#and I am just finishing a snack now

[slumberouslemon]

I slept for 16hrs... SIXTEEN FUCKING HOURS

Wtf body

Why

[ghostzzy]

good morning gay people

[mildmayfoxe]

yknow it is crazy to think about how much i have been able to improve my quality of life by selling art as a supplementary form of income. like obviously it's a second job and it's taxing but it's also so rewarding to know how much people enjoy my work and how much good it is doing me to like, feel like i can buy snacks at the store. to be able to get takeout every once in a while. like obviously those are extremely minor changes or things most people take for granted but to me it's huge. having berries in the house when they're out of season and more expensive. buying things for CONVENIENCE??! it feels so crazy to me to have such a sense of luxury which i know says more about the bleak feeling of poverty that's followed me around my entire adult life than anything else but i feel so much gratitude that i am afforded these small luxuries at least in part because of people that like my art. not to mention how nice is is to make things consistently again when, prior to 2020, i hadn't made art regularly in almost a decade. anyway. it's cool!

[icewindandboringhorror]

Apparently I can meet my goal of roughly 400,000 words in 6 months if I just somehow write at least 2,200 words a day ghbjh... Almost 2,500 today... huzzah...

[yappingmil]

Mmm having another like venting in my head but knowing the second im done venting im gonna be like you didnt mean that tho moment

[dragons-and-yellow-roses]

My little old lady dog has never liked me, no matter how many French fries I've bribed her with, but tonight she climbed into my lap and is laying down and won't move. At first I think it was because I was eating, but I finished the food and now she's layed down and cozy and won't move. I'm trapped under a little old lady dog who normally hates me. I want to sleep. What do I do.

[thatoneweirdo14]

OKAY OKAY SK I JUST REWATCHED YOI AND WANT TO DUMP ALL MY COMPARISONS OF THESE TWO PARALLEL SCENES:

In Victors scene hes walking away from his coach but yuri is running towards his

Yuris scene is in daytime showing a new start in his life but victors is at night showing the end of his chapter

The train and board behind victor is illuminated which shows how hes chasing after his "light" (metaohorically) but the bus behind yuri isnt so hes already found his (given this takes place at the end of the season)

-also the board behind victor could depict how he is still living in a world where he is affected by peoples views bc ofc his whole appeal is trying to surprise ppl (which includes addressing their views) but yuris bg is a clear sky so hes at peace with who he is now which makes sense since a part of his character development was him gaining confidence in himself

Also trains are used to travel longer distances, like from city to city showimg how victor just cant stop moving but at the end hes standing still while yuri runs to him. In contrast, buses travel within a city, within one location that directly opposes how yuri was moving from jp to detroit then country to country for the grand prix so was constantly moving which kinda shows his unrest before victor came and then after he cams yuri always had someone he could call home next to him, so it didnt feel like he was making massive, uncomfortable leaps in his life anymore

in victors scene hes talking to yakov abt going alone while standing with him but in yuris scene hes talking about being together while running alone

also it isnt shown in the ss but victor is turning away while yuri is running towards so its kinda like theyre walking towards eo <3

ALSO also it could be seen as 2 separate bridges that are built the same for the sake of symbolism. They both crossed a bridge that seemed a whole world apart only to meet eo in the middle which matches up with what yuri said in ep 2 or 3 "whenever i open up to him, he always meets me in the middle"

[mars-ipan]

i am going to kill whatever part of my brain gives me appetite issues

[silly-stings]

joyyy joy bliss

[sovaharbor]

what did i do to deserve an ibs flare-up at 11 pm.......

[zelda7999]

Heyheyhey hydrate and get a snack you are loved and appreciated!!

Hey- hey wait ;0; aaaaaaaa

I'm usually the one doing this!! aa ;w; thank you I'll hydrate and get a snack now <3 <3 <3

[moe-broey]

Honestly I'm a bit relieved we don't have PMD2 remakes like. Not even cause I'm a hater (though I am VERY partial to the og sprite work, they really killed it w that). No, the reason is because I'm autistic and there are simply Too Many Things actually, esp in quick succession lately LMFAO like. I do not have the brain room for it.

