#and now here i am three years later

[squisheebugdoodles]

Okay Here Is The Problem: everything costs money and yet money is something that i just literally never have. solution? kill the idea of money so that nothing costs anything Please. i'm so tired

[beeduoo]

originnssssss who remembers origins i Loved origins

[mecub]

I wrote a thing! It’s 3am! Warning for body horror and the nonsense that comes out of my brain this late at night.

You’ve been traveling for days, and you’re tired. The inn is full, and it’s too cold and rainy for you to sleep in the streets. But a woman with a warm voice like honey hears you complain, and she offers sanctuary at her home. 

You go with her. Her house is the definition of cottagecore, with a big garden and climbing vines and tall grass. She offers fresh strawberries and poppy seed bagels that she’s been learning to bake, sorry if they’re not great. You tell her that they’re amazing, and scarf down what’s probably too many strawberries, but she doesn’t seem to mind.

You spend a few days with her, recovering from your most recent battle. The two of you pick berries and cut up a perfectly ripe watermelon, letting the juice run down your fingers as you picnic in the forest behind her home. You tend to her flowers with her, try everything she bakes, teach her an old family lemonade recipe. You talk, too: about books you’ve both read (she studied classics! You have a long conversation about interpretations of Circe in modern media), about people you’ve known and left behind (“I hurt people,” you say. “Every time I get close to someone, it just blows up on my face.” She smiles, almost bitterly. “Me too.”), about your adventures (you trust her, you realize as you open up about the details of monsters that you’re not sure you regret killing).

But still, the day comes when you know you need to leave. You have so much to do, so many people to save, and sitting in the sun eating fruit is just… selfish. You learned your lesson a long time ago, about being selfish.

On the morning when you plan to leave, the woman sets out fresh poppy seed bagels— the same recipe she made the day you got there. She’s already improved at making them, in the few days you’ve stayed with her.

You tell her that, and you must sound sad when you say it because she looks up and whispers, “Ah. You’re leaving?”

Something inside you hurts at the look on her face when she says it, but you nod. “I have to.”

She just shrugs, with this look that you can’t make yourself read, and it really does hurt, but you have a duty. No matter how much a place feels warm, and safe, and calm, finally calm after everything, you need to go.

You stand in the doorway, running a finger over the climbing vines. You can almost imagine they move towards you, almost imagine this place cares for you like you’ve come to care for it.

A soft voice behind you says, “Wait.”

Your stomach sinks. Why couldn’t this be easy? Why couldn’t you just go, and forget about her, and about this place, and about feeling safe?

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

“You can’t leave.”

“I’m sorry,” you say again, and she sighs behind you. Your body twitches to turn around, to face her, but you know you can’t, you can’t.

“No. You don’t understand,” she says, and you hope you’re just imagining the something dark in her voice. “I can’t let you go.”

No. Your hand clenches on the doorframe, but you stay put. 

You’ve been wrong before, about countless things. You could be wrong about this. You could’ve just misread her tone. You can still be safe.

“What?” you ask.

Her voice is honey-smooth, too sweet. “You heard me, hero. Stay.”

Not this. Not her, not here. 

You turn.

You turn, and find her kind face twisted with hate, staring at you from across the room. Her smile is too sharp, her eyes too bright. You reach for your sword. You would rather be anywhere else but here, now.

She laughs. “I wondered how long it would take you to figure it out. It’s rare to meet a hero this naive. Your type usually don’t trust.”

Tears well in your eyes as you draw your sword and say what’s expected of you. “What are you?”

“Does it really matter? We’re all monsters to you, aren’t we?”

“You’re not a monster. You’re—“

“Kind?” she hisses. “Caring? Good?”

You nod.

She laughs, humorless. “So were the so-called monsters you killed. They were my friends, and my family. And you killed them, without regret, without mercy.” Her eyes glow, and you take a step back, but she steps forward and growls. “There were children amongst those you killed, ever think of that?”

