#i was considering adding legs

[angelmalocaris]

Turned this squash into an isopod with two toothpicks. It is very cute to me

[serpentarius-fr]

That snapper post reminded me I'd been meaning to draw my own interpretation of snappers, so here we go. There's a lot of issues with them that I think result in them being so unpopular, and I wanted to approach how I'd polish up and fix those issues while still trying to remain somewhat true to FR design conventions.

Firstly, give them an actual beak! For supposedly having one it doesn't really look like it. I also somewhat changed the brow ridge, inspired in part by the brows on some dinosaurs (particularly tyrannosaurs) to give it a fierce appearance. I like the spike-chin, but I think it could lean into the rock-beard look a little more, particularly on males. Adding some to the jawline doesn't hurt either. The other main dimorphism I added was thick jowls to the males, inspired by lizards like tegu and iguana. It just looks cool to me :)

Legwise I hate their hands, they don't even look that good for digging plus they have like, 0 dexterity. I wanted them to still look like they'd be awkward to use for holding things (hence why they may have more oral than written history!) but also look like they could dig deep into the earth. One of the biggest issues with snappers is their awkward crouched hind limbs, and I think they look a lot better if you make them plantigrade.

One of the other sore points with snappers is that their wings look somewhat tacked on. I don't necessarily think removing them outright is necessary though, plus that breaks modern breed design conventions. Making them look more vestigial and unformed helps them fit the design a lot better. I think they'd also have heavy scales on the back to add extra armour.

Speaking of which, I wish canon snappers leant into the armoured snapping turtle/crocodile/ankylosaur look more! Make those legs spiky and scales chunky! I fixed the weird spikes going under the wing and had them go behind instead, keeping the entire backside well armoured so all the wings have to do is close around the sides to protect that area.

I also fattened the tail up a bit more just to sell the fat reserves implication, seeing as they live in a desert-like climate. I also exaggerated some of the last spikes to something nearing a stegosaur thagomiser. More dinosaur inspiration to make them look fierce, and fits in with the whole heavily armoured thing.

Its sad that snappers are kind of close to dragon designs I really like, but miss the mark. They could be so cool man!!! I should get around to finally buying some snappers and just design them all to look like this.

[thatscarletflycatcher]

Tumblr isn't letting me find again @fictionadventurer's and my own posts on epistolary novels, but I have been thinking about it again, because I fell down a Goodreads review rabbit hall and I have thoughts again.

So many people dislike the style, and honestly, I don't blame them, because it's so often done... not well. It is in some aspects, a deceptively easy one, and in others, deceptively hard. And because I'm trying to write a novel with this format myself, I have been thinking about what makes or breaks an epistolary novel.

I talked yesterday about TGLPPS, because it is an interesting case to analyze. I have thought many times about it, and cannot think of a single non-merely-aesthetic reason for it to be told in an epistolary style. A lot of it depends on -British- people who have survived some terrible war conditions willingly opening up to a stranger about their experiences, and that's made... even more difficult if the medium is letters? typically writers will appeal to tropes like making the reserved character drunk, or have them share an extreme experience in isolation with the stranger to create sudden intimacy. None of this is possible in writing; if anything, one is much more self-conscious about the things one writes than the things one says; verba volant, scripta manent.

It seems to me the story would have flowed much more naturally if Juliet had been stranded on Guernsey for some reason -like the first author herself!- suddenly Dawsey commenting that he got a book from her library makes so much more sense! Yes, certainly, if you met a stranger out there, and they introduce themselves and you realize you have a book that once belonged to them, you would tell them so! And it is in this way that the epistolary format does violence to a story that would otherwise sound much less contrived.

Another problem is the large cast of characters and multiple settings. For all I complain about Dracula, Stoker manages this pretty well (of course he has the model of The Woman in White, but TWiW has fewer povs), at least on the first half, because structurally the storylines of the characters are converging, and that does a lot to guide the reader in the understanding of the character's relationships. TGLPPS's relationship structure is more of a multidirectional flow chart, and that becomes confusing really fast.

Another novel I read reviews for recently is one set in WWI, composed of back and forth letters between two lovers torn apart by war, and one common complaint was... that the climactic scenes, the times they meet, etc all happen... off-camera. It is a fair complaint, but also one I cannot really blame the author for, because that's what usually happens with real life compilations of letters of that kind. Sure, usually the editor/compiler will fill in the blanks sometimes and add an epilogue of sorts explaining what happened afterwards, and that is possible if you are writing it fictionally too, but some may think it spoils the effect of immediacy and whatnot, which, fair too.

