#i typed it on my phone

[sp-growingpains]

Campfire Stories

Hey so real shit. I got an ask about my silly OC that turned into a quick short story! Ignore this if you want! I'm just getting the old writer brain working again.

TW: Blood, Horror, Body Horror, Mention of suicide. A horrible attempt at writing horror!

Tiny little chips of fire flicker off the roaring flame. That warmth translates into both temperature and color. Red and orange eating away at the smoking, dry firewood. How could one define a summer night quite like this?

A bunch of tipsy, high out-of-their-mind assholes sitting around a campfire. It was a good thing Stan lived so far away from town and that his dad was gone for the weekend at some farmers' market. The backyard of a farm was the perfect place to get away from it all. If you weren't Stan literally any other day of the year.

The lip of the cheaply bought gas station beer clicks against the twin black rings on her bottom lip. A familiar buzz runs down her spine, swirls to the front of her stomach, and settles there for the night. She tilts the bottle back until the liquid is all but a memory.

The flames light reflects off the bottle as it goes soaring through the air, shattering against the side of the trashcan. Jean quirks a brow at it, only a bit surprised she actually made it into the trashcan this time.

"That story was kinda lame, dude. How was that supposed to be scary? Jean-Bean! Tell them a real scary story!" Jean finally tunes back into the conversation going on around the fire. A slurred chores of murmurs followed by a light-hearted command to quiet down by Kenny.

"I was telling it fine!" Poor Clyde's face screams betrayal. He lets his hand fall down onto his leg in defeat.

"I know your 'and-then' headass isn't talking! Hush, chatty monkey!" Red is quick on the draw, shooting the brunette down before anyone else had a chance to. The rest of the group finds humor at his expense.

"What story am I telling?" She stretches out a hand, giving Clyde's shoulder a little squeeze as she sits up in the foldable chair. It creeks a bit under sudden shift, the four legs tip back to two, then back to four.

"That toy maker one!" Kenny grins that easy-going smile. His voice - just loud enough to create that tension that one could pluck out of the air.

Jean can feel her lips tug into a smile, mirroring her childhood friend. There's a glint of mischief in both their eyes, a silent conversation that comes from years of knowing one another.

"Ah... the toy maker. Yeah, I think I remember how that goes." There's a pause thrown in there so she can lean forward on her knees. Propping herself up on her elbows, she stares into the fire. The warmth helps her gather her thoughts, bringing her into the mindset.

"Every story starts with a rumor. Words on the wind - whispers in the ear of another. Over tea or coffee, little lunch dates with friends. This one is no different... well... aside from the fact there are no records of this tale. All of it is told by tongue." Jean clicks her tongue ring against the little metal rings on her lips. Her eyes dart from person to person in tempo with her tongue.

"In a little town, off the coast of the shores of South Carolina, lived a toy maker and his family. He didn't start off a toy maker. No, that came later in life. At first, he was an artist, a business man, and a doctor. Quite the established fellow, having achieved so much in life." She pauses again. This time so she can fish around in the bag of marshmallows resting near her black boots. The sugary puff sits between her fingers, already beginning to melt from how close she's sitting next to the fire. It creates a stringy sticky film around her digit.

"As such, his family was well off. His children and wife never wanted for anything. Neither did the town. They rejoiced in the parties the toy maker threw. Every night was something different. Food, drink, song! What more could a town ask for?" She pops the marshmallow in her mouth, chewing it without a care in the world. The only other sound is the laughter of the fire and Red shifting in her seat.

"So, of course, the toy maker grew restless. At the request of his darling little girl, he learned to craft toys! It started off with little toy trains and wooden dolls. Puppets on a string that would laugh simply because he willed it too!" Her body snaps up as if she had strings attached to her elbows and shoulders. Clyde jumps back a bit, his body finding comfort next to Kenny. The sudden shout coming from the raven haired woman pulls the attention of the others. "Now, not only was the toy maker supplying the town with his medical expertise and money, but now it was entertainment! The chileren of the town loved the toy maker!" She tilts her head, still moving as if someone were pulling her strings.

Red bites her lip, tucking the ruby red paint in between her teeth. She swallows back any urges to interrupt with a swig of her alcohol. The shallow gulp catches Jean's attention. She waits until the drink is down her throat before she starts tapping her tongue ring against her teeth.

Click. Click. Click

Tick. Tick. Tick.

