#mumblers lobby

[bubblyernie]

DnD party poster!! all of us are like extremely colour coded and I'm obsessed lol

Featuring characters of @stasisquo @zannianator @mumblers-lobby and dm'd by the wonderful @gonerogueartuk

art tag // commission info

[ssssssggggggffffff]

Excuse me, have you happen to know about some silly show about a demon and an angel? I think it's called Good... Omens or something or the sort- Are you familiar with it?

yeah, I’ve heard it’s really good but haven’t gotten to check it out yet. thanks for the recommendation 💗

[mellohirust]

HI I LOVE YOUR ART GRHJKKK it's scrumptious

OHHH THANK YOU SO MUCH!! very kind of you :'D

[lostintransist]

Liaison - Chapter 2 - Da’ Fuck is a Roadman

The worst part about your job had to be the commute. The trip to the office each day took nearly an hour. Between the two trains, one bus, and a half-mile walk any energy you might have had been used up. You did not mention to anyone on the team where you lived and that you refused to buy a car. Mostly you were sure that your years of driving on the right side of the road and turning on red lights would lead to you killing someone in a vehicular collision and would rather avoid that.

The old building you shared with three other tenets creaked every time the wind blew and your small studio in the basement required two dehumidifiers to keep mold from overtaking the space. The jaw-cracking yawn overtook you as you stepped off the bus. You make it as far as the front door before the exhaustion becomes too much. You manage to brush your teeth, rip off your bra, and toss on an overlarge shirt you stole from an ex before sleep steals you away.

The weekend slips by too quickly for your liking. You can see the emails piling up in the inbox of your work email, anything truly urgent would CC Kate who worked nonstop. You stop into a cafe on your way home from the weekend market, happy to start to recognize the barista behind the counter. Sunday afternoons you did your shopping for the week and rewarded yourself with a scone and a warm latte. The day is capped off with a video call with a friend in Maryland and by eight you are asleep.

You wake early, 4 AM the alarm goes off to make it to the office for your 6:15 call. You dress simply in jeans, rain boots, and a long-sleeved green shirt. Starting on the walk for the bus you clock the young man posted up at the edge of an alley. You keep an eye on him but don’t change course as you continue closer to where he stands.

When you get within ten feet of him he jumps out and mumbles some words at you.

Tilting your head at him you try and process the sounds you heard.

“Wanna run that by me again kid?”

He mumbles the same words, louder and makes a vaguely threatening gesture.

“Yeah, I got nothing. Good luck with whatever you need,” you step into the road to continue past him.

Mumbler jumps in front of you, shouting now.

“I’m trying to rob ya you stupid American!”

“Why didn’t you say that back there?” Hooking a thumb over your shoulder to point to where this interaction started. “Also you don’t have a gun, do you even have a knife?”

As he starts to sputter the youth in his face is evident.

“Okay, so how does this shtick work?” gesturing to all of him, you continued. “Do you just walk up to people and demand their wallets or what?”

“Yeah, give me all your money!”

Mentioning wallets seemed to re-energize him.

“No thank you,” you start walking again. If you don’t make up the lost time you will delay yourself at least fifteen minutes and might need to call a cab to make it to work for your phone call.

❈❈❈

The hardest part of your job, second only to dealing with people who didn’t understand your role, would be the lack of consistency of who might be in the office from day to day. Harold hadn’t been at his desk when you finally rolled in, already accepting the call you had scheduled for this morning in the lobby. You waved to the one person at a computer as you dumped your things and asked for a moment of patience from everyone on the call as your headphones connected.

The call dragged on for nearly an hour as you stayed on mute replying to emails. When a question could not be answered by anyone else you jumped into the conversation, explaining you had three options for a team that would fit their needs. At this point, you would need a timeline and payment. Confirming the email address took another five minutes, back and forth. When the call wrapped up the clock ticked closer to 9 AM.

Letting your head slam against the desk you took a series of deep breaths. A message tone dinged from your computer. Looking up you found a message from someone named Roach.

>Calls that bad?

Turning you catch sight of the person who had been in the office when you arrived.

“You Roach?”

>That’s me.

Masked and covered from head to toe, the man looked as innocent as a bloodied tiger. You saw a lot of men like that lately. Something about this job had them covering up more than a nun in a convent.

“Okay, I’m still meeting everyone. And no? The call wasn’t that bad but I ended up being late because some fucker I think tried to rob me?” After explaining the whole situation this morning to Roach he sends you a message through the chatting platform.

>You met a roadman.

