#and then i liked it so much i made it again on my computer

[pathologicalreid]

a long way to go | s.r.

in which your family breaks no contact and Spencer reminds you that you're doing the right thing

margovember

kindergarten teacher!reader masterlist

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: flangst? (hurt/comfort) content warning: nondescript childhood trauma, kindergarten teacher!reader word count: 1.4k a/n: okay so the request was for angst and it is but the comfort gives fluff. at this point my genres are arbitrary. huge shout out to anyone else who isn't going home for thanksgiving for one reason or another.

Frowning at the email on your computer, you shifted your weight on your rotating chair and leaned your head back into the chair cover that Garcia had crocheted for you.

We’d love for you to join us.

It felt as though someone had tossed a bucket of ice water over your head, years and years of blocking emails and leaving your phone number unlisted had culminated in this moment. It shouldn’t surprise you; you worked at a public school and your email was listed in the faculty directory, but the sight of your father’s name left a sour taste in your mouth.

You were alone in your classroom, the fluorescent lights were turned off, leaving you in the gentle illumination of the string lights that you kept threaded along the walls. Contract hours were over, but you still had papers that needed to be completed. Opening your email after the final bell had thrown a wrench in your plans.

A knock on your door pulled you out of your haze, you looked up to see Spencer standing in the doorway. You checked the time in the corner of your monitor to find that it was nearly six, well into the evening, and you hadn’t even noticed. “Did we have plans?” You asked, alarm rising in your tone, you looked down at your day planner and didn’t see anything, but that doesn’t mean you didn’t miss something.

“No,” Spencer said immediately, wanting to quell any of your anxieties before they had the chance to develop. “I hadn’t heard from you today, so I might’ve asked Garcia if she had your location on your phone and found that you were at work much later than usual,” he told you, setting his messenger bag on one of your student’s desks before leaning against yours.

You leaned over your desk, setting your chin in your hands and sighing. “You found me,” you mumbled unenthusiastically, eyeing your monitor again.

He’d cut his hair again, in a moment of frustration he’d started snipping, but he ended up calling you for help. It no longer feathered the tops of his eyebrows. “What’s wrong?” Spencer asked, tilting his head to the side and tapping the bobblehead you kept on your desk.

Taking a deep breath, you shook your head, “Nothing, I just have a lot of work to do.” You were designing a holiday coloring page, making the outlines yourself because you didn’t like any of the ones you found on the internet.

“Okay,” Spencer responded, extending his vowels. “Now you’re lying to me,” he said. It wasn’t an accusation; he was merely stating the truth.

It bothered you that he was right, and it bothered you that you lied to him. You shouldn’t feel the need to lie to him because, really, if anyone was going to understand how you felt about the email, it was Spencer. You wedged your hands beneath your thighs, keeping yourself from digging your nails into your palms, “My father sent me an email.”

Dad felt too casual, and his first name felt too detached. He was just your father, someone who had been chosen time and time again over you, and whom you hadn’t spoken to in nearly six years. “When’s the last time you saw him?”

“Five years ago,” you answered distantly, remembering how he’d had the nerve to show up at your college graduation even though the rest of your family knew you weren’t in contact with him. Wetting your lips, you looked back at the email on your screen, “He wants me to spend Thanksgiving with him and his family.” People that you shared no connection to—blood or otherwise—and made up the family that had taken your place in his life.

Spencer straightened up a stack of papers on your desk, the shuffling sound so familiar that it put you at ease, “What do you want to do?”

You pinched your eyebrows together, not used to someone asking for your wants, “I want to reply to him, but I know that engaging with him would be equivalent to opening the floodgates.” Releasing a dam of trauma that wasn’t suited for your kindergarten classroom, “I can’t reply to this email.”

Nodding softly, Spencer studied your eyes with a pained look in his eyes, “I know, honey.”

Taking the computer mouse in your trembling hand, you scrolled over the email and blocked the sender before deleting the email and deleting it from the trash for good measure. Hot tears welled in your eyes as you wrapped your arms around yourself, “I hate him.”