"Goes the passage of time. See, I may have lied to you. Not everyone loved the toy maker. The mayor of the town was a stern man, a spiteful man, a jealous man." Jean tuts softly. "Always looking for a way to buy back the love and admiration of his people. He simply couldn't stand that the toy maker was soaking up the spotlight. So when the time came for another party, he attended this one. With one goal in mind. He would simply...snip the strings of the toy maker. One.at.a.time." She emphasizes each word by dropping her limbs limp. The story cuts the invisible strings, keeping her arms up.

With her head hung low, her knuckles brushing against the cold earth, her long black braids dangling by her her, she murmurs. "First is starts with a little poison in his wife's drink. A glass of wine that hides the taste of the deadly concoction. The poor, poor toy maker spends his days trying to nurse his wife back to health. All the while, his children are being taken care of by the staff. Then goes the youngest son, who played a little too close to the shores of the Atlantic. The dark blue tides gobbled him up and spit him back out. When he came home, his skin was dark blue, and his skin was cold to the touch."

Her body begins to move and twitch again. Twisting her taller frame up so that way she could peer up at her friends. She catches the eyes of Tolkien, the fires light making the brown of her eyes shine like pools of honey.

"Oh, how kind the mayor had been to return the boys body to his father. Oh, how kind the mayor had been when he told the toy maker that it was his fault; after all, it was due to his negligence that his son died. Oh, how kind the mayor had been indeed."

Jean sits up fully now, slowly rising to her feet. She gestures for Jimmy to take her seat, practically walking on air that she's captured his attention. Having someone like Jimmy stop and listen to your story was like winning a medal of honor. She begins the slow walk around the fire, casting a tall shadow over the group.

"What was a man to do? His youngest passed away, and his wife still wasn't getting better. What could he do? Well...he could...lock himself in his workshop and his office? Yes! He could...shut the doors to his estate, letting only the staff in and out of the house! Brilliant! Oh, and of course he could...put that medicals degree and toy making skills to work!" Her hands suddenly snap over towards Kenny's shoulder, grabbing the material the orange parka like a lifeline.

Kenny only chuckles and lets her use his arm for the dramatic effect. He lets his body go limp so she can lift up his arm.

"His dear sweet wife only needed a tune-up! Just a few new parts, and she'd be good as new! The toy maker was a brilliant man, but even he knew better than to attempt anything without a little practice first." Her voice drops to something more smooth. She lifts Kenny's arm up and inspects it for a moment, pretending as if she were the man in the story. "So it starts with a servant. The poor old nanny was on her last leg anyway~! He was doing her a favor."

Jean hums quietly, stuffing Kenny's arm back into his jacket. Which, thankfully, he obliged and slipped his arm into his coat. She drops his sleeve and moves towards the other arm. Gingerly, plucking the glass bottle out of his hand and setting it aside. "The toy maker lured the old woman down into their basement. There, he sedates the woman, rendering her helpless to his twisted experiment. Unfortunately for her and him, the old woman's body just didn't take to the doll nearly as well as he hoped. It moved and talked, but it lacked the soul. But do the first attempts ever really work?"

Jean goes on to tell the group about how the toy maker slowly picks off servants and how it isn't until he attacks the head chef that it finally works. All the while, she's hiding pieces of Kenny's body in his coat. Each limb is another victim. When she gets to the chef, she's holding the sides of Kenny's head.

"Finally, he had done it! The chefs soul took to the robotic husk! He moved and talked like the beloved family chef, ever loyal and kind! Just in time, too, the bodies in the basement were beginning to pile up too high. The townsfolk were beginning to complain about the pungent smell. A meeting was held, where they begged the mayor to do something."

She grins down at Kenny, who was only pouting because she was tossing his head back and forth. Her fingers gently dig into his cheeks as she guides his face around. "The mayor was so happy to have his people back. They needed him. They loved him. Him, not that silly toy maker. Of course, he'd answer their calls!"

Her hands stop their playful movements. She moves her fingers down towards Kenny's chin, tilting his head up so he's looking at the people surrounded by the campfire. More of the people they grew up with have stopped to listen to the silly tale. She wasn't sure if it was really scaring anyone, but it was nice to be so entertaining. Kenny didn't seem to mind the attention either. He was trying, so hard not to grin. The next part of the story required him to focus.

"So, the mayor rounds up some brave folk, and they march straight up to the manor. They bang on the doors of the once beloved home. Their voices ring out into the night, demanding the toy maker meet them! Tick. Tick. Tick. They can hear the sound of a clock ticking... but it's not a clock. It's the maid. She opens the door."