“Da’ fuck is a roadman?” Incredulity had become a familiar state since moving to England.

Staring at Roach you wait for his typed response. He looks at you, makes a face beneath his mask, bobs his head from shoulder to shoulder, sighs, and puts his fingers on the keys.

>A roadman is what you might call a mugger in the US.

“No, a mugger has a gun or a knife and can back up his threats. That child told me to give him all my money and couldn’t even find a decent threat to make me comply. All the bastard did was make me late.”

Roach’s only reply to this is a hearty shrug.

A voice from behind has both you and Roach spinning in place.

“Liaison I need a contract confirmed,” someone barked at you.

The demand hits wrong after the roadman incident and the achingly long call. You turn to see a large man, again in a mask, staring at you from near the door. This mask looked hard, the upper face half of a skull. This must be Ghost; Kate had warned you about him.

“I must have missed the question in that statement, care to try again?”

Roach’s brows nearly touch his hairline as he quickly averts his gaze.

The tall, broad Lieutenant moved faster than his shape would indicate he could. He looms over you, hard skull and eye black leaving no color beyond the whites of his eyes.

“Did I stutter Liaison?”

“No, but you might need to if you try to tell me what to do without asking again.” You flick a nail against his mask. “Now if you’ll excuse me I don’t want to be here anymore.”

Slipping from beneath Ghost’s shoulders you make it two steps before his hand wraps around your bicep. Snapping back to look at him you contemplate the wisdom of punching him.

“Ghost! Let her go,” Price’s command splits the air.

He lets you go with exaggerated care. You flip him the bird, hiding the move from Price using your body. You stalk up to Price who is staring Ghost down over your shoulder.

“Did he hurt you?” Price asks as you draw near. He wasn’t Ghost’s captain but had recently been promoted to work directly below the elusive Sheppard. You tried to keep up on who worked under who but with so many moving parts you had to check your spreadsheets every time you had a question.

“No, I’m fine. But next time the meathead needs something from me tell him to send an email and to use all his manners.” You sweep past Price and head for the kitchen. Might as well start some bread so you can beat something up.

That second interaction with Ghost solidified the tone of your relationship. The same day he threatened you with his size and laid hands on you he found you in the kitchen. You pulled the tray of rolls out of the oven when he spoke.

“I’ll take one of those.”

Without pausing to consider you shut the oven softly and tip the hot pan over, spilling the steaming buns onto the floor. You don’t even try to make it look like an accident.

“Whoops. Guess you forgot to ask for something you wanted.”

You ignored the fuming soldier behind you as you set the hot pan on the stove to cool and cover the dough and place it in the fridge for later. You gave it an hour before checking back to find the kitchen clear and cleaned up the rolls from the floor.

Three weeks later you are pulled from an important email by a fist in your hair. Ghost growls in your face.

“What the hell did you agree to with Sarcosis?”

A wince you can’t stop slips. “Hair pulling is a kinky thing for me Ghost, you ready to follow up on this offer?”

Disgusted, he lets you go. Then Soap is there, pushing between you two. Rubbing the back of your head you decide to answer. He did ask a question after all.

“Sarcosis needs to borrow one man, someone who can play spotter for one of their snipers. Job is less than three days. I wrangled a favor to borrowing one of their men if we ever need ‘em.”

“Why take the job?” Soap peers over his shoulder, hand still firmly placed on Ghost.

“All Keith is asking for is an impartial set of eyes to confirm a kill. They aren’t on the no-fly list. Do they need to be?”

“No-fly list?” This question comes from Ghost.

“Yeah, the no-fly list.” You pop open a sticky note from your screen, enlarging both the note and the words you let the men read the list you got from Kate. “Taking jobs with these guys won’t fly, hence the no-fly list.”

Ghost takes a deep breath, tucking the demon’s demeanor back behind his vest. Soap lets his hand drop back to his sides.

“Now if all this excitement is over I am going back to my emails,” turning your back to the men you return your screen to normal and type away at your ongoing email.

Roach sends you a message that you see but don’t reply to.

>Sarcosis nearly got Ghost killed on their last job, might want to flag them for your no-fly list.

Ghost and Soap stand behind you for an uncomfortably long time. When they eventually move you pull your headphones on and settle into the chaos of never-ending emails.

❈❈❈

It took you six months to figure out the rules for jobs. You had asked Kate, repeatedly. Each time she gave an answer about whether to accept or reject, you would question her. Why accept this job and not this one? Over and over you asked and the answer always amounted to a feeling. Vibes. You took notes on every call and Kate’s decision since she couldn’t articulate why to accept one job over another. She had worked with the 141 for so long that she had a sense for these things.