You despised him. A man who you shared blood with just so happened to be someone you hated with bone in your body. Bones he had contributed to that you wished you could pull from your body and replace with an untainted set. What was worse was that he had the ability to influence your emotions like this, he could make you angry with nothing more than digital mail.

Anger felt so useless, it was something he used as armor, and you feared that by being angry, you were becoming like him. You were so horrified by the mere idea of your own anger that it made you cry, and you were terrified of your life becoming one big circle.

They say if you grow up with an angry man in your house, then there will always be an angry man in your house. All you needed was to believe in Spencer’s ability to be gentle, but nothing Spencer did would change the fact that you cried as soon as you were pricked with rage.

Spencer crouched in front of you, taking both of your hands in his larger ones and keeping them warm for you. “You don’t owe them anything,” he told you, watching you carefully with his big brown eyes, “It hurts. I know it hurts right now, but you know that you just did the right thing. I’ll remind you of it for as long as it takes for you to believe it.”

The dam broke then, tears fall from your chin to your lap as Spencer gathered you in his arms to the best of his ability, you tried not to flinch away from his embrace. You reminded yourself that he wasn’t there to hurt you, he was there to help you. He ran his palm flat along your spine as you gave in, burying your face in the crook of his neck and basking in the darkness of your own sorrow.

“You did the right thing,” he muttered softly, pulling away and using the pads of his thumbs to wipe away your tears. “You don’t need to apologize to anyone about it,” he said preemptively, knowing you were about to apologize to him for your show of emotion.

You nodded dazedly, leaning your cheek into his palm as he cupped your face with his hands, “I don’t know what I do now.”

Spencer smiled gently at you, “We’re gonna keep moving forward. Are you hungry? Do you want to get dinner?”

Sighing, you shrugged despondently, looking back at your now blank monitor, “I should get some stuff done.” You wiggled the mouse and typed in your password, you stared blankly at your unfinished coloring page, any and all motivation to finish the drawing had vacated as soon as your father made contact.

“What if,” Spencer started, “You come home with me tonight, and tomorrow I’ll come in with you? You can finish up your work and I’ll get to spend some time with you.” Spencer Reid might just be the only person willing to accompany you to work on a Saturday just because you’re having a hard time.

You bowed your head, “You don’t have to do this, Spence.”

He hummed in response, “I want to, and besides—we have plans to make.”

You frowned, your head lifting so you could look him in the face and inquire for more details, “Plans for what?”

“Thanksgiving,” he responded as if it should’ve been obvious, “You’ll get to join BAUsgiving this year, it’s one of Garcia’s favorite holidays.”

Faltering, your eyes widened at his insistence, and you took a deep breath, “I’m not… I don’t want to intrude on your family time.”

Spencer raised his eyebrows incredulously, “Honey, you’re part of that family now. Besides, sometimes I think the team likes you more than me.”

[icarusredwings]

Do you guys ever think about dementia Charles seeing Pietro and getting sad or becoming really happy because his poor mind connects the dots that he's Erik? It dosn't compute that this wouldn't be Erik because hes too young to be Erik rather assuming that he is young Erik and not exactly having the logic to understand that they are so differently aged.

"Oh! My old friend, you've gotten a haircut. Quite bold of you. It makes you look much younger."

".. yeah, yeah, old man.." he mutters, trying to avoid him best he can, but sometimes, when the others are busy, he can't stand to leave him alone. Coming to sit with him just to litsen to him gab about random nonsense, talking so fondly about his X-men and memories dear to him.

"Do you remember?"

"Do I remember what?"

"When Jean got her first bad grade and she cried to you about how cruel I was to her." He chuckles softly. "And all she got was a B-"

Pietro stares at him like he's crazy. Jean cried to his father? But why? He had his own children to take care of. So why would he treat her like that? It makes him a bit angry. "No.. I don't. What else?"

"Hm?"

"What else happened? With jean and my da- erm. Me."

"I believe it's Jean and I." He corrects his grammer, making the younger man roll his eyes in annoyance. Once a professor always a professor I guess.

"Sure. Jean and I.."

"You acussed me of being too hard on her, but when I explained it, you laughed... I haven't seen you laugh like that in so long.." It's sort of now that Charles remembers what's going on. Who he's talking to.

"..Im sorry. Who are you again?"