Another pause.

"Where there should be flesh is porcelain. Where there should be a steady heartbeat is a ticking of a clock. Glassy eyes greet them, then the broken voice of a woman long gone." Jean mimics a bow, gesturing for some invisible town folk to walk inside a manor that is not there. "Oh won't you come inside. The master is busy at the moment, but the least I can do is get you refreshments."

It would be comical the way her voice pitches up an octave. It doesn't fit right on her tongue, she made a mental note to work on that later.

"The townsfolk reel back in horror. What was the abomination that just opened the door?! How did it move so fluidly. Immediately, they knew they had reached the doors to hell. The smell of decay and rot assaulted their scenses. It churns their stomachs and sets off that part of their mind that tells them to run. Unfortunately, they don't get the chance to."

Jean smirks, her lips twist across her face showing off those sharp canines. "So it starts with the men in the back. The sound of a buzzing, fleshing being torn apart. Screams of agony and panic."

At that exact moment, the rev of a chainsaw comes out from the fields that surround the Marsh farm. The engine sputtering to life with a thick growl.

"Through the mist of blood, the townsfolk could see the failed experiments coming from the unkempt yard. Their twisted limbs and toy parts clawing and ripping through their loved ones! With no place to go but in the manor, they push their way in! The mayor scrambles inside, screaming, begging, pleading to whoever will hear his prayer until he's down to his last four men. Just him and these poor souls, trapped in the deep dark corners of this once great home."

The sounds grow louder, as if the chainsaw was getting closer. If it wasn't for the grin on her face, maybe someone in the group would suggest they leave. Clyde, who was trying to enjoy the night, looked as if he was about to pass out. He clung to the expensive material of Tolkien's shirt for dear life. Red had Bebe tightly secured in her arms, a relaxed look on her face through the whole thing. Butters was on the edge of his seat, watching with those soft baby blues.

"Hands of all shapes and sizes reach out from the darkness. They grab onto the men's legs, pulling them away. Their finger nails scrape and leave marks into the wooden floor boards. The buzzing sound hasn't stopped. It's just the mayor now. All alone in this hellscape, he helped create. Just as he thinks he's going to get pulled in, his mind racing with all the horrible things the toy maker would do to him, the lights flicker on. He's sitting in the corner of the ballroom. In a room with people dressed so neatly and perfectly. Music kicks on, and a heavy waltz begins. The stone cold faces of people - no...dolls begin to move past him."

Jean starts to hum the gentle tune of what the waltz might have been. It's a little difficult over the sound of the chainsaw, but somehow, they make due. Just as she reaches the crescendo, a blur of another human moves out from the shadows.

Flashes of red curly hair illuminating from the fire, a chainsaw raised above his head. Kyle revs it once more over the chorus of screams and laughter. It wasn't often Broflovski joined in on things like this, but the chance to scare a few of his classmates was one he couldn't pass up on. Especially if it meant getting to bust out the old chainsaw he used on Halloween that one year.

Once everything has calmed down, Jean continues the story. "They say that if you go to that small town, on nights that are calm and warm...you can hear the whole town gathering at the manor. Their immortal doll husks danced the night away. All except the toy maker, of course. Poor man never succeeded in keeping his family together. The wife, his children, the servants, even the mayor. They all live an eternity with each other... but he had to live with what he had done. Eventually, he couldn't take it anymore...and just -"

Jean turns Kenny's head with a quick push of her hands. The blonde goes limp and falls forward with a heavy thud. He lands next to Bebe, who lets out a blood curdling scream.

"Oh my god!"

"Jean what the fuck?!"

"Dude!"

Again, it isn't until both Kyle and Jean fall into a fit of laughter that the group stops. Under their laughter, they could hear Kenny's raspy laugh under it. He slowly sits up and pops his neck back into place, creating a moment of silence.

"Oh, the things we do to make ourselves look like assholes~." Kenny coos, sitting up with the help of Butters. The sweet man is quietly praising Kenny.

For the rest of the night, Jean has a smile on her face that's a mile wide. She could handle the name calling and people half-assed bullying her. It was all worth it for this, Clyde was crying and Bebe was scolding her.

She'd pay her dues later that night when Jimmy took his turn. Curled up in her seat, holding onto Bebe and Red both as if they were nothing more than a stuffed animal, letting Clyde hide his face into her back.