And like as silly as it might sound, I've been REALLY overwhelmed and frustrated by it. I'm upset that I moved on from SV so quickly, I haven't even touched the Engage DLC despite having it, I haven't touched Engage in general actually. I feel like Fire Emblem esp takes up A Lot of brain space. I'm really upset that I Almost got really into SuMo again but kind of immediately was distracted by other things and I have art projects that have been left hanging bc of it.

Something weirdly specific is like??? Bc I make a lot of fanart and a lot of it takes the form of comics and focuses heavily on interactions and dynamics between characters, something I've REALLY been struggling with is like. I feel like it takes a lot of studying a character and getting to know them to really capture their Voice, how they talk, how they think, how they feel and how they react to things, outwardly and internally. That's a deep process for me that takes a lot of time and thought.

I feel like I can't quite express it all the way, like it's stuck, but like. Really picking apart the SV squad and trying to learn each of their mannerisms vocal quirks and general vibes about how they Are. Feeling abruptly uprooted from that to do it all over again but with a huge roster of brand new characters. Also really wanting to revisit older characters that are near and dear to me that I do feel I know very well.

And also like??? A very sudden distraction and almost instant loss of interest is like. Hell on earth hell on earth. Like as much as I fucking miss SV already and as much as I really wanted to keep working on my projects about it (had a whole AU going and everything) literally I Could Not get myself back into it even if I tried really really REALLY hard. And that is SO upsetting????? It's such a specific thing.

Hhhghgh got. Distracted thinking about PMD LMFAOO making that a separate post tbh but like. Main point is replaying it a bit reminded me of the importance of being able to slow down and really sit with a game. It's characters and story and what it has to say. And even now, I'm already getting the Hell feeling of needing to chase whatever can grasp me and hold me. When will I stop chasing my own tail??? When does it end??? Will I ever be able to finish my projects???? Will I ever be able to play a video game like a normal person?????? I'm launching my own ass into 2013. Not even in a woe nostalgia type of way, but in a I really just had Two Interests and that was it way. I'm blowing this whole building up.

[ijustwantasideblogokay]

the empyrean tarot set arrived today yayyy (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)و

[silvershayde]

Sometimes it really feels like me my sister and my mum are the only ones who actually take care of my cat

[x-crowmancer-x]

My brother, why have you betrayed me?

Why must you turn the kitchen lights on

Let me eat my apple in the dark

My fruit bat immersion is ruined

[gallusrostromegalus]

The Van Has Officially Declared It Spooky Season

---

I've got my parent's van for the week and it seems determined to establish my status as The Local Cryptid by terrorizing an innocent 7-11 clerk.

...I might need to back up a bit.

My mother is an eminently sensible woman who knows herself well, and when The Plauge hit, she knew she'd need some sort of mentally and physically engaging craft project to keep herself from going insane and massacring the local zoning and water management boards (even if they have it coming). So she and Dad acquired a utility van and converted it into a camper van because while they love camping, they're past the age where their joints and immune systems will tolerate sleeping on the cold ground in a nylon tent.

They did a terrific job of it and my mom taught herself woodworking and carpentry and now the van has it's own cabinets, fold-away dining table, and removable queen-sized bed with memory foam mattress. My Dad was already a computer engineer, but he learned the dark magics of automotive software and electronics to install after-market backup cameras, a media player that would take a terabyte hard drive and a solar-powered battery and outlet so they could wake up and just turn on the kettle and griddle for breakfast without having to exit the van into a cold morning on an empty stomach.

Truly, the height of Camping Luxury.

My parents are both in their mid-seventies and my primary life goal is to be at least half as cool and hale as they are when I get old.

