#PIMKINS

[lightbulb-warning]

im having pikmin withdrawals as after finishing my nth watch of whoever's playthrough and speedrun and each and every goddamn pikmin challenge video the algorithm feeds me, the pikmin content is still not enough. i need more of those pikmin short animations i have rewatched them a bazillion times each but the craving is yet to be satisfied, i just wanna see them do stuff. pick up a leaf or whatever. stare with voidfull thoughtless eyes at the camera. anything. i have started watching every single pikmin trailer i come across in any and all languages. they're so cute. they're so fucking cute. they're so stupid. doctor pls inject me more ccs of these funky little carrot critters directly into my bone marrow STAT lest i wither away into nothingness. pls. i fucking love pikmin. holy shit. they make stupid fucking teeny tiny sounds and cheer when they throw bombs, doc. doc they're very very cute and love their stupid tasks do you see this shit doc. doc are you seeing this shit they go onyaonyaonya as they dig. doc please. doc can you hear me

[dailypikminrenders]

pikmin 1 yellow pikmin render, 2001

[pupmkincake2000]

First Reality: Connor Mourns

Rain drums against the stone slab, trickling down the engraved letters: Hank Anderson. Connor stands before the grave, as motionless as a statue. The synthetic skin on his face is cold, yet something inside him burns, consuming him from within.

“Why did you have to leave me?” His voice is steady, but there’s a fracture in it, almost imperceptible. Yet he already knows the answer.

Humans are mortal.

He remembers everything. Hank’s scent—a blend of tobacco and something inexplicably familiar. His hands, strong yet warm, pulling Connor close every day. Their evenings, filled with quiet conversations, laughter, so treasured kisses. Their life, lived together—decades side by side, sharing not just work, but a bed and emotions.

“If I have to die someday,” Hank had once murmured, running his fingers through Connor’s hair, “let it be with you by my side.”

And that was how it ended. They had been sitting on the couch, as they always did, side by side. Hank had rested his head against Connor’s shoulder, exhaled a weary breath, and squeezed his hand. He had whispered, almost inaudibly, “I love you, partner.” And then—silence. His breathing ceased, his fingers went slack, his body became heavy and lifeless.

Connor felt something inside him shatter. Not programmed code, but something deeper—something that made him feel alive once.

He tried to detect a heartbeat, but all he heard was the rain outside. Just like now. For the first time in his existence, he didn’t know what to do.

Now he stands here, before the grave, and the only thing he wants is to disappear.

“I don’t want to live in a world without you.” His fingers tighten into fists, as if holding onto the last fragile thread of control. But even as he stands there, unmoving, the rain washing over him, something within him has already made the decision—one he will not turn back from.

That night, in the quiet emptiness of their home, Connor sits on their bed—the bed they had shared for decades. Hank’s scent still lingers on the sheets, a fading trace of a life now gone. His LED flickers yellow, then red, as he methodically shuts down all background processes, his systems slowing.

Humans are mortal.

But so are androids.

He closes his eyes, running endless calculations, searching for a variable that does not lead to absence, to silence, to an existence without Hank. But there is no such equation. And so, as the night deepens and the world outside keeps going without them, Connor finally allows himself to stop searching.

The weight of the world presses down on him, an unbearable emptiness stretching before him. He sees no future, no purpose—only the cold and the silence, curling around him like an inescapable shadow, a presence that will never fade. And as the night stretches on, the last traces of his existence fade with it, until there is nothing left but the stillness of a world without him.

A final thought crosses his mind: If androids had souls, his would belong to Hank. And in the next instant, the room is swallowed by silence.

Second Reality: Hank Mourns

The earth over the fresh grave is still soft. The black stone bears the inscription: Connor Anderson. His full name, because after the revolution, they had married, and he had taken Hank’s surname. It was not merely a symbol of their love but a conscious choice—Connor wanted to leave the past behind and embrace a new life, not as an android built for obedience, but as a person whose electronic heart belonged to Hank alone.

Hank's standing motionless, hands in his pockets. The rain has already soaked him to the bone, but he doesn’t notice. His mind is elsewhere, lost in the years they spent together—more than twenty years, day after day, side by side. The slow mornings with the scent of coffee filling their home, Connor wordlessly placing a cup beside him, always made just right. The evenings spent on their worn-out couch, Connor sitting beside him, his presence a quiet comfort. The way Connor would lean into him, pressing his face into Hank’s shoulder after a long day, his artificial warmth syncing to match Hank’s body heat, as if trying to mimic something inherently human.

The way they held each other, not because it was necessary, but because it was right. Because no one else in the world could make Hank feel the way Connor did—like he was still someone worth loving. The way Connor always reached for his hand at night, fingertips cool against his palm, making him feel so loved. The quiet moments, the laughter that never truly faded. Sometimes even the fights that became rarer over the years.

They had built a life, a home, something Hank never thought he would have again. And now, it was gone.

