#but I was just - very viscerally - “NO!”

[inkskinned]

probably time for this story i guess but when i was a kid there was a summer that my brother was really into making smoothies and milkshakes. part of this was that we didn't have AC and couldn't afford to run fans all day so it was kind of important to get good at making Cool Down Concoctions.

we also had a patch of mint, and he had two impressionable little sisters who had the attitude of "fuck it, might as well."

at one point, for fun, this 16 year old boy with a dream in his eye and scientific fervor in heart just wanted to see how far one could push the idea of "vanilla mint smoothie". how much vanilla extract and how much mint can go into a blender before it truly is inedible.

the answer is 3 cups of vanilla extract, 1/2 cup milk alternative, and about 50 sprigs (not leaves, whole spring) of mint. add ice and the courage of a child. idk, it was summer and we were bored.

the word i would use to describe the feeling of drinking it would maybe be "violent" or perhaps, like. "triangular." my nose felt pristine. inhaling following the first sip was like trying to sculpt a new face. i was ensconced in a mesh of horror. it was something beyond taste. for years after, i assumed those commercials that said "this is how it feels to chew five gum" were referencing the exact experience of this singular viscous smoothie.

what's worse is that we knew our mother would hate that we wasted so much vanilla extract. so we had to make it worth it. we had to actually finish the drink. it wasn't "wasting" it if we actually drank it, right? we huddled around outside in the blistering sun, gagging and passing around a single green potion, shivering with disgust. each sip was transcendent, but in a sort of non-euclidean way. i think this is where i lost my binary gender. it eroded certain parts of me in an acidic gut ecology collapse.

here's the thing about love and trust: the next day my brother made a different shake, and i drank it without complaint. it's been like 15 years. he's now a genuinely skilled cook. sometimes one of the three of us will fuck up in the kitchen or find something horrible or make a terrible smoothie mistake and then we pass it to each other, single potion bottle, and we say try it it's delicious. it always smells disgusting. and then, cerimonious, we drink it together. because that's what family does.

[sharkylad]

Thinking about the fact that Mabel and Dipper didn't know they had two great uncles.

Yeah they are 12 and at 12 I had a shotty understanding of my family tree- But really? Nobody brought up their great uncle? Stanley? Especially since they'll be staying with his twin brother, Stanford?

Shermie never went to Stan's fake funeral, which to me means the twos relationship was strained on some level. If Shermie is older that means his view of Stan was poisoned in some way, that even as kids they weren't close. If the Shermie is younger then he never even got to meet Stan and all he knew about him was how he failed his family. Hell, people probably barely mentioned Stanley TO Shermie.

The fact that Stan had become a black stain upon the Pines family name makes me so vividly upset. Stanley faked his death and the family just- seemingly decided to strike him from the record. To pretend he didn't existed to spare themselves the sadness and shame.

Stanford and Shermie Pines. The only children worth mentioning of Filbrick and Caryn Pines.

It was never Stanford that was lost to the world. It was Stanley, ever since he had to leave New Jersy- it was always him that had to be struck from the record. Change his name, change his state, change his affiliations, destroy the remains of ghost that was Stanley Pines. Kill him so the family doesn't bring him up, doesn't ask questions, stops asking "Stanford" about his twin.

I just keep thinking about the fact that since the day he made one single mistake all the way up until Ford walks out of that machine- Stanley Pines was killed and did not exist. And Stan himself had no one to blame, he had to play the part in his own demise- He is the only one who ever knew Stanley was alive and has been for decades.

He lives in the multitudes of every personality he's ever taken, all in the hope that he himself can stop being Stanley Pines.

[ghost-bxrd]

Prompt:

It’s not that Jason forgot, per se.

But between smuggling a toddler out of the League of Assassins, trekking halfway across the world, and finding a suitable hiding place that’s also child friendly… well, it kind of slipped his mind that he’s supposed to be… dead.

Something that comes back to bite him in the ass when he takes Dami out for some ice cream and just so happens to run into non other than Brucie-fucking-Wayne

[thestuffedalligator]

The trees lumbered across the field.

It was a weird thing to watch. When a tree settled to rest or sniff at an interesting crocus, she could almost believe that it had been rooted to the spot for years; then the huge body would raise up on spidery roots and trundle forward with stupid placidity to follow the herd. When they all had settled to rest in the morning light, it was like the field had been turned into a misty woodland in seconds.

A sapling bounded up to her and sniffed at her wrist before bounding off again, spindly roots kicking with delight.

"It's pretty simple work," said the farmer. "We let them out to get some fresh air and sunlight, check them for blight. Every so often we have to lay out some manure, but that's pretty much it."

She watched the sapling. It stumbled on its own limbs and limped into the shade of its mother.

"It's pretty similar to raising cattle," said the farmer. "We raise them up for a couple years, and when they get big enough we take them down to the slaughterhouse and have them butchered."

"Wouldn't you send them to a logging mill or something?"

"Nope."

A chickadee whirred through the air and lighted onto a branch.

"There's good money in it, too," said the farmer. "There's a lot of demand for certain cuts of tree meat."

"You mean wood?"

"Nope."

There was a blur of branches. The tree ate the chickadee.

[protagonist-art]

redesigned creek cuz im sick of feeling rage every time i see him

[spaghetticat3899]

When you absolutely despise something a lot of people like, and no matter what way you look at it you cannot see the appeal, but you know you can’t talk about it in public or else you’ll get dogpiled to hell and back, so you just kinda sit there frothing at the mouth like this

[faunandfloraas]

Hyunjin looking down Seungmin's overalls 🙊 © pye0ngtay

[naamahdarling]

.