Anyway, they take it out at least a dozen times a year and it works fabulously, but, being as I am on good terms with my parents and also finishing the process of moving house, I've been borrowing it to move large and cumbersome objects that will not fit in the back of my equally lovely but minuscule Honda hatchback.

It's a Great Van. Very easy and comfortable to drive. Stunningly good MPG for it's size. The best cruise control I've ever had in a car.

It's just also. Quirky. Mischievous, even.

---

If this van has a fault its that it bears the unfortunate affliction that all lightly used white utility vans have in that the combination of an utter lack of branding features and the large dent/scrape I accidentally put on it while trying to escape a Denny's last Thanksgiving means that this vehicle is one addition of a Badly Spray-Painted "FREE CANDY" on the side away from being the sort of vehicle you see in an edgy horror movie.

It's got the same issue that Doberman Dogs have where they look like the sort of creature that likes to snack on toddler's faces whilst actually having personalities made of marshmallow fluff. This vehicle is unnecessarily menacing and I think nothing short of an airbrushed Epic Van Wizard will correct this. People see this van pull up and lean over and squint suspiciously at me when the driver's side door opens, and then look moderately confused when, instead of Charles Manson, a small, potato-shaped creature with neon purple hair and a statistically unlikely assortment of dogs emerges.

My own two dogs, Herschel the Hanukkah Goblin/Corgi and Charleston Chew The Taco Dumpster Dog, Do Not Like The Van. Even with the bed in it, they have a tendency to slide and roll around in the back, and both WILL chew through dog saftey belts or other attempts to secure them in there.

On the other hand, my house mate's dog, an exceptionally tall standard poodle whom we lovingly call "The Creature", loves the Van because SHE wears her doggy seat-belt with only mild complaining and gets to sit up in the passenger seat like A People.

Also like A People, The Creature likes to stand and walk around on her hind legs. It doesn't hurt her and it's entirely voluntary, but every so often I will feel a hand on my arm and instead of my husband or friend, it's a canine that's taller than I am on her hind legs who wants to stare at my face with soulful, concerned eyes. The Creature's favorite thing is that she is exactly the right height for me to hold her arm in Genteel Fashion and walk around the pet food or hardware store with her like I'm a count escorting a debutante around a royal ball.

---

As it stands, I am set to inherit this vehicle whenever my Honda gives up the ghost, and I fully intend to paint an Epic Van Wizard on it when that time comes.

The other peculiarity of The Van is that while Dad did manage to successfully install all his after-market electronics, not all the electronics get along. Sometimes, they fight for Dominance. The Terabyte Music Player and the Backup Camera have a particularly contentious relationship, and turning on the music has about a 25% chance of turning on the backup camera as well, and turning on the Backup Camera is equally likely to turn on the music.

Firthermore, The Van has a favorite song.

I am not kidding that Dad filled an entire terabyte hard drive with music and the software to sort it via the radio controls, but of all the Early Boomer Dad Rock (Kingston Trio over The Eagles) and Irish Folk and Symphonies and the entire discography of Weird Al Yankovic, The Van's favorite song- The one it picks to play as victory music every time it beats the Backup Camera at their weird electronic game of rock-paper-scissors -is The Liberty Bell March by John Phillip Sousa.

You all know this song already.

...but in case you've forgotten the tune:

Yeah.

The Van's favorite song is the goddamn Monty Python's Flying Circus Theme Music.

It does not play this song at a normal volume.

Every time I turn on the Backup Camera and it manages to turn the music player on as well, The Van insists on absolutely blasting this nonsense on at the maximum volume it's physically capable of producing, which I know is loud enough to be heard from the Denver International Airport's Pickup zone when they Van decided to start playing it from the economy lot about half a mile away.

Perhaps it's The Van's way of honoring the aesthetic sensibilities and sonic enthusiasm of Mr. Sousa.