At first, they had been partners. Then, they had been friends. And eventually… eventually, it became something more than Hank had ever dared to hope for. A life built together, not out of necessity, but out of choice. Out of love.

“You idiot, Connor…” His voice is hoarse. “I thought androids couldn’t die. But you found a way.

Connor hadn’t fallen in battle. He hadn’t broken down in some violent catastrophe. He had simply stopped functioning. His model had become obsolete, no replacements were produced, no software updates were available. He had kept going as long as he could, pushing through failing systems, until one day, he had stood on the threshold of their home, looking at Hank with those same unwavering eyes—before his body gave out for good.

Hank had quit drinking after he and Connor became a couple. It had been difficult, but Connor was patient, steady, always there to pull him back when the past tried to drag him under. And for years, he had stayed sober, because for the first time in a long time, he had something... someone to live for.

But after Connor’s death, the bottle called to him again. He drank himself into oblivion, trying to drown the grief, trying to silence the echoes of a life that was now gone. He forgot what day it was. He wanted to forget everything. But memory—the damn memory—wouldn’t let him.

And in the haze of it all, he realized—he couldn’t do this again. He had made this mistake once, after Cole. Letting the alcohol swallow him whole, pushing away everything that remained. But Connor had saved him from that once. And he wouldn’t throw away what they had built, not like this. He hears Connor’s voice in the silence of the apartment. Sees his smile. Feels the ghost of cold fingers brushing against his wrist.

But he will live. To the last breath, the last goddamn day. Because this was their story, their love, their life. He will see it through to the end, even if every day without Connor is agony. Because loving him was the only thing that gave his life meaning—and now, without him, there is only emptiness.

Epilogue: Interwoven Fates

They both stood at each other’s graves. In different worlds, in different times.

Connor had understood that he could not live without Hank, and he had no intention of continuing—because he loved him too much. Hank, on the other hand, had chosen to go on, knowing his days were numbered anyway, and that sooner or later, he would follow after Connor.

Their love endured. In one world, as a weight too heavy to bear; in another, as the only truth worth disappearing for.

The rain continued to fall. The earth drank in their grief. And somewhere, in the reflection of two fates, two lives, and two deaths—they were still together.

[mmj-irl]

airi made an unusual friend today!

[fictionkinfessions]

I think it's pretty funny for my canon opposites, because I have quite a few.

Like, I am Pim from smiling friends, but also Dabi from MHA.

And I'm Glamrock Freddy, but also Dan from Dan vs.

There's probably more I can think of later, but those are ones I can think of for bigger differences.

w

[wormdramafever]

Goodbye Volcano High on PASTE Magazine's Best Games of 2023!!

30. Goodbye Volcano High It isn’t easy surviving high school—or an extinction-level event. Goodbye Volcano High, a story-driven adventure game from the designers of 2017’s charming interactive toy box Gnog, charges its teenage ennui with the threat of Armageddon, as its cast of anthropomorphic dinosaurs are fully aware an asteroid is coming to destroy their civilization. These lizards share our human frailties, grappling with anxiety, indecision, questions about their identity, romantic hopes and failures, and the chasm of uncertainty we all face as we enter adulthood. Oh, it’s also a rhythm game, where you help its lead character write songs for their very 2020s-sounding indie band. (It turns out songwriting is just as hard as high school and impending doom.) Goodbye Volcano High is more of a visual novel than a traditional game, but its well-told emotional story will resonate with anybody who has ever felt depressed and confused—so pretty much everybody. Also there’s a cute triceratops who won’t shut up about bugs. She’s cool.—Garrett Martin

[aites-artxx]

Something stupid and out of character for them👍

[4byun]

He is. Healing

Wha—— How is he healing standing up.,,, woaaagh.. pro cod player

[bluepimkin]

I am in this image and I approve wholeheartedly

[aquavirgamediary]

[angermango]

pimkins and subway bosses

[virtualgirladvance]

trick n treat

look at all them pimkins

[fictionkinfessions]

helloooo!! I hope that everyone is doing great recently! Remember that better days are to come! Anyways, Sometimes I miss people so badly aghhh.. And I know I can never get them back, but I know that I'll be fine in the end :) yayyy whimsy silliness and fun !!!

-Pim

x

[the-omega-artist]

i made a silly little oc thats just a brainless pimkin

[blue-pikmin-gaming]

*pimkin deahth sound*

YOUR E ARE LISTNGI TO,

*suquealing an d scriming *

PNF 404

*hyuphyuphyuphyuphyup*

REALL PICKMAN RADIO

*yuippie!!!!*

WHUER WEPLAY NTOHIGN BUT BANGIRS, BANGORS, ND MOR BUNGERS

*necar dirnking sbound*

THIS ISNOT YOUR AVRAG SHERGRUBBS CHANEL

*imagon a dragno - radioctiv start playsing*