But it makes me think of how aware Jean Webster was of these difficulties, and how deftly she managed them in both Daddy Long-Legs and Dear Enemy. Both novels have aged badly in terms of content and message, but they are very interesting stylistically.

DLL is a bildungsroman with a dash of romance; through Judy's letters to daddy long-legs we can see how she grows as a person, gaining independence intellectually and economically, and as a writer, as her grammar and vocabulary change and grow. Between making Judy an orphan who hates the orphanage where she has lived her whole life, and one where she lived past the usual age of being thrown into the world, Webster does away with the need for letters between Judy and her friends and family: all her friends and family are her college roommates and her benefactor, who is the person she writes to. The benefactor scheme also makes it so that she doesn't have to write dll's replies, which in turns makes it much more natural and acceptable for the reader when Judy writes him the ending's love letter describing the feelings and impressions of their finally meeting in person and in truth; Judy has become a writer, and she is so used to write to him as another person all the time, that it just makes sense for her to write to him one more letter at the point where her benefactor and her lover become one and the same person. She has written a novel where the core is the correspondence between lovers AND managed to include as well all the moments of their meetings that we would otherwise miss.

Dear Enemy is a similar, but longer and more ambitious story. Instead of one relationship-connection (Judy and Daddy's), we have Sallie as a nod of connections: she's Judy's friend, Jarvis' "employee", the boss of several characters, has a tense colleague-boss relationship with the visiting doctor, a boyfriend of sorts in Washington, and a family we have met before. It is, in that way, a similar setup to TGLPPS: a urban girl of means becomes a fish out of water in a different setting till she ends up assimilating to it, and settling definitely through marriage. But Webster does a few things differently to make it click.

For starters, it is clear to her that this is the story of Sallie's maturation -I have sometimes talked of Dear Enemy as a novel where a Mary Crawford-like character undergoes a transformation arc. The happenings and stories she meets and tells Judy about along the way serve this arc, besides standing on their own as case studies to illustrate the problems, ideology and solutions proposed to the secondary themes of the story (education and social reform). I feel like TGLPPS is much more interested in Guernsey's survival through the war, in which case Juliet's story is already a frame, which, again, makes the epistolary format cumbersome rather than complementary.

Dear Enemy adds more correspondents, but it is very austere/economical with them, and narrows the letters we see to only those Sallie sends. YMMV regarding if it was too much cutting or not, but the undeniable effect is structural soundness; you are never confused by what is happening or who is writing to whom. We can guess the Honorable Cyrus Wykoff probably wrote some indignant letters to Jervis, and those would be funny to read, but... would they be worth the break in the flow of the narrative? I don't think so. To this effect, just having Sallie write a line to the effect of "I expect at this point you have at hand an irate letter from the Hon. Cyrus" is enough to paint a picture for the reader. Perhaps a letter or two from Dr. MacRae would have helped develop his character more -definitely a first read of the story obscures how much misdirection there is in Sallie's narration to Judy, which in turns tends to create an impression of suddenness to the closing letter that doesn't come across well to the reader.

The choice of Sallie mainly writing to Judy is, IMO, a really good one too. It not only establishes a connection with DLL, but it also allows for the intimacy that makes disclosure believable (something TGLPPS struggles with, as I mentioned above). When you add a few letters to the doctor and Gordon and Jervis, you also get a better perspective of Sallie's personality, how she deals not only with a friend, but with acquaintances, romantic partners and coworkers.

From all this it is pretty evident that for Webster the main function of epistolarity as format is aiding in showing psychological and moral development. But that's not the only thing the format can be really good for: perspective is another, and Austen uses it to great effect in both Lady Susan and Lesley Castle.

Both stories deal with mainly static characters, but who have very strong perspectives of the same situation, and it is this singularity of setting and story that anchors the narrative to avoid confusion, while the variety of perspective brings interest. In Lady Susan, we are dealing mainly with the marrying off of Frederica and seduction of Mrs. Vernon's brother, Reginald. There where Lady Susan paints Frederica as an undisciplined, irrational and ungrateful daughter, her sister in law, Mrs. Vernon, paints her as a sweet girl and a victim of her mother's ruthlessness and lack of love. Both agree that Reginald is being seduced, but, of course, with opposite goals: Lady Susan wants him to succumb, Mrs. Vernon, to escape, and this is a delicious struggle for the reader to follow!*

Lesley Castle being an earlier effort, and unfinished, does show some of the defects I have mentioned before (mainly, the relative confusion of having several correspondents in separate storylines), but illustrates well this same perspective effect: Margaret writes to Charlotte about the new Lady Lesley, and the new Lady Lesley writes to Charlotte about about Margaret and her sister... and in these contrasts lies the main interest of the narrative.