Oh, god. “I’m sorry! I didn’t know, I—“

“Quiet, little hero. Your excuses don’t matter, because I’m not letting you live long enough to make them.”

Something behind you hisses. You spin, and find the vines around the doorway have woven themselves into a wall. You slash at them with your sword, but it doesn’t work. The vines wrench it from your hands, and you’re left defenseless against— against whatever the woman is, a witch or demon or something that you should’ve recognized. It’s your job to spot danger, it’s your job to kill monsters, yet you trusted her. You trusted her and now her eyes are glowing and a wind whips through her home and your stomach clenches and—

She raises her hands. Smiles. You open your mouth, to beg for mercy or to scream for help or something, anything, but you don’t get the chance because something inside of you is wrong.

It takes you a moment to realize that something in your stomach is writhing, growing, pushing against your guts.

The woman’s fingers twitch, and you know what’s about to happen. 

“Please,” you whisper. “I have people to save, I have to protect them.”

“So do I,” she growls, and then her hands curl into fists.

It doesn’t hurt, for half a second, when your stomach bursts.

And then you’re on the ground, sobbing, screaming as poppies curl around berry bushes that burst out of you, petals glistening with your blood. 

The only mercy of it is that your body drops you into unconsciousness quickly and that, after she’s sure you met your end painfully, she leaves you to the forest and lets your body become food for the plants growing from your guts.

At least you can do something good in your death. At least, even though you failed to save the world, you’re good enough to be fertilizer.

[cuteniarose]

The consequences of my poor financial decisions are here!!

[indigopoptart]

man i love the people im surrounded with. how did this happen. youre all so lovely😭

[dismalzelenka]

.

[noroalia]

dont ever move back home. you'll live there for two weeks and already been reminded every day, multiple times, what a failure you are

[keeps-ache]

this blog is 3 years old !!! :DD

[ajaxdishsoap]

Jesus did not say that every time we rebuke or abuse the poor and down-trodden we're rebuking and abusing Him for Christians to put conditions on their aid for people

[tuttle-4077]

The 2023 Papa Bear Award Winners

The votes are in! Thank you to everyone who participated in this year's PBA. You can find a list of the winners here! Congratulations to all the honorees!

[pepprs]

june 27th give it up for june 27th

[magentagalaxies]

happy birthday to the incredible paul bellini!!! may this be the best bellini day ever

(picture on the left is from the first mouth congress concert i went to last december and picture on the right is from my first ever zoom with paul bellini which is going to be exactly a year ago in a few weeks. so surreal how far our friendship has come since then, he's genuinely like family now)

[peachyteabuck]

sometimes I remember how the gf and I met and I cringe so hard. Imagine you think you're going on a date with some tinder lesbian and suddenly they're shoving their tongue down your throat

[ginalinettiofficial]

i am. still just so glad i got out of teen wolf when the cast started falling apart. like season three was such a shitshow from day one and made me INSANE as it was airing and i just could not continue to watch for season four after they killed off or wrote off essentially half the cast and killed all the found family potential and i will admit!!! that seeing crystal reed herself on a new teen wolf story DID tempt me!!!! i am only human!!!! i am not immune to allison argent!!!! but truly i know myself and i know that the show died a horrible death for me over the course of s3 and there’s a lot of good reasons i stopped watching it and those reasons will sustain me through my decision to not watch this new movie

all that said. @ my loyal six followers. please do not be alarmed if i end up temporarily in a teen wolf revival moment. i am not immune to allison argent and the nostalgia of it all DOES make me want to go back and reread all the old classic pack fics from before davis decided to start killing kids left and right !!! i am not immune to the powerful energy of sterek writers, nor to the call of pack-fics!!!!

[bobmckenzie]

every time I think about the backstory I made up for Danny and Becky's mom I have to laugh... the hoops I went through just so I could say they weren't in love with each other... 💀💀💀

[evadingreallife]

🤷🏻‍♀️