"Well you like to call me speedster."

"Pft. No I do not. Mr. Maximoff.. you've grown so big since the last time ive seen you."

'You just saw me yesterday' he thinks but makes that awkward smile and nods. "Yup.."

"Youll have to forgive me. Im not always.... here."

"I know.. are you alright?"

He shrugs in his chair. "About as alright as anyone could be in my situation." Ah yes. The paralyzed old bald man who was losing his mind still had jokes. Funny. But sad. He remembered him being so similar and yet.. so different.

It's not long before Jean comes to give him his medicine again, convincing him that it was for the kid's saftey. "You don't want to hurt them. Do you, Charles?"

"No... but I'm not that gone yet. I can decide when it's best to take my medication."

She smiles so sweetly at him. "Professor, you made this time schedule yourself. Im just doing what you told me. You always knew best for us."

"Oh.. well, alright then."

Before Jean can walk away, He stares at her.

"....Why did my father like you?"

"Excuse me?"

"Charles... he said.." He trails off, not sure how to say it without talking too quickly.

"He said you cried to my father. And.. he defended you."

Jean tilts her head. "I wouldn't say defended. I was just a child having a fit." She admits then shifts, looking at the walls as if remembering.

".. He was here a lot.. and then he just.. stopped coming. Im sorry. I don't know why. Like I said I was just-"

"Didyoureadhismind?"

"Uhm.. just a couple times."

"Jean used to con you into getting her ice cream." Charles smiles, closing his eyes, reminiscing.

"He.. got you ice cream?"

Jean's not dumb. She understands his frustrations, glancing at the old man and then to Pietro again. "Like I said.. I was just a kid.. I was just excited to be able to use my powers. I didn't mean anything by it. I didn't even know he had other children."

"...He never got us ice cream.. he didn't even bother sign my birth certificate.."

"Im sorry, Peter... Professor? Tonights dinner is potatoes gravy turkey with apple sauce. Remys making it so it might be a little spicy."

"Oh, that's alright. He means well. Erm.. thats the blue one right?"

Jean snorts. "No Professor. He's the card one."

"Oooh yes. Reeemmyy... right." He says his name slowly as if trying to connect 'the card one' to 'Remy' in his brain.

"...Bye Peter." She says, now awkwardly leaving.

"Remys that rat from the cooking movie" Pietro whispers and Charles' eyebrows raise. "Ahhh! Remy! That's right."

He might be an x-men. But he could still pull a little evil here and there.

[nineparlor69]

Oh, boy...

I made a Sonic creepypasta. Please, do not unfollow. I finally built the courage to do this, so bear with me for a bit. Okay? Okay.

Behold, Sonic Mortem.

Sonic Mortem, part one.

It was a pretty fucking boring night as usual. I was just browsing through some cheesy horror games on a site I was on, none of them really catching my eye. I don't know if it was how bad it looked, or if it was something else, but a certain .exe game managed to catch my eye. The title: Sonek EXE. I don't know what it was about this specific shit heap of a game, but it seemed more interesting than others. By the looks of the screenshots, it was probably another bloody jumpscare-fest. But what the hell. I was really bored and needed something to do. So, I decided to download it. After it finished installing, I opened the game and gave it a try. It of course had stolen sprites from the original Sonic.exe game, and the gameplay was no different. Well, until I got to the part where you were supposed to play as Knuckles. For some reason, I was still stuck with Tails. Maybe the dev was too lazy to put in the other characters. I brushed it off as simple slacking, and continued playing. As I kept trying to get Tails to run to the right, I realized that this had been going on for a while without even getting anywhere. He was just running, and running, and running. I took my finger off of the key, but Tails wasn't stopping. Maybe the key was stuck. I tried pressing it a few times to get it to work again, but it didn't fix anything. I watched as Tails ran before he finally came to the end of the level. Tails stopped moving entirely. All of a sudden, my disc drive opened. It had a disc in it, which was weird because I didn't put a disc in it. Maybe my little sister Abby was messing around in my room again? I thought that was the case until I got a good look at the disc. Sonic the Hedgehog 2. I didn't own that game. Not physically, at least. What the hell was a disc of it doing in my house? It was all scratched up, though, so it wasn't like I could play it. I decided to look back at my monitor to see if anything had changed, and I really regretted doing so. On my screen was Tails, face pressed up against the screen and breathing like he was running out of air in his lungs. He had this look in his eye… Like he was watching me, like he knew me. If it was a simple trick the developer of the game put in to scare a player like me, I would have just seen it as a petty scare and moved on. But I couldn't explain the disc it somehow put in my drive. I glanced at the disc of Sonic 2 in my hands, looking at the scratches. They looked like claw marks, similar to a wild animal. Like a fox… I looked back at the monitor after hearing a loud thud, and Tails was gone. Instead, I was greeted by the bloody blue bastard just leaning against one of the tree sprites. I decided to try pressing a few keys like the space bar or arrows, but they did nothing. All I heard were the in-game footsteps or jumping noise. Like there was something invisible. I felt a shiver run down my spine as I got the sinking feeling that someone, or something was watching me. I looked around my room, panicking as I felt like I couldn't recognize my surroundings. Vibrant colors and dim furniture blurred into one as I took in my familiar bedroom's layout for the last time. I looked back at the computer once more, seeing words in red on the screen. "I SEE YOU, ALEX. JOIN ME." And it all went to black. Now I wait. I wait for someone else to find me and set me free. Won't you come let me out, dear reader?