Some conclusions to these musings, then:

Not every story is suited to the epistolary format.

The epistolary format seems to work the best when it is used for either A) showcase psychological and moral development B) to play with perspective on people and/or events.

One of the main difficulties of the format is finding a narrative element to anchor and structure the letters around.

It must have a core couple of correspondents, or at most, two. More than that will make it confusing (unless, perhaps, the story is very short and about a single event or two).

A delicate balance must be found so that the secondary correspondence doesn't cut the flow of the main one, and if possible it must feed into it.

*It is interesting how Love and Friendship, being such a delightful -and I sustain one of the best ever- Austen adaptation, is by force of the perspective switch towards a more impersonal third person, more about a love story between Frederica and Reginald than a struggle between Lady Susan and Mrs. Vernon. Which isn't dissimilar to how adaptations of DLL end up being more about the romance between the leads than Judy's coming of age in college; tropes aside, I feel like if the epistolary format is well embedded in the story, it's going to be nearly impossible to reproduce the effect in adaptation.

[sleepinglionhearts]

*goes thru my sketchbook to deliver u some One Piece nonsense from last month*

[clueless1995]

self care has been so twisted into serving capitalism and the patriarchy it makes me sick actually

[beaningeneraldenial]

Clown is angry.

He has every right to be; for about a week now, he's been trying to track down the guy who shot him in the head with little to no success. A few rumors here, a few rumors there. People around have been calling him 'Hot Guy', because apparently that's his only catchphrase.

Oh, yeah. The man is trying to play hero. In Lifesteal, there are no heroes. You're either a villain or a peasant trying to stay alive a day longer and now that stranger is trying to cause issues for everyone.

'Everyone' being the people in the heart trading business. That includes Clown as well but he only wants revenge -though a free target for hearts would be nice too.

"There is this avian who has been spotted with him", Branzy comments off-handedly from the bed, where he is tinkering with some cogs and wires and some other bits that Clown couldn't hope to name. "He's called 'Cute Guy', god knows why. They're a hero duo now"

Clown lets his forehead bang against the desk, right next to Branzy's elaborate redstone blueprints and his own neat row of knives.

Some shuffling comes from the bed, followed by footsteps and the badly hidden chuckles of his partner in crime. Leave it to Branzy to console someone through their sulking.

"There, there, Clown" -he pats his back- "You're the deadliest assassin in all of Lifesteal. Even if they're stab-proof, they aren't trap-proof"

---------

The following week is a whole lot of diggin'. Well, it's more like Clown watching Branzy run around the old funhouse design in the bottom of his casino, connecting and disconnecting wires and repairing the damages Vitalasy and Cube caused the last time they were down there. This lucrative endeavor of an establishment has been closed for that period of time, so that the new 'content' won't be leaked.

All he does is wriggle his fingers together as he sees the plan slowly but surely take shap and sharpen his scythe until the blade can slice the thinnest, most see-through slice of a tomato.

"How- It's that sharp?", Branzy is bewildered at the sight of the perfectly skinned tomato on the bar counter. Clown grins. "You know what, I won't even ask how you managed to do that"

"It was a lot of hard work, sweat and tears of the innocent"

"Tears of the innocent"

"I had to test the sharpness somehow"

Branzy stares for a second, then shakes his head, gives him a pointed look, silently communicating 'The less I know, the less I can confess in court' and walks back to the pit.

----------

Hot Guy and Cute Guy are a lot easier to lure than anticipated. Upon opening night, Clown spots the two bantering with some guests near the blackjack tables from the overhead, 'Staff Only' balcony. He gently nudges Branzy's side and watches as the man walks down the stairs to go collect them.

As he does that, Clown grabs his scythe and descends to the bottom of the funhouse pit.

The swirling red, purple and black colours are familiar and comforting. He stands right in the middle of the floor, listening intently on the laughter and joyful screaming coming from the funhouse rooms that are meters above.

