very cool,” he mumbled. 

“You’re pretty cool too, you know,” replied his deskmate. 

“Mmph.” 

“You are, although you didn’t answer my question. How did you get into this class?” Stu glared at him. Seeing as he looked like a Cabbage Patch Kid, it wasn’t a particularly effective glare. “I took two maths classes last year.” 

“How did you pass two maths classes last year?” 

“There was a lot of tutoring involved,” Stu mumbled, blushing.

“Oh, so the same way you’re passing this class, then,” said Wesley, comprehension dawning on his elvin features. He was not an elf (at least, not entirely), but he was uncommonly pretty; at least, Stu and most other people his age certainly seemed to think so, considering the way they fawned over him continuously even though he could be kind of an arse. 

“Hmph,” replied the satyr. The two boys stopped talking for a while then as the teacher’s eyes turned to glare at them. Stu found, with more than a bit of relief, that he and Ezra had gotten almost all of the questions right; the only ones he’d missed had been the ones he’d solved himself, which wasn’t great, but it was still an improvement. He was at least glad that he wouldn’t have to stay for extra lessons at the end of the week. Well, assuming he made it to the end of the week. He was feeling more hopeful than usual, though. After all, how could he not get the rest of assignments done properly when he had such a pretty tutor?

[tankgotstuckinthecircusgate]

eddie scarpa save me........... eddie scarpa..... save me eddie scarpa......

carlo falcone save me.............. carlo falcone....... save me carlo falcone.......

[turnipoddity]

my fucking god. i apologize for the casual and very normal lawrence fans and see this banner. good god

[oki-coma]

vw flowershop au that was inspired by this lovely fic series for #vashwoodfluffweek !! 💐 I recommend it if you like this pair hehe

[basically-bumble]

oh slay

Bless the hearts of those who read these things!

My name is Julia/Jules when referring to me but Blessie when referring to my character !

Pronouns are She/Her

I am 23 !

This blog is mostly SFW since I am cannonically everyone's ultra conservative southern aunt while also being the pride mom from Mason Denver tiktoks!

If you officially want to become a family member just ask! I will adopt you as my neice/nephew!

Official Family: *dry as the Sahara atm*

Forced Family: @yes-im-youtube-kids (became their aunt at their bday party)

My frends you should go follow: @the-official-publix @officialtinder @offical-firefox-nightly @wanderinginkdemon @google-news-official @gnomiwizard @shakespeare-official-account @life360-i-swear @yes-im-youtube-kids

[fernsensei]

V2 makes microwave noises and overheats when Gabriel presses his head against theirs without warning

distressed robots are my favourite

[spiderducks]

guys i don’t wanna talk about how many saturdays i missed