#but anyway. this is funny im having fun. in a way.

[bright-and-burning]

nearly 800 words of norrussell-y stuff based on this post. idk if it's going anywhere so im posting it as is :)

Lando’s tried a lot of things, alright. He’s pulled out all the stops. Gone through all his tricks, and then some.

Last time, the young couple trying to make a home out of Lando’s home left after just a few slammed doors and a shattered plate. The time before that, it took nothing more than cold drafts and some banging on the radiators.

He’s not bad at haunting. He’s quite decent, really. Manages to get long stretches where he’s unbothered, which always has Charles in a huff at their quarterly meetings. He didn’t have to pick a flat in a tiny country with a very expensive housing crisis. Not Lando’s problem there’s constant demand in Monaco even for units with a nasty habit of seeping blood from the walls.

Either way. Nobody’s stayed in his home for longer than six months.

This dickhead’s getting pretty close, though.

He’s fucking infuriating, is the thing. Lando likes haunting. He has fun, snickering gleefully into the sleeve of his hoodie as whatever soon-to-be-former resident he’s fucking with packs frantically to move out.

It’s no fun when they won’t play his game.

George Russell is an accountant. Or a barrister. Or something equally boring and stuffy and un-fun that has him leaving every morning at 7:30 sharp in a nicely pressed suit with a leather bag just dinged up enough to be classy.

Even worse, he’s logical. To a fault. Hangs onto pragmatism like it’s going out of style.

Like he doesn’t keep his kindle stocked with fantasy novels. Lando had peeked. Couldn’t touch it, what with it only having been here a few months, not belonging to the house yet, but he hadn’t needed to. Not when George had set down the tablet to pour a glass of wine and left it face up on the coffee table.

Likes his fiction full of magic and romance and fucking dragons, but God forbid the guy consider for even a moment that he’s being haunted.

Icy cold air filling the hall in late July? Oh, freezer must be on the fritz.

Picture frames falling off the walls? The landlord had said not to use nails on the plaster.

Cupboard doors slamming open and closed at night? Loose hinges. Really, really, really loose hinges. And that pesky draft from earlier. 

Lando’s honestly not sure how that explanation could pass even a little bit of inspection, but George is satisfied.

He’d gotten all new furniture too, so Lando can’t even flop face down on the couch and groan about it for another month. He just goes through, when he tries. Ends up hanging out with the dust bunnies underneath; it’s nice enough down there, dark and enclosed, that he hasn’t stopped launching himself onto the sofa when he’s frustrated. 

He’s under the couch a lot. The dust bunnies have names now.

Lando’s started slamming doors in George’s face, just to see what’ll happen. He’s careful about it, timing it so George won’t actually get hit, but he makes sure it’s close. Maybe if the rush of air ruffles his hair enough, he’ll put the clues together.

Charles has started dropping unsubtle hints about how fast tenants leave when blood pours out of the faucets.

It would work, maybe. Or maybe George would call municipal services, concerned about contamination with the local reservoir and the quality of drinking water in his community. 

It’s not Lando’s style, anyways. Bloody handprints across the ceiling just isn’t as funny as waving his hands around to draw a fluffy dog’s eyes to an eerily empty corner. Takes a lot more concentration to float up high enough to reach, for one. And he likes dogs. They can see him; sometimes, he can even touch them, running his hands through fur and reveling in the warmth of life against his skin.

George doesn’t have any dogs. Or cats. Or fish, even, though Lando’s not sure how he’d get them to behave oddly enough to draw attention. He’s certainly not touching them.

George’s got nothing but his stupid fucking scientific explanations, apparently. Lando’s sick to death of it. Sick beyond death. Whatever.

He sends the door flying shut, centimeters away from sending the dirty dishes George was taking into the kitchen crashing to the floor with it. It's the closest he's cut it, so far.

When Lando sticks his head through the wall to see if he’s finally come to his senses, he’s already reaching for the doorknob, muttering about pressure differentials and open windows.

Lando goes and lays under the couch. His scream is muffled by the carpet.

Not that George would hear anything but a faulty radiator.

[konfizry]

Viscint's policy of offering housing to Renan refugees on the strict condition that they accept the Ideal of Coexistence sure is. Something that they're enforcing huh. Drashin mentions screenings that applicants go through?? which. yeah. thats. that's great.

So yeah now the Renans are building an ethnostate right outside the city gates ^_^

[wasyago]

we're at it again🕺

[bmpmp3]

finding out ur coworker is way older than you thought and having to very quickly reorient how you talk to them

[codacheetah]

The start of the Loop segment of the Siffrin & friends twitter QNA, and the message that flipped Loop's answers from silly to dodgy and blatantly upset.

Loopchat from speaking to Loop 20+ times.

Certified Loop dysphoria post

[computerram]

finally started BG3 👍

[thegreatyin]

this nemesis ambition started out a little slow but I am getting closer to finding that bastard who killed my wife, and I’ll not rest a minute now that im far closer to on his trail

sorry got in character for a second

Anyways fun ambition so far very fucked up though

congratulations on joining the murder club anon!!!! depending on who you ask the name refers to either people who have murdered or people who have witnessed murder. usually both. actually extremely often both. it's a swell time you'll feel right at home (don't mind our collective skyglass knife collection in the back)

[miraclemioart]

mashing together my two teenage years interests for dopamine

[danielnelsen]

well that's just a lie

[squipedmew]

sometimes you have bad mental health days and then sometimes you decide to rewatch Voltron: Legendary Defenders

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

Hey, you remember all those vague asks about someone angrily writing a Sans x Barnaby fanfic?