[silusvesuius]

[bacchuschucklefuck]

love thinking kipperlilly spends her afterlife looking for lucy in a familiar forest

[aroaessidhe]

2024 reads / storygraph

Asunder

slow-paced high fantasy

a woman who has a contract with an eldritch entity allowing her to see the dead & survives by taking various jobs

when a job searching for stranded smugglers in a cave goes wrong, she ends up with the soul of a dying stranger bound to her shadow

along with a scholar and her old childhood friend, they travel to his home country to find a way to unbind him and save them both

dark fantasy world with gods, demonic entities, arcane magic, and semi-sentient beasts used as transport

[leajoyrambles]

sorry to get angsty on main but I really wanna see a crossover fic where Five Hargreeves meets Bruce Wayne and the topic of, y’know, what would you do for your family, the morality of killing in a given context, etcetera comes up. And a bit of dialogue just going like

Bruce: But once you cross that line, where does it stop?

Five: It doesn’t have to stop — they just have to live.

[somnimagus]

you are worth all the struggle and bloody mess

[id in alt text]

[youling-the-ghost]

So after hearing about sfth's next D&D streams having some longform characters, I can't not create some character concepts for them.

Anyway, here's Peter Steven :D

(Also a note to @i-may-be-an-emu: I know I said in DMs that he wouldn't work well as a D&D character. I take that back, this was incredibly fun to make and druid!Peter is my new favourite headcanon now.)

Name: Peter Steven (obviously) Race: half elf Class: druid Background: prodigy Alignment: neutral good

Strength: 1 Dexterity: 2 Constitution: 1 Intelligence: 3 Wisdom: 2 Charisma: 0 (side note: this is after adding the +2 charisma from his half elf race, I originally intended for him to have a -2 charisma)

Proficiencies: survival, animal handling, nature, and medicine

Personality traits Daring and loyal, this adventurer is the ideal companion when adventuring. Between his proficiency as a healer and love for nature, Peter is a sweet and gentle soul despite his intimidating stature. While his towering height might suggest that he's more of a fighter, Peter is actually quick on his feet and prefers using hit-and-run tactics rather than fighting head-on. He contributes this, along with his strange affinity for milk, to his upbringing though the others rarely question it.

Backstory Peter was born to upper-class parents. While he wasn't quite at aristocractic status, the Steven family name was quite well-respected in the village. Peter himself was also quite well-liked by the village when he was younger, especially when he proved himself to be a studious and bright young boy. Although he had some strange hobbies and dreams, such as digging holes in his back garden and one day becoming a milkman, the Stevens showered their son with love and affection nonetheless.

However, as the days went on, Peter's height grew at an rapid—almost unnatural—rate, akin to the growth cycle of an elf. Rumours quickly spread throughout the village that Peter was an illegitimate child, and in the blink of an eye, the Steven family name was beginning to tarnish. Despite his lack of pointy ears, no villager would ever reject the opportunity for a good gossip, no matter how unrealistic it might be. After months of discreet finger points and accusatory whispers, Jemima cracked under the pressure. Peter was forced to use a wheelchair to hide his height, and he was forbidden from leaving the confines of his house. Despite her efforts, the rumours didn't cease. Soon, the Steven family name was in shambles and simply going out to the market earned the family judgemental stares and mean-spirited snickers.

Unsure of what else to do, Peter's parents sent him to boarding school to get him away from the scornful looks. Even at boarding school, the lies regarding the wheelchair persisted, and every day the guilt ate away at Peter's conscience. The boarding school was cruel and unjust, the torture chamber located in the building's basement should be enough evidence of that. Peter suffered it all in silence, believing that if he was a good little boy and behaved himself, his parents would want him back again. It was all make-belief, and some part of Peter's subconscious knew this, but every night he would whisper to a squirrel that perched on his window about the day when he would leave this tortous school and return to his life as the child of Jemima and Jim Steven.

One day after years of boarding school, a 19-year-old Peter received a letter addressed to him from his mother. He excitedly opened it, expecting an announcement that he was going home, and was met with the stark truth: the rumours were right, he was the illegitimate child between his mother and the elven milkman. In the letter, his mother explained that she and his father were divorcing, and that she planned on marrying the milkman. He was asked to join this new family as a Jeffrey, living a life that would certainly be less prestigious than before, but one that would be honest. Peter was going home.

But as he lay on his glorified rock of a bed, Peter came to the realisation that he didn't want to join this new family. It made him sick to his stomach to imagine taking family photos, with Mr Jeffrey's hand on his shoulder as if it was the most natural thing ever, all three of them smiling and acting like nothing was wrong. Then a daring thought emerged in his head: he wanted to escape.

On the day of his apparent departure, Peter sat on his wheelchair one last time and was escorted to the carriage. But just as he was about to go on, Peter jumped up and ran into the forest with nothing but his suitcase and the squirrel who hid in his scarf. That day was his 20th birthday. From that day onwards, Peter lived in the woods, foraging for food and conversing with the woodland creatures using his special druidic tongue.

[rotisseries]

tired of people who want pjo movie references in the disney+ show. "logan lerman should've been-" i don’t care. "poker face in the casino-" actually i hope ms. gaga keeps her entire discography miles away from it. i don't care move on

[swinging-stars-from-satellites]

when you get so into writing your story that it makes your heart pound and hands feel shaky >>>>>>>>>>>