Those six months were grueling, but you found a pattern. The price of a job could be relied upon to weed out anything the team wouldn’t take. The numbers broke down to roughly £20,000 per man per job. The more complicated the explanation the more guys you figured would be needed. That rule of thumb would be right more often than not.

The guys would take rescue missions but were better equipped to handle situations where there would be no witnesses. They worked well with teams from most companies and governments but there were a few that several men refused to work with again. It was a small list but the fact you recognized each name on sight often gave you a queasy sensation in your stomach.

Enough of the team would submit requests to take one job or another you had to start a running list of preferences and skills. Pinning down hard skills turned into a bit of an issue so you had a self-reported list and a list of skills reported by others. The sheer number of interconnected spreadsheets and the random formulas learned to create boggled your mind. Once one of the members of the accounting team, Doreen, saw your massive spreadsheet she collected the general information known about the office to add to your knowledge pool. She also helped you break out the information about each member into a separate file that fed into your master sheet. Doreen, for as old as she was, had a vast understanding of spreadsheets. The search function would become a new god in your role.

Chapter 1 |

Masterlist

@nicroyal02 Chapter 26 is up on A03

[awitadebarro]

dibujo ñoño en paint ksajsjs

@mumblers-lobby Puedo explicarlo....

Me da mucha risa que el ship me guste tanto aún sabiendo que tuvieron 3 interacciones o menos JJAAJA

Tru tiene el pelo corto porque estaba probando cómo se le vería =3=

✨

[mumblers-lobby]

just wanted to let you know that I changed my used name, now it's mumblers-lobby, used to me murders-laura

for the old ones! <3

[chaoticsweettooth]

"My gender is not a gender but I am a person" Let me be the eldritch horror that i deserve to be 👹

No pressure : @beearrt @bug-hearted @mumblers-lobby

Type "my gender is" on your phone and let your phone finish the sentence, then tag your moots to keep the chain going, I'll go first.

My gender is a little bit more intense than I thought I could have done

@mirukosbitchywife @get-junpeid

[meanwhileinstasiville]

I see all the yellow and I get followed around by the cars and...

You guys are stacked up against *every single old world stereotype from everywhere on earth* about that standard Latino build; laziness, pestilence, Animal Farm of the pigs as fascists, corruption, graft, sickness of the heart and of the mind.

Dear Arin, your brother acts and socializes and even attempted to court women, like a latino. And who absent that, seemed keen on tabling doumas like a Russian, a probable heritage from the perogi preparing great grandma of gangnes drive. And not white so much. Whataboutism, though definitely. Walking by "otterlifter" summons a yellow clad person, cooper, or otherwise? Mazatlan? Any of a number of college-meets-siskyou buildings?

Actives "that must not go unanswered" like *walking down the street* *across a bridge* *up a hill*? Really?

Whatever it is, it's not whiteness. American even at times. Slavic quality more and more, I swear.

(Am glad it's not dying, or that I can find shoes *because someone intends to mock me* rather than going barefoot, or that I eat daily because someone wants to ascribe or draw conclusions from it) Really.

...But what does it do? My parameters don't change anyone else's for being harassed all the time.

*seems to be getting a lot of exercise, the stationed person from the library lobby who spends time hogging the community phone there* (Since I started sitting in the corner)

*seems the mumbler girl who holed up; outside what was the paddington throwaway store, what the vicinity of love revolution has for seating, at the top of the library stair in the magazines, is taking to walking all the way to clay street to meet me there*

*Exponentially increasingly bizarre conversation downstairs as of the last three days or so*

*used to see this stuff at the mountain avenue crossing below the highschool where the walking path met the road* (any of the random encounters waiting for me to have them)

*used to see the car thing piled up as curated traffic at the walking path meets garfield location* (stacks of cars from encounters at intersections around town and the outskirts)

*and first spot next to the coop where had sat red hondas and blue fords before that, yet another cooper because some economist mags were left on a low library shelf* In the large print section (I'm going to hazard a guess that you became an economist because Eric read that, ryan. So, economics is about *making people ***do things*** not reading and citing indicators for praises; military strategy is about killing people *it's not about studying maps for notable features* ("we'll inflict so much pain on them (meaning I think, the fed) that they'll have to lay people off" said an old issue of the economist about fixing things. Which is why *you can't ever afford to actually be wrong* as a late friend might observe. Out of every hundred people; who lives dies works gets sick or has unmet needs?