Sonic Mortem, Part two.

(Trigger Warning for gore!)

It was a pretty great day. Things were finally looking up for me. I got a sweet new house that had tons of room, and there was even a fully furnished gaming room.

I decided to unwind after all of the unpacking I did a few days prior by playing some video games from that old room, ready to play something really good. But, there wasn't much of anything. It was mostly some old retro games like Sonic or Metroid. Sure, they were good, but not quite what I was looking for.

I hopped on the old computer in the room, taking a look through all the old games on it. There were tons I really loved playing, and even a few others I've never played before.

I noticed a really odd game, a game called "Sonic Mortem". Probably an old STH2 ROM hack. I booted it up, met with a kick-ass title sequence. It didn't say who the devs were, though... The game started, and I realized that this was just another cheesy .exe game. But hey, maybe it wasn't going to be so bad.

Of course, I got through the classic Tails bit, getting that shithead fox killed and moving on to the real good stuff with Knuckles. But... Knuckles wasn't there. It was Tails. Again.

I kept playing, thinking that maybe the game would get better. I wasn't paying attention, and I soon realized that Tails was moving at break-neck speeds. I didn't see much from how fast Tails was going, but he seemed to have ran over and crushed something red. Oh, no. I went towards the right, shocked to see blood, bone, and brain splattered all across the floor. And there, laying in a big puddle of blood, was the headless corpse of Knuckles the Echidna. It looked so real, too...

A pop up appeared on screen, Tail's smirking mug plastered on it. I heard a voice. It wasn't demonic and low, though. It was synthetic and high. And what it said shook me.

"I'll be straightforward with you. I'm no god or spirit. I AM THE GAME. But I'm also the player. Do you know why, Tray? It's because I played YOU. And I'm going to keep toying with you for as long as you live. But of course you'd want to know why. Why I killed Knuckles. Why I'll never leave you be. Because it's FUN. And it was fun with that coward Alex, as well. I'll see you soon..."

the screen turned off, and the disc drive opened. Instead of a disc there, there was a newspaper. I picked it up, and immediately recognized it. It was the article about a boy about my age who went missing a while ago. Was this a threat?

I tried to go to bed, to forget what just happened, but it wouldn't let me sleep. It STILL won't let me sleep. I can hear something under the floorboards, scratching and scratching nonstop.

scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching

To be continued...

[jesterable]

flowey and frisk are siblings and i wont take a single other take. chara is there in Spirit! Ha ha . get it

[divorcedfiddleford]

and you may say to yourself: "my god! what have i done?" and you may tell yourself: "this is not my beautiful wife!" and you may tell yourself: "this is not my beautiful house!" and you may ask yourself: "well, how did i get here?"

time isn't holding up, time isn't after us, time is a pony ride! (images described in alt text)

[cloysterbell]

Pete, I need you to stay here.

