Okay, third times the charm.
This keeps being removed from the tag for .. whatever reason, but !! I have opened a grownups only dialtown server! The link will be in the replies. Please come join us!
A practice ref sheet for an oc of mind, memory. She’s a handful, truly. My hope is that sometime in the future her and her companions will be featured in a video game.
Reblogs > Likes
Ahhh art fight 2022, my first year. I didn’t have this blog then, so I thought I might as well post my favorites from that year here.
(oc belongs to: @/satandromeda on art fight!)
Reblogs > Likes
First and one of the few art fights of the year!
(Both ocs belong to @the-blueish-trashcan )
around when I first started dating my boyfriend i bought myself this novelty blanket that looks like a photorealistic tortilla because I am SUCH A SUCKER for novelty shit. when he saw it in person for the first time his eyes lit up, which should have been a warning sign for the indignities to come.
so he’s a first responder and his day shifts start obnoxiously early as far as I, a pampered corporate asshole, am concerned. almost invariably when he’s at my place there will be an alarm at an hour that is downright unconscionable that will make him wake up and roll out of bed to get ready and will simultaneously make me burrow under the pillows grumbling about how surely nobody actually NEEDS their lives saved this early in the morning, after which I will promptly attempt to go back to sleep
he is a clever man and he knows this is when i am most vulnerable to attack.
every single time we do this dance, he quietly dresses, packs up, goes about getting ready to leave, and then when i have juuuust fallen back asleep, he returns with the tortilla blanket. He finds it no matter where I have hidden it.
He then creeps silently up to my side of the bed and uses his superior speed, strength, and reflexes to wrap me up in it incredibly tightly while i am still dazed and sputtering, so that i cannot move my legs or arms and am reduced to humiliating halfhearted magikarp flops that do not deter him from at least attempting to kiss my forehead.
then he goes to my bedroom door, opens it, then pauses, turns around, looks at me, the soft human filling of the facsimile of an enormous burrito he has just constructed, and says in his best romantic lead voice “I’ll see you soon, beans.”
you cannot understand how devastating it is to my ego that i am beans.
fantasy characters: “Geez”
me: who the fuck spread Christianity there
this two-years-old shitpost just gained a hundred notes who the snickerdoodles dug it up
W H A T
In moments like this I always fall back on the fact that they also aren’t speaking English because they don’t have England or the many languages and conquering peoples that contributed to the creation of the English language and therefore the work musr be a translation into recognizable terms in our world’s terms. Call that Tolkien Brainrot.
Definitely funnier if you make fantasy explanations though,
Champagne is a wizard who sells bubbly alcohol.
It’s called English because of the original Lish people, all languages start with En here.
French fries are not potatoes they’re roots of the french plant.
Goodbye is now short for ‘good be your eye’ wishing you luck seeing the path ahead.
Jesus Christ is a long dead lich who used to cause everyone problems and we haven’t stopped saying her name when things go wrong.
And that’s the Pratchett approach
Ad that takes up half my dash AND y2k on my screen?? For some fucking reason? Literally die where is the off switch oh my god
do you think the creator of myhouse had any idea the impact he would make? Do you think, when putting together the noneuclidean labyrinth of memories, he ever considered that someday those memories wouldn’t just be immortalized in this little corner of the internet, but that they would spread? That people all over the internet, the world, would take pen to paper to artfully recreate his memories in soft, tragic brushstrokes? In poems, and essays, explaining and honoring who he and his love were? Do you think he comes across the art, and sees the love others are putting toward his- frankly- memoir and feels… something? Is it the same sort of somber but hopeful emotions he gave us? is it joy? sorrow, that we’ll never understand the full scope of his story? or is he content, knowing this story is told, and doing his best to pick up the pieces and heal from such a great loss? Unaware that what he’s done is so loved.
Do you think he knows that his words, that “happiness must be fought for” is now cemented as such a visceral, true sentiment that so many people now share? It’s akin to that of the declaration that the universe loves you, because you are love, at least in my eyes.
I hope he knows. I hope he sees. I hope he understands the love and dedication that we’re trying to give back to him.
Happiness must be fought for, and I am not a religious person, but god am I trying.