(Following by cars based on make model and even color, is not a solution to any problem that I have. I am not for want of it when it is not there)

Unless of course, it's the nazi thing; which another friend strongly denies. So I lived at *both* an address of a dead friend and later a living one. I squatted a place in highschool formerly occupied by a family or two of illegals who spoke spanish. I am not any of them. I feel like this is more important than ever, to point out

Add to that the yellow clad woman with a leash and then the guy in yellow coat who made several passes *to be seen* next to the library

A motorcycle with sidecar, I don't know guys seems gangs plus fascism

[bubblyernie]

Drawing from session 0 of a campaign!! All these t-boys. Red's an artist so it gives me an excuse to do a bunch of painterly doodles throughout the campaign yippee!

Featuring characters of @zannianator @mumblers-lobby @stasisquo

art tag // commission info

[mellohirust]

A PREFERED BEVERAGE??? omg can I get an iced chocolate shake? I love those. In return, you can have any character on a bunny onesie!

hands this to you

[thatskindarough]

A a a aA—a a. 😯

Anyone who sees this feel free! Pressure free tags: @redraspberrycats @katiefrog217 @mellohirust @lunar-ecl1ps3 @mumblers-lobby @pikatik @ardentlake

Saw this going around twitter, looked like fun. What? I'm not procrastinating (I am, I really am)

Make this picrew of yourself

Take this uquiz

Post the results side-by-side. No pressure tags: @alypink, @revnah1406, @madefordvarka, @deadbranch, @welldonekhushi, @kaitaiga, @applbottmjeens, @froglights-and-pearls

[awitadebarro]

Buenas uwu, me gusta mucho tu estilo de arte *le doy mucho ánimo y bien humor*☄💖

Y hablemos tus oc's, quien estan solteros? tus ricas patas kebeb! Digo.. tus oc's

Mis que..............? (😨😏) Ay le agradezco mucho que le guste lo que hago aunque esté algo flojita ❤

Uy, y con respecto a la pregunta:

Yo sé que a veces parece que solo tengo dos oc´s pero les juro que tengo más JKASJAKS (guiño guiño @mumblers-lobby @lachingaderita-0w0)

Ya los iré actualizando y prometo que les traeré personajes nuevos porque tengo la cabeza llena de ideas, solo falta ejecutarlas

pero................. por el momento tengo a estos oc's solteros:

Eric: soltero

Crosh (Zacarías): pareja planeada

Truñeo (Nadenka): pareja planeada

Henry: soltero

Mark: pareja planeada

Y sé que son solo dos, tengo más pero realmente he tenido otras ideas con esos oc's. Prefiero presentarles a los nuevos cuando estén listos, por el momento les pido paciencia 💕

[princesiddie]