[skeletalheartattack]

hi I like gelato a lot

[ghostprincessworld]

Headcanon that at some point, when they are like 27/28 Gauntwood goes on like a 1 month "vacation" without any of the staff. It will be nice to be truly alone together. They rent a cabin that is a bit isolated, not to far form markets and such.

However, they forgot to account for the fact that they don't know how to take care of themselves:

Day 1&2

Going alright, they brought a few meals with them. 

they are free to love each other openly in this private place, this place is beautiful and they love it!

except when they go to bed, they note that the bed had not been made that morning. This is never properly resolved. There are a few attempts to make it, but they resign themselves to a poorly made (mostly an unmade) bed

Day 3

Prepared meals are gone. they go to the market, They have a fun time.

Sidney has no doubts they can figure it out, Henry is like, "Have you ever cooked a chicken before?"Well, no, but I used to watch my mum do it when I was a kid," Henry has absolute faith in his husband because he's an idiot 

“So we just put it in the oven? The chicken and the veggies?" "Yeah that's how my mum did it!" (They are making roast potatoes, carrots, and chicken)

they didn't use any seasonings, butter, or oil, the chicken is overcooked, so dry and plain. The potatoes and carrots are too hard and burnt at the same time. 

"Sidney, I love you, but this is disgusting."

“No, you're right. If you stop loving me, I'll understand." 

they end up picking through it just eating the least inedible parts it's not a lot, and they eat a lot packaged snacks that night

Day 5 

Henry has a brilliant (terrible) idea, he's going to make them breakfast, eggs, and lamb sausage.

Sidney comes into the kitchen when there is smoke everywhere

they put out the smoke, and the (unseasoned) eggs are burnt to the pan.

"WHAT is going on!!!" "I was uhh... making breakfast..."Why did you cook it so long?" "Excuse me, I didn't want us to get salmonella!"

For dinner, they plan to make pasta. Together, this is going to be a team effort. Henry immediately puts the dry noodles in a pot and no water, Sidney stops him.

They call Maud, and she laughs at her useless brother and his husband but agrees to help

"Okay now you'll wanna add any veggies to the sauce" "veggies...?i didn't get any" "okay skip that, just add your seasonings" "seasonings?" "Okay... it gonna be a bit plain"

"Why are all noodles sticking together weird?" "Did you salt the water like I said?" "Oh..."

S: what if we heat the water up twice as hot , then we can cook the noodles half the time 

H: No, it will probably burn them

M: idiots you can't heat water past boiling

Pasta is plain, but edible

Other cooking mishaps:

Pasta take 2: no veggies again, goes way to hard on the seasonings, add like every single one, there is cinnamon in the pasta

Henry makes eggs(unseasoned) bacon and toast (only a little burnt)

"Henry, I love you so much, and this is so sweet, but I don't eat pork"

"Oh god! I knew that! The butcher was just looking at me, and I panicked. " Henry is about to cry

Sidney spends way too long slicing (mutilating) a loaf of bread with a meat knife

Cleaning

By day 3 all of their clothes are wrinkled because they don't know how to iron and they didn't pack them well

It fine they are mostly being seen by just each other, but it makes them feel icky

At the market a woman is looking at henry, and he get insecure and just tells her unprompted that his wife is too sick to iron

By 2 weeks in they have no clean clothes

S: What if we just sent it all to the dry cleaner

H: You wanna send our underwear to the dry cleaners? No we are supposed to be learning this, we are living a simple life

S: What if we were just naked from now on

Back on the phone with Maud, they learn how to wash clothes. They have pasta stained clothes they can't fix. Clothes are wearable again, still wrinkly :(

They wash no dishes for the first 4 days, it's a terrible mess. It takes 15 min to scrub the burnt pan because they didn't realise they can soak the bad dishes

The whole place is a bit dusty by the end

Fun stuff

There is a lake on the property and they go skinny dipping

They fish (and successfully cook it over a fire)

Stargaze: “hey did you that constellation [insert greek info dump]” nerd

Ellwood convinces Gaunt to dance with him

They play card games

They get to be domestic without any prying eyes

Overall, they had a great time! They picked up some novice-level skills along the way and, despite the chaos, they’d be willing to try this again in the future (and they do). When they get back they are this close to kissing Luis on the mouth.

