#i feel ok rn at least

[dsfjjshgffdg]

trying to not think abt The Issues bc its the holidays and i want to have a nice time but its hard man

[skyward-floored]

Whumptober Day 7: Only for emergencies, magic with a cost

Legend again! Legend angst lovers rejoice! And also Time because I love him and Legend as a duo and I’ve barely hurt him so far this year.

Warnings: violence, blood, magic exhaustion.

Ao3 link

——————————————————————————

They always took a lot out of him. Legend’s medallions.

He never said it outright, but Time could tell after the rare occasions that he used them he was always a little more worn out, a little faster to sit down, hands shaking around his sword. The pure magic they used drained him nearly dry, and you didn’t have to be able to sense magic to see the obvious drain on Legend’s energy.

It was a lot like when Hyrule went too far with his own magic. Exhaustion, dizziness, a green potion or two, and a need for a good night’s sleep all obvious markers. Time was glad that Legend rarely resorted to using the medallions, but when he did he trusted the veteran to know his limits.

He shouldn’t have. So far Legend had used all three of them in this fight.

Time slammed his blade into a moblin, and watched in concern as Legend stumbled against a wall, using it for leverage as he stabbed a bokoblin. His face was as pale as the skin of the beasts they were fighting, and Time could see his legs shaking from here.

Trapped in a cave system by a portal spewing endless monsters, they were both exhausted. Magic whispered to Time from inside of his bag, but he ignored it for now, separating a stalfos’s head from its shoulders.

Not yet.

Only if things got really bad.

Time continued to work his way towards Legend, cutting past monsters with both normal blood and black. The majority weren’t infected, but enough of them were that it made the fight a lot harder. A clatter rang through the cave, and Time saw Legend’s sword go flying, torn from his hand by a swing from a poe’s lantern.

Legend stumbled, barely throwing his shield up in time to dodge a slice that would have taken his head off, and Time fought his way towards him even faster. He grit his teeth as he spun through a small cloud of keese, stabbed through a poe of some kind, and then ran forward just in time to block a slice that Legend wouldn’t have been able to dodge.

“Thanks,” Legend gasped, and Time nodded, quickly scanning the veteran before going back to the fray.

Legend was paler than ever, and his hands shook as he grabbed another weapon from his pouch. Time’s eye itched, but he ignored it as he viciously defended the veteran, refusing to think about it. Not unless there’s no other choice.

A roar shook the cave, and Time and Legend both faltered as two lynels ran into view, nostrils flaring. They weren’t Wild’s version of the beasts thankfully, but lynels were tough no matter the breed.

Legend’s eyebrows narrowed, and Time cursed under his breath at the look in his eyes.

“Don’t even think about it,” he said sternly, stabbing two blins at once.

Legend stumbled back against the wall again, and didn’t look at him as he began patting at his tunic.

“No, gotta... use it again,” Legend panted, hands fumbling as he tried to grab the cord around his neck. “Gotta...”

“Legend you can’t,” Time said sternly, throwing up his shield to block a swing. “There’s no way you have enough magic left to use that.” I’d rather use the mask—

“Too many,” Legend shot back, finally pulling the medallion from under his tunic. “Keep coming, gotta clear... clear p-path. Those lynels...”

Time had to look away to slash at some monster he didn’t recognize. “Legend we’ll figure out another way, do not—”

A wolfos lunged for Time’s face and he cried out as it threw him to the ground, fangs snapping at his nose. It bit down on his arm and he yelled, kicking up at it until he knocked it off. Time snatched his sword and stabbed it, breathing hard as the beast fell dead.

Magic prickled in the air, and Time whirled around. His eye caught on the medallion clenched in Legend’s hand, his teeth gritted and eyes screwed closed.

“Legend!”

Lightning crashed into the cave, monsters shrieking as electricity coursed through them. Most of them fell dead to the ground, but Time’s attention wasn’t focused on them.

He was too busy catching Legend as he collapsed.

The veteran crashed into his arms, completely limp, and Time scrambled to pick him up while the monsters that were still standing were stunned.

Blood trickled from Legend’s nose, his arms shaking where he still clutched at his necklace. Time had no idea if he was conscious or not, but he didn’t have time to check right now.

“Legend you fool,” he muttered worriedly, holding Legend tight to his chest, then bolted, leaping past stunned monsters. Legend’s actions had given them a window, and he wasn’t going to waste it.