The man approached the front desk of the hotel. He had his luggage, a single small suitcase and a computer bag, sitting beside him. He was traveling. Before this, he booked a flight and a hotel on his laptop from his medium-small home, and packed all of the things he would need for that week into a tiny suitcase he hardly remembered ever even purchasing, and he drove to the airport that was 45 minutes from his house (he arrived early) and shuffled through security (he would've been out faster had there not been such a line) and waited at the gate for 12 minutes and boarded the plane where he sat quietly for two hours between an older woman and a young man who looked much more like a boy than a man (he, amused, thought to himself where his parents must be) and then he departed the plane and gathered his single suitcase and rented a small red car and drove to his hotel, which was this one, and as he was doing now, checked in. “I have a reservation,” he said to the concierge. His voice was soft, just under than what most public speaking teachers said was appropriate (although no one had ever gotten very offended at him for being so soft spoken) and though he hadn't done it then, he knew he was a mumbler and had a slight stammer. “What's the last name?” He told her his last name and gave her his credit card when prompted. He only had two and was considering getting a third at the moment but was ultimately against it because he feared falling into more debt. She typed in his information and nodded when it came up. “You're for one week, is this correct?” “Yes.” She handed him his keys and told him his room number. It was on the sixth and topmost floor. He picked his bags and shuffled over to the elevator, where he gently pressed the up button and waited patiently for the doors to chime and open. The right one arrived first. He was alone. He pressed the button for the sixth floor. When he arrived, the hallway was empty. He walked to his room, his feet softly thudding against the abstractly patterned carpet. He unlocked his door and pushed open the door. The room looked nice. There was a window, and a bed, and a TV, and a sofa, and a bathroom, and a closet with a mirror, and two-- no, three lamps, and a desk, and two side tables. He gently placed his computer bag on the bed. He left his suitcase next to the TV. It looked even smaller there. There was a rolling chair at the desk. He sat in it, but he didn't lean back like he wanted to. He stared out the window, out at the cars rushimg past on the street a block away. He was alone. He was used to being alone. He was single, he didn't talk to his parents anymore, he had very few friends and he never spoke to them outside of work, he didn't talk to strangers more than he had to, and he had no roommates. He had traveled here alone. He had gone to the airport alone. He had gone on the plane alone (he had picked the only single seat on the whole plane), he booked a hotel room for one, and here he now was. Alone. By himself. Thinking. He stood up after a short while, turning his head to look around the room once more. He looked down at the desk. There was a laminated booklet that read “Welcome!” and when he opened it, it was full of travel information. After a moment, he flipped to the page with destinations. There were a few tourist attractions that looked interesting. He made note to try and visit them while he was here. He flipped the page again and found a section about local restaurants. Again, he noted a few that seemed of interest. He wasn't very hungry then. But he would be later. He walked over to the bathroom. He turned on the light and stepped inside. He had a habit of inspecting the bathrooms of places he went, just because. He was never sure why or what he might've been looking to find, but he always chalked it up to nothing more than a harmless irrational compulsion. The bathroom was small. It had a sink, and a mirror, and a toilet, and a shower, and a hair dryer, and soap and lotion and shampoo, and more towels than he needed. He looked over at the mirror. His face stared back at him. He looked at the shower. It looked like it was deep enough to fill with enough water to have a pretty decent bath. He looked over at the hair dryer. He couldn't tell because the cord was wrapped up in spirals and he wasn't holding it himself, but it looked like it might reach. They would not find me. They would not know. They would not care. ...Not now. He turned off the light and stepped out of the bathroom. He was still wearing his jacket, so he picked up the keys to his room and left. He rode the elevator down to the lobby and left, not looking at the same concierge still behind the desk. He went out to his red rental car and got inside. He turned it on, and left. He visited one of the restaurants and ate the food. It was good, just like the booklet at the hotel had promised. He visited one of the tourist sites it was interesting, just like he had thought. When he was out, he was surrounded by people: in their cars on the roads, at their tables in the restaurant, staring at the same exhibit at the attraction. He was not alone. He was surrounded by others. He felt ok about this. When he arrived back at his hotel, it was night. He put his hand on the door knob, turning it gently and pushing the door open. Honey I'm home Honey I'm home Honey I'm home He ordered food from the room service menu, his voice getting softer the way it did when he spoke on the phone (he disliked speaking on the phone) and when it arrived ten minutes later, he ate it slowly. His fork chinked quietly on the ceramic plate. He tried not to let his teeth bite the fork’s tines. When he was finished, he placed his dishes outside like he'd been instructed to, and began to get ready for bed. He changed into his sleeping clothes and brushed his teeth. He watched himself in the mirror as he did. His eyes pierced into themselves, calm and somewhat tired looking. As he unpacked, he realized he had forgotten his razor. There was a sign by the sink that said he could call the front desk for things of the like. He did. When it arrived, he picked it up and thanked the hotel worker. He held it in his hand in the bathroom, his other lightly touching the cool marble countertop. They'll clean it. No one is watching. No one will know. No one will stop you. He shaved. There wasn't much stubble on his face, almost none, really, but it was part of his routine, and he tended to stick to his routines. He brushed his hair with his comb and folded his clothes and placed them back into his suitcase and then climbed into bed. It was a small bed, a full perhaps, or a queen, but he fit into it well. Two would have been snug. But luckily he was alone. No one could stop him from doing anything, no one could tell him no, no one could say anything at anything he did. He could've done anything he wanted. He leaned over and turned off one of the three lamps. He turned over and pulled his blanket up to his chest. He closed his eyes and he fell asleep within a handful of minutes. He had a simple dream, in which he found himself sitting on the edge of a tall building. His legs were hanging over the edge and he was swinging them lazily. He stared down at the sidewalk below, at the people who seemed the size of ants from this height, and the cars bustling past on the adjacent street, at the life around but beneath him. He turned his head to the side, thinking for a moment, before he scooted himself forward. Only the edge of his hips were still on the roof. If he leaned forward a bit too far, he'd fall. He swung his legs a bit harder, heels tapping against the slick glass face of the building. He took a soft breath. He leaned forward the rest of the way. His stomach bottomed out as he fell. The ground, the plain, flat, grey ground, rushed up to meet him, like a mother beckoning him into its arms. He wished to return the embrace. The man opened his eyes. The alarm on his phone was barking harshly at him, echoing through the empty, lonely room.