Soon, the first target is falling through the ceiling. It's Hot Guy, the wingless of the duo and the sickening crunch that follows his fall is music to Clown's ears. He doesn't pounce yet, wanting to kill two birds with one stone.

Cute Guy is close to the other's timing. Though winged, the avian can't do much more than flap his parrot wings fruitlessly and collide with the wall and then slide to the ground in cartoon fashion.

"Welcome to the Funhouse!", Clown calls out, dashing to Hot Guy and swinging his scythe. The man yells and shouts apologies at him to stop but the blade has already been set into motion.

The other hero has managed to stand on shaky legs by the time he's done with the now-corpse that is already sizzling away, one heart down and Clown one heart up. Back to twenty.

"Hey, we can talk about this, fella!"

Clown doesn't think that they can talk about this. Silent as always, he stalks towards his pray. Branzy whistles above, probably looking at the bloody mess that is the pit he worked so hard on.

And Cute Guy pulls a gun out of nowhere. A pink gun with a heart on either side to match his equally pink outfit. The warning shot misses Clown's ear by a hair. It's a power play, he undesrtands that but now that he has an audience to appease, he has to play into the theatrics as well.

"Next time, I won't miss!", his voice dances. There is a light tremble to it; barely there but Clown's senses are enhanced and he picks up on it without issue.

Then he slices clean through the muzzle of the gun with his scythe. The hero is absolutely shell-shocked, shrieking and Clown laughs as he mocks him.

"Next time, I won't miss!", he follows through with his words. The guy's heart doesn't add to his count but it instead floats right above the hero's corpse. It's a deep purple with a swirling darkness inside it; Clown has never seen anything like it.

At the end of it, all that's left is the blood, the adrenaline and the slow, impressed clapping coming from Branzy.

Revenge had been served.

[dirtytransmasc]

self indulgent got concept.

Ned brings Jon home, Cat hates the boy, everything stays the same... until Robert Baratheon is charging through the halls of Winterfell looking for the babe, ready to butcher the poor thing where he lay helpless in his cradle.

in a matter of moments Catelyn learns three things:

The babe was never a bastard, Ned had only lied to her to protect Jon, and that she would die before she let Robert lay a finger on the babe she'd previously wished death upon.

cue Catelyn Stark snatching Jon from his cradle, holding him, protecting him, loving him as she would her own son, risking it all to keep him safe, all care for herself thrown to the wind.

like they say, what a mother's love holds no bounds, and what it makes her capable of had no limits.

[dexaroth]

wip! i cant help ittt i need every design ever to have white tips in the limb ends. its so much better XB

heres some random accents that idk if ill implement. theyll probably be optional bc i dont want xor to always have an accent color

heres the original.. the non-rodent-all-black-eye also looks so much better but doesnt help much since the white face mask blends with it. but ehhh its so cute i think im keeping it ^v^

[disabled-dragoon]

Would it be too on the nose to have this tattooed somewhere on my body

[ID: A yellow sign with black writing reading "Out of Order" on a white background. /end ID]

[gynandromorph]

I made Jessie have short fur, no real fluff anywhere, a short tail that isn't bunny length or nice and long, small horn-like ears, small eyes with little detail, and those awful Zootopia style plantigrade digitigrade legs, all of these decisions to make her less "likeable" at first sight. These were all conscious decisions I made (you can actually see me removing chest fluff in the video of me designing her iirc) to move away from a "default" furry in my head. Just kind of inverted all these decisions in that generic furry Jessie. Also I made her skinny because obviously they'd make her skinny--

[lovehoarder]

"You don't just see people you see the best in them"?!?!?!?!?!?!

Im so so so emotional about this.

[goodobservationshirley]

I hadn’t read His Dark Materials in years (well over a decade), but I watched the show with my mom who hadn’t read the books, and I think the only change that I noticed that kind of bugged me (again assuming I’m remembering right) is Roger’s attitude in the land of the dead upon first seeing Lyra. That said, I completely understand why they made that change since I had to look up his actor to make sure it was the same kid, and clearly they needed a reason why he’s now like the same size as Lyra, but I do miss his unwavering faith in her that was in the books. I’m now planning on re-reading the books and am very curious if I am remembering the mulefa description correctly because the show is not how I pictured their legs at all.