Summer nights never felt so warm.

[minjimunji]

bi 4 bi percabeth,,,,, 👉👈

[arcanegifs]

Arcanegifs' Arcane Season 2 (2024) Character Poll Winner: Vi ↳ "Vi was strong because she was afraid. Her fear of losing us what made her fight so hard."

[the-worms-in-your-bones]

What they don’t tell you is that if you get good enough at doctor who tumblr you don’t even need to go looking through the tardis wiki, your mutuals will just know that shit

[sukunasweetheart]

Sukuna, a middle aged man jaded by the harsh realities of his life. He steps outside for a smoke nearby a convenience store, completely bored out of his mind.

A lady is handing out flyers nearby, although nobody is bothering to look her way, including sukuna himself.

You approach the man who's getting irritated by the lighter that refuses to work in his hand.

"Hello there, sir. Would you be interested in taking up classes for arts and craft?" You offer the cute flyer up.

Sukuna scoffs. Is she serious?

"No thanks."

"Are you sure? You look like you could use a bit more colour in your life."

He's too exhausted at this point to get angry at a random woman on the street.

"...You're not too far off, i suppose," sukuna mutters, still trying to get the spark to stay on his lighter. "Even so, I'm not interested in the likes of arts and craft. Do i look like a child to you?"

You withdraw your offer of your flyer, and inspect him for a moment.

"Arts and craft can be enjoyed by anyone, regardless of age. But moving past that... you seem a bit down. If you'd like to confide in a stranger for a night, I'm happy to listen."

What a strange, persistent woman. Sukuna gives up on his lighter, and takes out the unlit cigarette in his mouth to think back for a moment. One thing does come to mind.

"I'm not feeling down. But i remembered something, now that i think about it..." he confesses, feeling weirdly compelled to tell you about it.

"Today is supposed to be my birthday."

Birthdays have never been special to him. Nobody celebrated his birth as a child, and in turn, he's never paid attention to the birthdays of others.

"Oh, happy birthday. Are you doing anything special for yourself today?"

"No. I've never cared for birthdays. And I'm getting too old for that anyway."

"Well, that won't do... Hold on for a second."

Puzzled, sukuna looks back at you but you've already gone inside the convenience store. Whatever you're up to now, couldn't possibly be more enticing than getting in a proper smoke right now. Sukuna begins to zone out.

He only snaps out of it when something mildly cold grazes past his cheek, leaving a ticklish and moist sensation on his skin as it disappears upon impact.

Bubbles. Bubbles are flying past him, and floating away into the sky.

For a moment, he gets mesmerised by the swirl of colours that are harboured in each one. Even just from the light of this dingy street, they fly up while holding a multitude of different colours inside them. Time seems to slow for a split second, and he doesn't understand why.

His gaze follows the trail to identify it's source. And unsurprisingly, it's you, standing behind him. You blow a couple more out, and then grin at him childishly. He finally looks at your face properly for the first time.

"Birthday bubbles. For the birthday man," you chuckle sheepishly, knowing that you probably look a bit silly right now. You put the bubble wand back into the small bottle of the soapy mixture, and screw it tightly.

"Here, you can have it. Next time you're feeling a bit antsy, why don't you try blowing some yourself? They're pretty, aren't they?"

You also hand him a different small item.

"And i also threw in a little something else, while i was at it."

He looks down, and sees that it's a new lighter. He slowly pulls his hand out of his pocket to take both of them from your hands.

"I hope you get to do something more special next year. Birthdays are supposed to be joyful, after all," you comment.

"Thanks for putting up with my nosiness. Farewell."

And then you leave him after a quick wave.

Sukuna stares wordlessly as you walk off, wondering what to name this ticklish feeling rising in the pit of his stomach.

The small bottle in his palm reminds him of a moment in his childhood. Kids in the park bragging about their bubble wands that were gifted to them. the laughs that resounded as they all ran off to catch the fragile spheres as they blew away in the wind. The tiny feelings of envy in his heart.

The item he tucks away into his pocket is the lighter. And when nobody is watching, he blows a couple more bubbles into the night sky.

-

Every time he passes by that convenience store, the thought of you comes to his mind. A flashback of your smile in the back of his mind. Every so often, he comes to this particular store. Despite having closer options, he comes to this specific one.

At times, sukuna regrets not taking one of the flyers that you were handing out. He wouldn't have had to mope around a convenience store in hopes of running into you again.