[imautism]

YO!!! ILL BRING VIDEO GAMES!! AND GUMMY CANDY‼️‼️

@luv-byers @txxty @miwiromantics @powsicle @62percentmaplesyrup @mumblers-lobby @suripycap @phantomplaguedoctor @melancholicpessimist @12rods4mikewheeler @delusionaltogether @miwiloved @bylersbear01 @caldula @httpsbyler @absurd-maniac @tabby-tiger @elherself134 @elhopperentourage @i-promise-i-am-not-on-drugs @bi4bihankking @misterfibbly @sadp3rson @apurplesloth @onlymelonlyy @different00 @andy4yippee

WE’RE DOING ANOTHER MOOT SLEEPOVER TAG IS:

Moot sleepover <3

(the heart as well)

GRAB YOUR MUTUALS AND LETS GO!!

@discarded-like-your-roses @seagull9111

LETS GOOOOO !!!!

[chaoticsweettooth]

@ineffablyat221bboilingisles thank you beloved for the tag!

My hands: call me a weirdo for this one, but my hands always go through shit (i get cuts EVERYWHERE) . At the end of the day, they help me do so much like???? i love you???? what would i ever do without you!!!!

My curiosity: This is both a curse and a blessing because of the number of times i have fallen into trouble for being a little insatiable. People often ask me for help and its always the cherry on top when i can assist for something im disgustingly educated about!

My Humor: Joe mama jokes supremacy yall idk why they ever fell off. 12 year old boy humor simply hits different when ur clouded by sadness

@bug-hearted @thatskindarough @beearrt @yellobb @phoen1xr0seand @mumblers-lobby and anybody else that comes across this!!

AIGHT CHAT WE'RE GONNA GO IN A CIRCLE AND SAY 3 THINGS WE LOVE ABOUT OURSELVES MEOW

I'll go first :3

1) My hair. It's a dark brown most of the time but there are little flecks of red that shine in the sun :3

2) My eyes. Most of the time they're a brown-black color, but in the sun they turn a very nice and pretty amber ^w^

3) My thighs. I know most people hate having large thighs but I honestly love them. I can stim on them, I can use them to warm up my hands, and they make it easier to trap my partners in snuggles >:3

Have a nice day and stay safe out there <3

[chaoticsweettooth]

@ineffablyat221bboilingisles appreciate the tag <3

All time favorite song: I cant possibly answer this without taking my answers back repeatedly. I have my head in the clouds all day everyday and to pick a preferred background music would be a crime in my head.

Childhood pet: Ive always been an animal kid; had an aquarium with loads of fish alongside my two turtles that we had to give away when we had to move countries sigh (missing you guys, water always did calm me down)

Hobby: Origami (sharp creases and perfect structers is an INSTANT happy boost), reading fanfics, making up imaginary scenarios to cool music, admiring art (IM LOOKING AT U MOOTS), learning NOT LIKE WHAT WE DO IN SCHOOL PLEASE (once a nerd always a nerd)

Comfort show: Howls Moving Castle (i hope this counts i know it isnt a show), Avatar the last airbender, Maze Runner, Gravity Falls (its mostly animated but they give me that childish whimsy in life that i crave)

Comfort book: Harry Potter (i dont support JKR and her views but her books shaped me), Percy Jackson, The Maze Runner series

On Tumblr: April 2022 (i logged onto tumblr on one of my birthdays so everytime my tumblr blog gets older, so do i :D)

Fun Fact: i dont like really loud noises (i hate concerts and loud parties with my soul) but i love loud sounds (thunder, fireworks, headphones on full vol. etc.)

honestly afraid of bugging you lol but tags !!: @bug-hearted @thatskindarough @beearrt @mumblers-lobby @yellobb and anyone that wants to join in <3

tag game!

i love these things so I want to make my own

All time favorite song: it changes constantly, but rn I think "The Devil doesn't bargain" by Alec Benjamin

Childhood pet: a black cat, her name was Schnurri

Hobby: writing and unicycling

Comfort show/movie/book: six of crows

On tumblr since: this year... february I think?

Fun fact about yourself: i doodle on all my books and papers for school

Some tags:

@thisusedtobeafanpage @iamthejam @nailpolishdrinker @emo-mohawk-boy @elegantvoidss @flowers-jn-her-hair @inthecornerstone