the whole land of the dead thing is very different in the book

part of it i would say is just that it's a different form of storytelling and they had to rethink it to make it work in the time frame they had

but also the land of the dead, in the book, is kinda a huge moment for lyra's journey. she suddenly can't rely on what she does best (lie) and finds herself completely out of her depth. the problem is that we can spend a lot of time on this in the book because lyra lying almost by default and in a sort of childish easy way has been well established by that point, it's basically her defining characteristic

in the show? not so much. it is mentioned a few times that she's a liar, yes, but show!lyra is a bit older, hence less childish from the get go, and she's not so much of a fanciful liar as her book counterpart is. all these changes make sense for the show, but lyra-not-lying is only a meaningful part of the story if lyra-lying was an important part of it. it is in the book, but it isn't in the show

all that to say, yes the land of the dead scene is very different and i understand how it's the point where your memory would have been like 'wait a minute'. because of other changes they made, they kinda had to rework this moment to give it a bit of a different emotional weight. the change in roger's attitude to lyra is part of it

[inbabylontheywept]

i did wrestling in middle school. on one hand, i was actually quite good at it, which was nice. being good at any sport was a new achievement for me. on the other hand, i was bi, and i was trying very hard not to notice that i was bi, and getting folded into knots by very kind, very muscular dorks made that task somewhat difficult.

adding fire to the problem was that my parents and my grandparents wanted to watch my matches, because they were very proud that their Gangly Nerd Son was actually Sporting, and they wanted to cheer me on. which would've been sweet and all, but if there are four people you do not want there during a key part of your Burgeoning Sexual Awakening, it is your mom and your dad and your grandma and your grandpa.

right? i mean, imagine some guy's got your head in his armpit, and you're going you know, old sweat smells bad, but fresh sweat has a sort of and then you make eye contact with your grandpa in the stands and you remember you're swearing spandex so if you pop a boner people aren't just going to be able to see the outline, they're going to be able to count the veins, and the only way you will be able to restore your family's honor after that would be by moving to siberia and renouncing joy, forever. that, or lift your entire body up by your kneck then twist 180 degrees without paralyzing yourself.

it’s a lot of pressure, is what i’m saying.

still it did motivate me to win my matches really fast. because i was so tall and skinny, i was stupidly good at the double leg takedown, and then once someone was knocked down, i'd just do the half nelson and kind of flip em over for the pin. then the ref would count to three and i’d win. EZPZ.

i had one match where that went great. won in the first ten seconds, sat back down, and prepared myself for a good hour or two of doing fuck all. didn't even feel bad the parents/grandparents were gonna be bored. the matches went up from me in 5 pound increments (i was in the 115 lbs division) and it was going great until we got to the 145 lbs division. the other school's wrestler stepped onto the mat, and she turned out to be a girl so our guy flipped, because for straight guys, wrestling a girl is not a pleasant experience.

i'm not entirely unsympathetic. my experience wrestling dudes was definitely a little traumatic. but also, i dealt. guy could've dealt too. instead, he refused to wrestle, and the coach went - fine. not even worth fighting over.

so he went to the 140 pounder, and that guy said, nosir, my mom said mormons can't wrestle girls. next guy down, 135 pounder, now he knew he could pull the same card and thus did. 130 pounder, 125, both tapped out. he got to the 120 guy, and that guy was catholic, but he said he was considering being mormon, and thus would have to pass. as a precaution.

coach blew up a little at that. he said "is there anyone - anyone - on this entire goddamn team that is willing to wrestle a girl?" and then he pointed at me and said "YOU. MAT. GO."

and i'll be real, if i'd been paying more attention, i'd have pulled the mormon card too, but i'd just been putting all that audio into a buffer file because i was reading, so i was halfway across the mat before i even processed what had been said and by then it was too late to turn back.

still i had a plan. and my plan - my beautiful, perfect plan - was to do what i'd always done. tackle, flip, pin, win. sit down. read. bore my family to death. move on.

i got the first part right. she was bigger than me, but she wasn't taller. just an incredibly stout woman. god built me like a snake with glasses, just as he built her like a combat cube. the problem was the half nelson. soon as she was down, i tried hooking my arm under hers from behind and for both genders, the defense for this move is just clamping your arms really fucking tight against your sides. if you're a guy, that's whatever, but if you're a girl - especially if you're god's chosen combat cube - that pins your opponents hand right against your boob.

so, i got the hook in, she clamped, my whole arm pressed against something soft, my coach was yelling THE HALF NELSON. BABYLON! JUST FINISH IT! FINISH THE HALF NELSON! and i was just trying to press hard enough to finish, when then my brain went

...oh.