The strongest monsters were already shaking off the hit, howling in anger as they realized their prey was escaping. One of the lynels had gone down, but the other was already getting to its feet, eyes blazing as they zeroed in on Time.

It bolted, and Time pushed himself to run even faster, stretching past his exhaustion, ignoring the stinging lines on his cheek begging him to give in. He was nearly past the portal, he just had to get outside the cave and find the others, come back with backup—

A different sort of roar came from behind him, and Time whirled, grabbing his shield and deflecting the fireball that burst out of the lynel’s mouth.

He didn’t stick around to see what it hit, but another roar rang through the cave as he bolted away. Legend was still motionless in his arms, and Time held him tight as he leapt sideways from a blade, twisting around another one.

Nearly all the monsters that had survived were chasing him now, and Time dodged and sliced, stabbed and lurched out of the way, all while Legend lay halfway slung over his shoulder.

Then something slammed into him, Time lost his grip, and before he knew what was happening he was on the ground, Legend gone from his arms.

“Vet!” he shouted the moment he realized, and scrambled to his feet, frantically casting his gaze around. And felt his heart stop as he saw Legend.

The veteran was lying motionless on the ground, the lynel’s hoof on his chest.

Time ran, ignoring his aching body, yelling as he sliced past endless monsters. They seemed to swarm to block him, and fear hit Time like a bolt of lightning as the lynel held out a blade, raising it above its head.

It was about to plunge it through Legend’s neck, Time was too far away, there were too many beasts, too fast too thick too many—

His pouch sang with urgency as Time’s eye burned and he didn’t even think as he pulled the mask out and slammed it onto his face.

His world narrowed, power rushed through his limbs. Someone screamed, a monster roared, a blade swung outward.

A spray of black.

Another scream.

Pain.

Then nothing.

(...)

Link floated.

He had a vague sense of moving, of muscles being used, his sword swinging in wide arcs. Muffled sounds reached him, but nothing distinct. Nothing clear penetrated the strange whiteness he was swaddled in, and so Link drifted, exhaustion keeping him under.

“...an...”

He stirred.

The whiteness pulled at him, cottony and safe, but Link pulled away a bit, listening.

“...ol...m...”

That sounded familiar.

The deep white pulled more insistently as he tried to listen more, sticking to his limbs, crooning and urging him to just sit back, let go, rest for a bit longer. But Link was waking up more by the second, and he began to struggle, pulling against the magic he could feel clinging to him now.

“...ime...”

Link had a vague awareness of his limbs now that he didn’t have before, one gripping something tight, his eyes staring at something. There was a greyish figure, too indistinct too make out, but the shape looked familiar.

The sight of it made something in Link’s chest pound, and he felt suddenly aware of the mask on his face, pressed tightly to his skin, meshing seamlessly with the markings on his cheek.

“Link...com...ack...”

Link raised a hand, the cottony magic turning sharp, wailing at him, begging him to stay down, stay safe, sink back into the protection he could offer, but Link fought past it.

“Almos...ere”

He raised his hand higher, ignoring the siren song of the magic coursing through him, vision still indistinct and washed out, then caught his fingers on his chin.

Then Time fell to the floor, the world snapping back in a wash of color, the clatter of a mask hitting the ground like thunder in his ears.

Time could only lie there for a moment, breathing harshly as his vision wavered. He felt exhausted and drained like he always did after giving in, and looked over at the mask, grimacing as pain streaked across the scar on his face.

Every time it was harder to let go.

“T...Time?”

Time turned his head the other direction, and saw Legend lying a few feet away, eyes half-lidded and full of worry. It was then Time realized that the cave was eerily quiet, and he slowly blinked, trying to get his vision to focus.

“They’re... gone?” Time croaked, and Legend nodded, dried blood coating his upper lip.

“All gone,” Legend breathed, his eyes sliding closed.

He coughed weakly, and Time dragged himself across the floor with shaking limbs, his eye burning. It took him a long time, but he finally managed to lean himself against the wall, and pull Legend’s head onto his lap, the veteran nearly limp as he moved him.

His vision was swimming enough that he couldn’t get a good look at Legend, but he was alive, and not suffering from any grievous wounds as far as he could tell.

It had been worth it.

Time closed his eyes, trembling with exhaustion as his breath wheezed. There was a sharp feeling in his ribs, his leg— he could smell blood, both monster and not, and he was sure he was coated in it. But he was alive. Legend was alive.