[james-spooky]

this is a test

[theygender]

I've got too many games I want to play and not enough free time 😭 I still need to finish my BG3 playthrough but since Endless Ocean: Luminous came out I've been playing a lot of that instead. Also just got back into Wizard101 last night. Started playing House Flipper again last weekend. Still need to finish BOTW so I can start a TOTK playthrough and finish Pokemon Shield so I can start on Pokemon Violet. I've been fighting off the urge to start up a new Skyrim playthrough for weeks. My brother just told me that Paper Mario: The Thousand Year Door is getting ported to the Switch. And now I'm suddenly feeling inspired to replay DAI... And throughout all of this I'm also playing the hell out of DragonVale on my phone. Someone just pay me to play video games all day please

[salty-software-engineer]

Man I just finished Babel and I was excited to read discussions online because there's so much going on in it with so many little things and just....angry white people. Everywhere. Truly a dead dove moment.

[frankierohugejorts]

is anyone here good with computers?

hey guys, so ever since jude died i've been trying to sorting thru his socials and stuff, and ive been trying to like. see if i can archive some of his stuff, especially pictures and videos of him

ive been trying to do this on tumblr, but bc his privacy settings are set to 'hide from ppl without an account' i cannot use an original post finder tool and i can't even access his /archive page, and trying to scroll thru his blog manually is almost impossible bc eventually the site reloads and sends me back to the beginning, and changing the page number in the url manually does nothing, so i cant even find my place again

ive been looking into those webpage archiver tools, (like tumblthree i think?) but i don't understand enough about computers to know how to run most of them im finding in places like github, and even if i did i only have access to a chromebook, so im unable to download a program, especially one that runs on windows or linux

anyway, im basically wondering if there's anyone who knows about computers who might be able to give me any sort of advice or point me in the direction of a decent archiving site or chrome addon that doesnt require any special apps and might be able to actually access jude's blog, and maybe won't give me 8 billion viruses???

[dullahandyke]

didnt even touch on the sandra lynn stuff int he tags of the last post bcos if i talk about her im liable to explode. get behind me, middle-aged divorced woman proficient in archery

[wandering-wolf23]

Yesterday, my 12 year old laptop died.

This machine was an XPS laptop. It was in perfect working order up until the motherboard decided to die. I've swapped keyboards, screens, batteries, and a track pad on this thing, all with the help of YouTube. I actually wanted to get this machine repaired until I learned it would be about 3 grand for a repair that might work. There would be no guarantee and it would be hard finding someone willing to work on a computer that old.

I'm paying someone for data recovery because he can do it better and quicker. When that's done and I have the hard drive, I'm going to donate my old XPS. It can still be repaired if you have the right part and enough time. People do. I'm donating it to a program that takes old computers like these, fixes them, and gives them to low income students. This computer will probably last another 5 years (or more). Parts for it are easily purchased on Amazon.

My new computer is coming today. It's the same build, just slightly newer. It will last me another 12 years I hope. I will repair it as needed. Parts are easily available on Amazon. It will do everything I need it to and, when it's time, I'll swap it all over to a new computer from that same series.

Being able to repair my own machines has made me an XPS user for life. It allows me to save money and cut down on e-waste. So many people are stunned that my old computer was 12 (the one I had before this was 15 before it failed). We are so used to a society with disposable technology that it's genuinely shocking to people when someone says they fixed their own laptop.

But why should people try? So many laptops are made so you can't just unscrew and pop the back off. So many computers are made to fail after two, three, or four years. So many computers are made to force you to buy a new one for whatever capitalist bullshit reason.

I'll gladly pay extra for right to repair and a solid build with easily available replacement parts. That's what's important to me.

[lesbianraskolnikov]

I dont agree that crime and punishment could never be perfectly adapted but as I always say. German expressionism or animation. There is no other choice im sorry.

[pyrriax]

hi tumblr im pyrr pyrriax and im in my trimonthly artist arc, lord help me and all the projects that are currently sitting in my drafts while i am lured in by the siren song of drawing