and i flipped out. of course i flipped out. i like girls, and touching a boob is an elemental experience, and i was not ready. i was not prepared. i had not committed the sacred rites. i recoiled like i'd just brushed my arm against the surface of the sun, stood up, and backed away. nobody in the room knew why i'd given up. all they saw was me, right about to win, suddenly flailing around and scrambling. so everyone started screaming at me to just get the half nelson again, and i couldn't really yell back there's a fuckin' boob in the way and it was very distressing, and the only way i could think of to make them stop was just doing it over again the right way.

so i did.

i hunkered down and prepared myself for Wrasslin' Attempt #2: The Sequel.

i knocked her down again, EZPZ. i went for the half nelson again, but she knew what i was about to do so she super clamped, and i knew she was gonna super clamp, so i wound my arm back like a pop-eye cartoon punch before swinging my arm through the gap between her bicep and her side, but the amount of time i spent winding back super signalled what i was about to to do, which gave her time to clamp even harder, which somehow redirected the entire force of the popeye punch to the bottom of her bra.

it spat out a single boob the same way an action hero might spit out one single tooth after getting a solid crack across the jaw. as if to say:

*ptooie.* "that all you got?"

i did not actually see this. my experience was that first there was an arm, then there was a bit of boob, but i was braced, i was ready, forward at all costs, tatakae motherfuckers, and then the boob went away, and i didn't know where it went but my team, and the audience, and everyone who was in front of me, they all gasped like i just kicked them in the stomach. except for my coach. he was behind me, and thus one of the four people in the room who did not see the boob. now my mom, my dad, my grandma, and my grandpa, they all got flashed but nooooooo, coach thunderbutt was behind me, and he didn't see shit so he was still yelling NOOOOOO BABYLON WHAT ARE YOU DOING JUST FINISH THE NELSON! GO FOR THE KILL! BABYLON! BABYLON!

but i did not go for the kill. i stood up and she stuffed her boob back real fast, and we just kind of circled each other awkwardly until time ran out and i won on points. that's not technically allowed, but the ref had some mercy on me.

my coach did not.

i barely had time to sit down before he strode over to the bench to chew me out.

"babylon," he said, in that very calm way people get when they're too pissed to yell. "why didn't you pin?"

and i didn't know how to say well coach, i tried, but there was a boob, and it kept getting in the way, and my mom was watching, and so was my dad, and so was his dad, and his mom, and god (like bible god) and that's a can of worms because i'm pretty sure he was already mad at me, and i'm wearing spandex, and i think i might have to move to siberia, so instead i said

"i uh. i forgot how to do the half nelson."

which is actually impossible. forgetting how to do the half nelson is like forgetting how to swallow your spit.

and he looked at me, like i was the dumbest person in the entire world, and i looked through him like i'd just survived my 250th day in a trench at verdun, and he said: fine.

fine.

but we're all going to practice it for an hour tomorrow because you forgot.

and then he left.

and my buddies had the gall to be salty about it. i got so many comments saying "dude, why didn't you just tell him the truth?" and i said "you can if you care so damn much. you could've wrestled the girl too. maybe someone else should do the hard thing today."

but they didn't. so the next day, we did an hour of half nelson drills, and i spent a decent amount of time getting thrown around the mat, and it was pleasant in exactly the way that i hated and the year after that, to the surprise of everyone but myself, i quit wrestling and joined the trivia team.

and if you want more reasons to love my mom, my grandpa joked after the match that i might have to talk to my bishop about it, and my mom told him he would be allowed to make jokes after he stood in front of a crowd of 110 people in spandex underpants while wrestling a woman that was not his wife.

he paused for almost five seconds after that. then he said: aw. hell. sorry babylon.

and i'd have preferred my apology from god, but getting it from him was pretty good too.

[h0neybun-was-here]

my mother:

Six year old me:

Six year old me: it doesn’t hurt that bad… we should just go to Olive Garden

my mother: we are going to the hospital and that’s final-

the hospital: they would have died had you brought them in even an hour later

six year old me: Olive Garden….😞

[tofugains]

legs

pain pain pain all I know is pain

Ok fr though I did hit some PRs this leg day and my legs are still twitching/shaking. I felt like a newborn giraffe walking across the parking lot after. I am suffering (I will do it again next week and be equally dramatic).

~☆ song of the day! ☆~

[laalaaisqueen]

This Po is a mess but way better than the sketch

Me: *spends several minutes roasting my drawing before anyone else does*