They’d made it.

“Hyp... hypocrite,” Legend whispered, and Time cracked an eye open, looking at him.

“Hm?”

“Hypocrite,” Legend repeated, giving him an exhausted glare. “You... chewing me out for... magic, then... using that m-mask.”

Time breathed out a laugh, and let his eye slide closed again, resting a hand on Legend’s head.

“You’re right,” he admitted, voice fading. “But... I don’t regret it.”

“Me neither,” Legend murmured.

Time ran a trembling hand through Legend’s hair, and the veteran didn’t resist, further relaxing into his lap with a sigh.

It wasn’t long after that that the both of them passed out, Time’s one hand in Legend’s hair, the other still holding tight to his sword.

[silusvesuius]

nnnnnnnnnnnnno maa'am

[maerhiya]

in regards to the constant dismissal of his aroace identity, i hate it when alastor 'fans' say and use the excuse: "he's fictional, he won't get offended."

like, you're right, but it can and will offend us.

when you see yourself being represented on screen, of course you'd feel enthusiastic about it — representation allows individuals to see themselves reflected in the media they consume, validating their identities and experiences. but when so many people take that representation and decide to disregard and discard it, it is so fucking frustrating. we finally have another character to be part of the tiny amount of representation we have, but then people don't even care about how much it means to us? like yeah, alastor won't get offended because he's not real, but it frustrates and annoys us. do you realize that it's also technically invalidating the aroace community? that you're invalidating our feelings? imagine feeling like you're finally being seen because your orientation is finally being represented in media, and people just decide to blatantly ignore, discard, and invalidate it.

media has such a powerful influence on real life, representation being a prevalent factor of it. there are numerous posts that dictate how people went to watch a movie/show or read a book just because a character depicts their identity in it — obviously, being represented is an incredibly uplifting and validating experience.

which is why seeing an aroace character in a popular show is so meaningful to us because we live in a world where romance and sex are literally everywhere and prioritized above all else. (and it's pretty obvious that alastor's on the repulsed end of the spectrum, but even if he wasn't, at least make an effort to acknowledge his sexuality instead of continuing to portray him as allo; aroace folks can be in relationships but it's not going to be the same thing with allos' experiences.)

any and every representation matters, but why does that seem to stop at people under the aroace spectrum? like y'all can't even let us appreciate the scraps of representation we have. we barely have any, so are we really that dramatic for being upset at how people easily disregard and dismiss our identities that are being depicted on screen just like that? is it truly wrong of us to want to defend and maintain the little representation we have?

[bacchuschucklefuck]

Riz has counted four casseroles this week alone. Five, if one goes by the method of cooking, but Yelen's scary when she's crossed, and calling her burek by its proper name is important to her, so Riz does her the courtesy and doesn't include it in his mental tally.

He holds the tupperware over his head to keep it out if the way as he takes careful steps over the piles of notes in his path. The dockman case just closed, relevant documentations handed over to relevant personnels, evidences dealt with as needed; all he has lying around now is just record of the process and traces of himself thinking through it. Unsurprisingly they still haven't invented a surface more convenient for people under five feet who like to pace to put pieces of paper on than the ground.

Actual records go into the case folder with the other documents. Anything else with at least one side still blank is going to the school kids in the block - they chew through an astounding amount of paper just learning arithmetic. The rest is for the recycling basket.

Later. It's his mandated lunch break right now.

Riz sits down in front of the corner file cabinet. In an office often overrun with papers and strings and sometimes even thumbtacks, he's never really managed to clutter up this exact square of surface like every other ones. Ever since the bottom drawer rattled for no discernible reason a day long past, his eyes have always just kinda decided to slide across the space without acknowledging it.

It's years out, now. Riz doesn't know why he thought it such a big deal anymore, back then. He wasn't scared, he doesn't think. Not anymore. Maybe just uncomfortable with the idea that certain things persist despite all efforts to change.

He opens the tupperware. Dame Carabelle's experiment greets him with enough spice in the aroma alone to knock out a small mammal. When he chopped the vegetables for this casserole he couldn't really imagine the eventual heft of it, evident even through just these few ladles' worth, maybe weighing heavier for being still warm. His folk eat more through the smell and the textures and the aftertastes than the taste itself. His folk's meal is really the cooking rather than the eating. The eating is the meal's end.

"Hey," he tells the file cabinet's bottom drawer. "Um."