Yeah, well, I did it.

I'm working on the rest of the fic, gonna have at least 10 chapters with a bunch of lore sprinkled in between, but here, have this snippet for now:

All was peaceful in Home, as it always was. That's what Barnaby loved most about it. Everyone was friendly, playful, always willing to listen to his jokes (even if some of them were bad, and he got a tomato or two thrown at him in response.) He especially enjoyed spending time with Wally and Howdy, always willing to teach Wally a new joke or two, before using those new jokes in Howdy's Bugdega.

This particular afternoon, however, Barnaby was lazily lounging under a shady tree. Howdy was busy with some new stock in the shop, and Wally was playing a new complex game with an excitable Julie and a reluctant Frank. As for the others, Eddie was busy delivering mail, and Poppy was helping Sally with a new playscript. So, here Barnaby was, alone and letting out a loud yawn while coming up with some new comedy acts.

“Hm… maybe an airplane joke? Nah, nah, I've already made plenty of those. Something about bones? That could work, but how would I include the topic into an act…?” He mumbled to himself, putting a paw up to his chin in thought.

Then he felt the ground under him… shift.

Sink.

Slowly sinking deeper beneath him.

“What the..?” Barnaby looked down, confused as to why the grass seemed to be growing higher around him.

The sinking began to grow faster now, panicking the big beagle.

“W-Woah, woah, what's going on?!” Barnaby tried to scramble off the ground, but before he could, the grassy ground fell under him all at once. He yelped as he fell beneath the tree's roots, falling down a tight twisted tunnel. Barnaby reached his arms out, in the hopes of latching onto a stray root to climb his way out, but to no avail. He let out a grunt as his head harshly hit a rock on the way down, and his vision went black.

Barnaby didn’t know how long he was out for. However, he did know that, instead of waking up at the bottom of a dirt tunnel like he expected, he woke up in… a snowy forest?

“Ugh…” Barnaby groaned, wincing as he slowly sat up, rubbing the back of his head. With another wounded groan, he looked around in his new environment. The sky seemed to be replaced with a rocky roof, indicating that he was still underground, but… that doesn't explain the evergreen trees or the snow that seemingly fell from nowhere.

“… the hell..?” He mumbled, confused and unsure what to do.

“Hey, buddy.”

Barnaby stiffened at the sudden voice, turning around slowly. There stood a… a skeleton?

“I think you dropped this.” The skeleton spoke in a lazy voice, wearing a blue hooded jacket and a seemingly-permanent toothy smile on his face. In his left hand, he held Barnaby's hat, tilting it out to the beagle. Barnaby must have dropped it when he fell down here.

“Uh… thanks.” Barnaby hesitantly took the hat from the strange skeleton, trying to offer a friendly smile in response, before putting his hat back on.

“No problem,” the skeleton replied simply, putting his hands back in his pockets. “The name's Sans. Sans the Skeleton. What's yours?”

“… Barnaby. Barnaby B Beagle.”

“Nice to meet ya, Beagle. So, what were you doing on the ground? Didn’t look like you were making snow-dogs or anything.”

[oceanwithouthermoon]

i think its weird that i have to make this disclaimer but the internet is crazy so wtvr,, anyway,,

if i say i dont like something, that doesnt mean "that thing is bad and nobody should post it.."

i swear literally every time i even mention that i dislike something, people will go "wow does that mean u fucking hate me cuz i post that thing? ur a fucking stupid bitch and all ur opinions r wrong" LIKE ?? er.. no. just because i say i dont like certain characterizations of certain characters (the saiki k fandom is CRAZY about this cuz i can state an opinion on literally any character and a group of people will still go 'well only we're allowed to post our opinions about them because we're always right!1!1!'), or certain ship tropes (mentioned my hatred of toxic yaoi maybe once or twice on here months ago and people STILL get mad at me as if i said toxic yaoi lovers r evil or something), or certain ships, or WHATEVER, does not mean that i HATE the people who are posting them or that i think they shouldnt post them at all, NO, im just posting about my personal tastes on my personal blog and it would be extremely weird and hypocritical if i decided that i was the ONLY person that was allowed to do that,,

i think the only reason people assume that is because there are a lot of other people on here who ARE like that, and a lot of people toe the line between posting that they dont like something and posting that they think everyone who likes that thing is stupid, annoying, and wrong,, so i guess all i can say is, sorry for whatever made you make these assumptions but they arent true about me so plz leave me alone ʘ‿ʘ ur doing the same thing to me that ur accusing me of but i didnt do it in the first place so ur just actively being a dick for no reason

[sukunasweetheart]

Why do you like Sukuna so much?

I was halfway through writing up a few paragraphs but i ended up scrapping it bc i ddint knwo what i was saying anymore. Hes just. My everything

I JUAT LOVE HIM SAUR MUCH WHAT IS THERE NOT TO LOVE??#;@**# HES SO GRRRRAAAHHHHHHHH 💝💓💝💓💗💗💘💓💝💕💘💞💓💝💗💝💓💝💞💝💞💘💞💓💝💓💓💝💘💞💞💝💓💝💗💓💝💘💞💕💘💞💘💓💓💗💝💓💝💘💞💘💕💞💝💓💝💓💞💝💞💞💝💞💓💝💗💝💞💞💝💓💝💓💝💞💞

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[deus-ex-mona]

we’re really in it now chizuchan…

[megumi-fm]

.