Today is a rainy day, and this calls for a hot piping cup of instant ramen. He doesn't usually enjoy convenience store food, but he wants a reason to stay around inside for a bit longer.

He needs to wait five minutes for the noodles to soften. In this time, he stares out the glass frame of the store, and watches the various rows of people walking past with their umbrellas opened.

There appears to be one anomaly in the crowd, however. Running without shelter from the rain, clutching her bag as if it contains something important in there. Sukuna realises that it's you.

Forgetting about his instant ramen, sukuna grabs his umbrella and dashes out the door.

You're mildly panicking about being stuck behind the red light at the zebra crossing without anything to save you from the rain, but the sensation of the droplets hitting your body come to a stop all too suddenly.

You look up, and there's a black umbrella sheltering you, big and strong looking. You spin around and recognise the stranger with pink hair and sharp eyes. Seemingly out of breath.

He signals to the light that has now turned green behind you, and ushers you forward to cross the road before you can say anything to him.

Now safely on the other side of the road, you begin to converse with him.

"It's you! Hello. Thank you for sheltering me. How have you been?"

"... So-so. Nothing's changed since the last time we met."

"I see. You look better than last time, though." You get the feeling that his eyes have a little more light in them.

Sukuna doesn't really get what you mean, but he moves on.

"What’s in your bag that's so important for you to be protecting it like that?" He asks, effectively changing the topic.

"Oh, this? I literally just bought some brand new origami paper... i can't risk getting them wet and unusable. The children would be disappointed."

"Origami, huh? How original."

"Hey! That's not all... there's a lot of options i offer them. They voted on origami this time."

"You got a lot of people signed up?"

"Not really... but I'm sure it'll start picking up soon. Slowly, one at a time."

You smile up at him hopefully.

"...is the offer still open?"

You cock your head to the side slightly, confused. Sukuna grits his teeth, feeling a little bashful about having to ask more specifically.

"You know. Lessons for grown adults."

"Oh! Of course, anytime! Would you like to come sign up today?"

"Do you offer one-on-one sessions too?"

"Yes, I do."

"Alright. Let’s go."

Sukuna can't fathom the words that are coming out of his own mouth. But fuck it, what's the worst that could happen? You've somehow intriged him, and he can't think of a better way to approach you.

You chatter his ears off along the way, and he nods along while his shoulder gets wet from the way he leans his umbrella closer to your side.

[silvermoon424]

This is a subject that really interests me because I (28 years old) had computer classes in grade school where learning how to efficiently type was a big focus. As a result I have a very high WPM (words per minute) count and am an excellent touch typer.

However, I've heard that they started phasing out computer classes in a lot of schools because it's assumed that kids/teenagers already know how to use a computer in this day and age. But smartphones are more popular than computers now, and as result a lot of Gen Z/Gen Alpha kids are able to text very quickly but their typing skills aren't as good.

[bacchuschucklefuck]

january month of yuugi

[saydada]

“too small umbrella” redraw! (2025 - 2020 - 2017)

[illusioncanthurtme--art]

[niteshade925]

Saw these tags in a reblog of my Chinese museum posts, and thought I have to make a response just so everyone is clear on how archaeological studies are carried out in China:

^Well, the Shaanxi Archaeology Museum is a Chinese museum displaying artifacts found in China, it's not the British Museum lol.

But anyway just so everyone knows, modern Chinese archaeology has a rule, which is that unless it's absolutely necessary, an ancient tomb/mausoleum should not be disturbed. This means that many of these artifacts in the museums are found in a few main ways:

Tombs that absolutely had to be excavated because there were clear signs of grave robbing present, for example when tunnels left by grave robbers were found near a known tomb. This is called "excavating to rescue" (抢救性发掘), it's done by teams of archaeologists, the artifacts found will then be studied and eventually find a home in museums in China. In comparison, actual grave robbers would steal artifacts and sell them for money; many stolen artifacts would end up in auctions, mostly outside of mainland China. This is why there is no "general positive sense" in the phrase "grave robbing with grant money" when it comes to archaeology in China. Modern Chinese archaeology and grave robbing are simply not comparable in any way whatsoever.