It's the anniversary. Riz doesn't know the exact date of his dad's death; nobody currently alive does. He and Mom both use the date of the funeral, though as he moved out to Bastion and then got more directly involved with Interplanar he hasn't really been going to Dad's grave as much. Doesn't seem like very efficient use of his time, catching a train or borrowing a car or spending a whole spell slot on going somewhere he knows Dad isn't at. They're sorta coworkers now. They talk on and off every other week between missions. When he goes now, it's just to clean up the place, keeping the landmark tidy and respectable.

Without that work to mark the date he doesn't really know what it serves anymore. But he still remembers it. Still takes note, absently or not, when it comes around.

There's not really a good way to tell the drawer that. Riz looks for another way to start the... conversation, hopefully. The question at play, he'd guess, is why he's doing this. He's been pretty content ignoring all the rattlings and the knocks from inside and the times it sits slightly ajar without him ever opening it himself; hell, he still uses the three drawers on top of it. Space is fucking precious in Bastion.

Precious enough to finally fix this damn drawer so he gets his turn to use it? Riz asks himself. Is that what we're getting to? Then he dismisses the thought - he didn't manage to fix it the times he actually tried, let alone-- now. When he doesn't really care that much to.

That's probably a good place to start. "'s fine if you keep being in there, turns out," Riz says.

The lunch hours are quiet in the block, sleepy and bright with the brief window of sunlight that manages to break through roof overhangs and extended balconies and laundry lines and climbing vines. Riz's work isn't loud here (the loud parts happen away from his office, if everything goes right), but the fragment of early summer heat reflected in the steady warmth his meal still carries compels him to lower his voice even more. It makes the words feel intimate, in a way he's never been familiar with - if he says something he just says it. He doesn't whisper. If he gives his friends something, he gives it open-palm. He's found out, along the way, that people usually don't think of rituals and courtesies the way he does.

Small voice for a diminished monster. "You know why I think so?" Riz asks. "Because almost two decades ago you kidnapped me and almost killed me, and now you rattle a drawer in my office."

It doesn't sound as much like a taunt as Riz wanted it to; the drawer has made a lot of noises again this morning when he checked the calendar, and he was definitely annoyed at it. Now, though, facing it like this after cooking the whole morning with more grandparents and peers from the block than he can count on both hands to cater for a tenant union meeting, he thinks the annoyance has morphed. Changed shape.

It has the shades of something like pity. Riz is not prone to pity, and especially not at these kinda matters. It's slightly maddening that he coheres perfectly outside of this one spot. That he commands his spaces, except for a drawer.

He puts the tupperware onto the floor between himself and the cabinet. "I know we're aware it's the anniversary," he says at the drawer. "You do this every year. You make a ruckus every time I decide to go do my job instead of mooching off my friends' aircon, and every time I get an invitation to some stupid social thing I want to turn down, and every time one of the old people tries to introduce me to a child or a nibling, because being a bachelor over thirty is weird," he pinches the bridge of his nose. "I have three fucking jobs. I love doing my fucking jobs. I'm forcing funds into infrastructures. You're never leaving, are you."

The drawer vibrates lightly. It's a very, very mild acknowledgement, considering the history of reactions Riz has gotten from this thing. Riz thinks it's emanating joyous agreement, or satisfaction.

It only sharpens the pity. Riz doesn't like that, but it's how it is. That's, ultimately, the lesson he's been taught over and over and over again, just by existing as himself, turned every which way by space after space that don't see him eye-to-eye: it's not like he'd quit living over any of it. It's not like any of it can sand off these fundamental pieces of him.

He's outgrown a lot of things, he's found out. Again, and again, and again. A childhood home, a yearly trip, a monster.

"'s probably scary for you, huh?" He asks. "Because I left."

He thinks he hears joints creak that sound like you did. Probably the way a scorned lover would say it, in a movie or a yellowback. He has no more connection to the idea than he did as a kid. Less, because it doesn't even scare him.

"That's what it is, right? That it's the anniversary, and I'll never be like Dad." He raises a knee from the floor, pulls it back closer to him. Slings an arm over it. "You love to remind me. The thing is, Dad also left. He loved Mom and he loved me, and none of us wanted it to happen, but it still did. Because love does fuckall to make anyone stay on its own."

He's long past being bitter about it. It's just the facts. Once upon a time he looked into the future and the specter of his friends' happily-ever-after casted lightless, fathomless shadow over him. Love, marriage, that kind of devotion, to a fifteen-year-old with more solved cases than friends seemed so eternal. Final.