...I can't help but wonder if the purpose of an Epic Van Wizard is to control this sort of faerie-like malarkey, and channel these chaotic energies into things like Spell of Don't Break Down In Nevada or Enchantment Of Always Have Good Parking.

---

So last Friday the 13th, I get a call from my friend and housemate, at said airport.

It's roughly 11PM at night, and I have already retired for the evening. I am in the exact minimum of clothing required to be a decent housemate and not scandalize the neighbors should I happen to walk by a window. My feet are up. There is a cat in my lap and fictional British people murdering each other in highly inventive fashion on the tv. -But my friend has returned from her friend's wedding,and either American or United Airlines has managed to lose her luggage, including, among other valuable possessions, the keys to her car. ...So she cannot just drive home as originally planned.

There are, as luck would have it, her spare set of keys not eight feet from me.

Being a good and decent person, I agree to bring the spare keys to her so she may get home before daybreak and not spend a semester's worth of tuition on an uber across the greater Denver traffic jam.

Being also that she Loves Activities, and it's her mom we're going to pick up, I elect to take along The Creature.

I am primarily focused on remembering how to get to the airport and not leaving my friend's spare keys on the counter, so I throw on a pair of flip-flops, step outside, remember that it's AUTUMN and my minimal evening attire is not sufficient thermal protection, step back in, grab the first coat in the closet I lay hands on, pull it on, check that I have her keys again and leave.

The trip to the airport is largely unremarkable, save that it becomes necessary for me to put on sunglasses to drive, despite it being nearly the witching hour and almost entirely darker than the inside of a cow.

It's necessary because this blissful darkness of night is violently punctured by a startling number of cars that seem to have installed miniaturized but no less powerful lighthouse bulbs in where their headlights ought to go so the oncoming traffic and sports cars that insist on tailgating me in the slow lane alike illuminate the road and my mirrors with the kind of radiance I'd normally associate with the arrival of a Seraphim.

I arrive at the distant highly discounted airport car lot where my housemate is waiting, deeply apologetic. It's nothing. I say. Once I see that your car starts up, I'm gonna go to that 7-11 across the way that I parked in front of, get a slurpee or something and I'll see you at home.

While she is retrieving her vehicle (an equally eccentric but much more stately Subaru that is old enough to be elected to congress) I rifle through the loose change in the glove box and discover that I have exactly $6.66 in small bills and coins. The Subaru, continuing it's long voyage into vehicular immortality, immediately starts up.

Upon her return, we all remember that my friend had all her camping gear in the backseat of the car and there is no room for The Creature to ride home with her parent, so I again assure her it's nothing, and will just take The Creature into the 7-11 with me. She is trained as a service animal and needs the practice after the plague.

I wave my friend off and turn to enter the 7-11.

I promptly trip over the jutting back bumper of The Van and fall, cartoonishly, face-first onto the sidewalk.

Fortunately, I have a lot of practice falling on my face, and have learned not to throw my hands out but instead cover my face, so my unexpected self-inflicted attempted curb-stomping lightly scrapes my hairline and nothing else -my sunglasses even stay in place- and I get up and resume my quest for a slurpee.

It's well known that the airport is a lawless place, and the 7-11 across from the discounted airport parking at the stroke of midnight is no exception.

I know it's the stroke of Midnight because there's one of those Audubon society bird-call clocks that makes bird noises, and my arrival is heralded by the twittering call of a Summer Tanager. I am almost charmed enough by the unusual choice of chronological device to excuse the exorbitant Airport-adjacent mark-up of Slurpee prices. I stand at the machine for some time, trying to decide on a size for the price and guess what the fuck "Blue Lighting Blast" is supposed to taste like.

The Creature is being Very Polite but is somewhat agitated, I assume because she *just* saw her mother for the first time in three days and then she LEFT with no explanation, so The Creature is on her hind legs, staring woefully into my eyes, asking to be escorted around the 7-11. Even though that's not what she's not supposed to be doing, there's nobody else in here, so I let her hang off my arm and discuss various Slurpee Flavor options with her.