Tombs that absolutely had to be excavated because new infrastructure will be built in that location. Such exacavations are also included in excavating to rescue. Examples include tombs in Xi'an city that had to be excavated because a metro was being built. Since Chinese people and Chinese culture are native to China, there are no ethical problems whatsoever, this simply a question of what matters more, the welfare of living Chinese people or the abstract afterlives of ancient Chinese people. Obviously, the welfare of living Chinese people is a more important matter. As for the argument of "but this goes against traditional culture", first, a culture is only alive if the people of that culture is alive and doing well, otherwise that culture is as good as dead; second, a major part of traditional Chinese culture IS focused on the welfare of descendants (ex: the belief that the spirits of ancestors will protect their descendants), so I'm sure our ancestors would be proud to see us doing well.

Tombs that were excavated because archaeologists were absolutely sure that artifacts discovered within would make major contributions to the study of Chinese history. This is pretty much the only exception to the rule of "excavating to rescue", and it is very rarely allowed. An example is the Xia-Shang-Zhou Chronology Project (夏商周断代工程), where the main focus is to gain a clearer picture of the timeline of ancient Chinese history, when dynasties began/ended, when major events may have happened, etc.

Artifacts that were found when arresting grave robbers. These are called "recovered artifacts" (追回文物).

Artifacts that returned to China from foreign countries, these are called "returned artifacts" (回归文物). A big portion of these artifacts ended up in foreign countries precisely because of grave robbers, and another big portion were and are still lost for the same reason as why the British Museum has so many artifacts from around the world.

Artifacts that were discovered scattered throughout China. There are three facts to consider here: 1) China has a long history and as a result, there are vast amounts of existing artifacts; 2) tombs are material things and thus are subject to the elements; 3) not everyone is an archaeologist. Combine these, and you have situations were valuable artifacts were found in places like the chicken coop of a farmer (this is how the eagle-shaped pottery ding was found).

Donations. Some artifacts were family heirlooms that were donated to museums.

[crumbsispoggers]

Guardian on a Minecraft hat

[pangur-and-grim]

Hi! I have a dinosaur question for you, but idk how ridiculous it might be. So I love triceratops, and I keep thinking about how the cowards never give the dinosaurs feathers. What do you think triceratops feathers would look like? My uneducated mind pictures something like a peacock.

so with dinosaurs, we have to rely on fossil evidence. if there’s evidence of feathers, then they should be depicted with feathers. but if there’s instead evidence of scaly, pebbly skin (like with most ornithischians), then it’s more accurate to depict them with that. the most you could give a ceratopsian is feathers that have been modified into quills, and even then you’d have to do research on the specific species you want to depict, to see if that’s reasonable. I would be hesitant to give Triceratops quills. take this with a handful of salt, but I think the latest on them was weird nipple-like scales.

it does seem like proto-feathers were a basal trait in dinosaurs, because the pycnofibres that pterosaurs have look to be feather analogues (meaning that the archosaur that branched into dinosaurs and pterosaurs likely had proto-feathers), but there are many lineages that went on to lose those feathers. even some theropods (the classic feather group!) may not have had feathers. so it isn’t always a matter of cowardice, it’s more that we have to pay attention to the evidence wherever it points, even if that means we don’t get a fun fluffy T. rex or peacock triceratops. and I am definitely mad about this.

[thingsmaygetalittlecrazy]

My humble offering to the choccy gods 🫴🙏🙌😉

Clora is hyper-focused on school and Seb is hyper-focused on Clora 😌🫶

I saw a photo of a couple like this and all I could think was how SebClora coded it was LOOOL 😆 and honestly this piece may not be my fav thing but I learned so much while I made it and im just glad I didn't scrap it during any of my frustrating moments 🫶💖

I HOPE YOU LIKE IT @choccy-milky 🫶🫶🫶

(Just ignore all the sloppiness and errors I'll do better next time, I didn't even know what clipping layers WERE when I made majority of this 😅)

[xxxsugarcyanidexxx]

fucking robots that actually look like robots. You agree. Reblog.

[catastrothy]

went to the game store today and had a bad experience

[choccy-milky]

✨ pokémon AU! 🔴✨ clora is mainly fairy & psychic (bc shes sweet but also smart) whereas seb trends towards fire/dark (even tho i only ended up giving him 1 dark pokemon...shhh) i originally gave him a houndour, bc dark + guard dog was such a perfect combo for him, but arcanine ALSO suits him and is way cuter so i had to go with that 🥹 and i had to fit in a raven and a snake pokemon somewhere bc...cmon🥰 BAHAHA

TYSM to the anon who inspired this!! it was so much fun