But you can only watch your friends build up apps' worth of jilted lovers for so long before getting over it.

"You know what I learned?" Riz tells the drawer. "Love doesn't make anyone stay. Project management does."

He stands up, and picks up the tupperware of Dame Carabelle's casserole, that he helped make, that he helped share with a block's worth of neighbors and members of a community he's at home with, and goes sit at his desk to eat. "Last chance to get any," he drops an offer over his shoulder as he walks away.

He doesn't eat all of his share in one go. What he's spared he leaves on the desk when going outside for a smoke break. Baron looks the exact same as when he saw them last, when he catches a glimpse; they haven't grown at all. They aren't there when he comes back inside, but the leftover has gone days-old cold, like someone's sucked the future out of it.

[royalarchivist]

[A sad violin song plays over an image of a sad hamster]

Pac: This doesn't have anything to do with me – I wear a blue sweatshirt, you're crazy, this mouse doesn't even have a sweatshirt, this hamster! [Reading chat] Am I a depressed hamster?

[ Transcript continued ↓ ]*

–

Pac: Actually– that's fine! I embrace that idea – of course I'm going to be depressed, are you crazy? [He hits his desk, then starts counting off people on his fingers] Fit is gone, Richarlyson is gone, Ramon is gone, Bagi and Empanada who were always there when we were there are also gone, I haven't seen them! It's just me and Tubbo, and sometimes Philza shows up.

Pac: I lost Chume Labs, I lost the Favela, I lost Murder Mystery, I lost Ilha Chume Labs, it's crazy! Look at how much I've lost, and I've gained nothing! Of course I'm going to be depressed, are you crazy?! How am I supposed to be happy?!

Pac: [Reading chat] "You have us Pac," that's true, thank you. No, that's true, sorry.

* NOTE: Please note that this is an incomplete transcript, as I was primarily relying on Aypierre's translation mod at the time and if I am not confident of the translation, I do not include it. As always, please feel free to add on translations or message me corrections.

[lilbabylemon]

🎵: happy lemon day <3

desc: a birthday treat 4 u all cuz i miss u !!!<333 i didnt cum or touch 4 over a month until i recorded myself puttin in my plug n came in less than a minute :3 ft whinin n pantin n cummin n wet hole noises like usual :p

[skunkes]

[suffarustuffaru]

hi i made a tier list of how homophobic rezero characters are

hello in the spirit of valentine's day and the very welcoming community here on rezero tumblr i decided to make this with the help of my lovely mutuals.

[hypogryffin]

i cant believe i wasn't following u b4,,,,,ive just been silently scrolling through your blog for like a solid YEAR and just haven't even noticed????? n e ways what are tha thoughts on literally anyone in p4 being trans bc i live for that 🎤

the way my brain decided that this was asking for pronoun headcanons and did not reread to make sure that was what you were asking before drawing all of this…... well anyways

[eurydicees]

shouri kondou didn't do whatever the fuck all this is just for people to go and call tetsurou kuroo straight. cut that shit out right now

[hanzajesthanza]

dandelion is indeed the worst but if he’s not present in the next book i would legitimately be sorrowful as the whole thing will become a slog . you basically cannot have the “short stories” era-of-the-timeline iteration of geralt without dandelion, it would be like eating unbuttered bread.

though it’s not like season of storms did them dirty, i wasn’t disappointed with it (… with regards to them), but since it’s literally been over 20 years since the saga was finished i’m trying to prepare for any potential reality

[imavikingo]

Everytime I look at Tumblr and see the tl I remember why I hate endgame with a passion you couldn't understand.

They fucked up Steve and Bucky so bad (yes, Bucky too bc suddenly he doesn't matter/isn't even a secondary character that deserves to be near Steve)

It's so funny to me (not) bc they talked about gay characters being in the movie at panels and interviews and even talked about Stucky at some point (basically queerbaiting) for then... Steve not even acknowledging Bucky. An awkward and impersonal hug doesn't cut it.

And Steve suddenly yearning and talking about Peggy? When he didn't even mourned her that bad and already had let her go ages ago? They knew they fucked up in CATWS with Steve and Buckys relationship, so they tried to distance them and then inserted Peggy bc ofc

(they possibly didn't have the time for a new character and they already had fucked up pairing Nat and Bruce and Wanda and Vision). Steve didn't have anyone else he cared about so they couldn't give him a new girlfriend. So they used Peggy AGAIN.