We eventually decide on an experiment in which I try a Small Blue Lightning Blast, and discover it tastes a bit like licking a nintendo cartridge but in a pleasantly satisfying way.

I go up to pay and realize something is amiss.

The Cashier is a young man staring at me with wide eyes, one had over the register and the other wrapped up in his rosary.

I look down at myself.

In my haste to reunite my friend with her spare keys and service animal, I had left the house in the following accoutrements:

Flip Flops. Not matching. It's below freezing outside. That last part is not particularly odd footwear for the weather in for Colorado, but it's an important detail for the rest of the ensemble.

Assorted scrapes, bruises, cuts and welts on my arms and legs that come with doing outdoor work and living in a house with three dogs and a fully-clawed cat that all want to be in my lap all the time. It's cold out, so vasoconstriction has pulled the blood away from my skin, a trait that served my ancestors well during the last Ice Age, but leaves me with pale skin to contrast the various wounds and I look like a corpse that fell out of the back of a pickup truck.

The black Bootyshorts with "CRYPTID" painted in bright red gothic font across my ass, that @theshitpostcalligrapher gave me for my wedding present.

A peculiar but extremely comfortable garment that straddles the line between "Lacy Camisole" and "Industrial-Strength Sports Bra" like the Ever Given straddling the Suez Canal. It is also Bright Red. with black accents.

The Jacket I had grabbed out of the closet, which is in fact, a black Velour Dinner Jacket.

The Tokyo-Ghoul inspired reusable anti-covid mask a friend made me with the set of Coyote Teeth.

My sunglasses, which are shaped like a Halloween Bat. The lenses are the wings and the body is the nose bridge. It is ALSO bright red.

A Very Large and remarkably Humanoid Poodle that I have been audibly affectionately calling "Dear Creature" who is hanging off my arm like she's my Prom Date.

The Very Large and remarkably Humanoid Poodle is ALSO dressed up in a black Dog Sweater that has white bones printed on it to look like its an X-ray jacket showing off her skeleton.

I look like I am taking my Very Fancy Werewolf Girlfriend to a particularly casual Dinner Party for Vampires, but the thing that's really selling it and probably alarming the kid the most is the fun accessory I acquired in the parking lot not five minutes earlier:

The "Small Scrape At my Hairline" is actually a painless but PROFUSELY bleeding head wound that I had somehow entirely failed to notice covering my face, neck, decolletage and magnificent cleavage with blood like a Tarantino Film Extra.

This does explain why The Creature has been delicately trying to use her bodyweight to push me down onto the floor for the last ten minutes. So I don't injure myself while we wait for the paramedics she hoped this kid called to arrive, you see.

The Creature has such a High and Naive Opinion of humanity.

I decide this social situation is already fucked, and the only way out is through, and with haste, before I start dripping on the floor.

"Hi there!" I say cheerfully, to indicate this is a visually alarming but not terribly serious situation. "Just a Small Slurpee!"

The Cashier has entered the relevant code into the register before I finish the sentence. His gaze flicks off me just long enough to look at the total, and he grips his Rosary harder.

$6.66

"Oh cool! I have exact change!" I say, taking the money out of my as-yet-unsanguined pocket without looking and slap it down on the counter. "You have a good night and be safe out there!" I wave, leaving.

I get in The Van, mortified, buckle The Creature up, and as I make to leave, I have to put it in reverse, which automatically turns on the backup Camera.

It also turns on the music player.

I make eye contact with the cashier as the dulcet tones of John Phillip Sousa boom from the van hard enough to make the windshield and the windows of the 7-11 rattle for the nine-and-a-half seconds I have to wait to be able to turn the volume back down. Not knowing what else to to, I give him a thumbs up, and leave.

Anyway, now I know what my Future Van Wizard has got to be dressed like, and what their familiar is.

---

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