I'm not mad bc "Stucky not canon grr"

No.

I'm fucking pissed off because they did the worst character assassination and friendship assassination possible. Every movie of Cap America revolved around Steve saving Bucky at some point and him caring about him above all else, and you want me to believe that Steven Grant Rogers didn't care about him when Bucky died in front of his eyes? AGAIN? That Peggy's death was more important and impactful for him? If that was the case then why the fuck did he crash the plane then? If he cared so much about Peggy since forever?

No, that was just lazy writing and a way to reinforce Steve's sexuality "He can't be gay and you can't say that bc he LOVES PEGGY"(even tho he only kissed her once, even tho he crashed the plane and didn’t give her the coordinates, he didn't really care that much after all) they could have paired him with Nat in later movies, but they didn't.

That's why I only raise my eyebrows a lil when people say that x character will be gay canonically in a marvel movie/series. Is more than possible they won't. And if they are they're Deadpool, a secondary character no one cares about (obscure in lore too, so they can cut them off) or is plain queerbaiting again (because yes, even if you don’t see Steve and Bucky’s relationship as romantic, they DID QUEERBAIT IT)

Steve and Buckys relationship wasn't even written in a romantic way (you can ship them or not), but they tried so hard to rectify Steve's heterosexuality in endgame, that they fucked up their character arcs on purpose. And now they will always feel hollow and inconclusive. A bad taste in the mouth, a painful reminder of what it was and a what? 11 year long? characterization.

Idk man, I know I've talked about this more than three times, but omfg Tumblr reminds me why I hate that fucking movie!!! It's not my fault!!!

I know I'm going to end up writing something out of spite bc I can't take it shdkdjjcif

"It's been more than 4 years get over it" NEVER

Also the bit with Johnny Storm in Deadpool and Wolverine was also a dig (a fuck you if you will) to the fans bc Deadpool explicitly calls him Cap. And it implies that Steve as a character (not that old Steve nonsense) won't be back.

It's funny they've remade over and over again some movies (Fantastic 4, Spiderman) changed actors for characters (James/war machine, Bruce) and they include them in the multiverse/plot, but they won't do the same to some movies and some characters when they fuck up their stories, because they know if they do, they will have to acknowledge WHY they did it. Like with James/war machine changing actors.

So yeah, that's one of the reasons I don't care about Marvel anymore.

**I mean remake the movies ((Also they Can't remake Cap America bc that would mean they need to remake every important movie. And they don't have the time, the money nor the need. So that's why they decided to fuck their character arcs))

or include some characters in multiverse (they're going to do that with Tony/RDJ/Dr Doom after all, no?) and they also won't remake Cap bc the movies are amazing.

But the point stands. Steve couldn't be in DaW bc that would imply he's an alternative one or that Old!Steve was an alternative one or wasn't even Steve to begin with. But they couldn't do that ofc, no, bc that would give the fans hope in seeing Steve and Bucky together once again. So they did a dig at the fans bc "haha you thought it was Steve, but it's Johnny!"

Idk if I'm making sense at this point I'm tired af, need to sleep.

The thing is that they fucked up Steve Rogers's arc on purpose (Bucky's too, and others charas too tbh) and now they expect the fans to accept everything they give us with open arms. And imho I won't accept shit.

"Deadpool saved the MCU" how? If the other og characters are DEAD or they fucked them up too? Or are the butt of the joke now? Don't make me laugh. Most people don't gaf bout the new charas bc they only are presented in series not everyone watches (only available in one place) or are presented with characters that are dead now or as a replacement for the og characters. They aren't interesting on their own (not really, at least in mcu) and that's why most of the new stuff isn't liked as much. If they wanted to present more characters the opportunity passed already.

Also now if you want to watch and really understand 1 movie (if you don't read the comics too) you need to watch like 20 other movies and 5 shows. it's fucking exhausting.

[drusic]

bro apologized and said he’d do better and call shit out next time and ppl are still complaining about it like i’m pretty sure most of dttwt only likes dnf now and act like they like sapnap just bc dream said dteam is a package deal

[crunchycrystals]

i did not realize going into this season i would come out shipping gorgug with three different people i was coming into this with the biggest donospring mindset and yet here we are

[jamboreeartsupplies]

they're getting fitted for a new clownsuit !!!! not done yet but soon hopefully!