Ghostbusters.

awkward camera angles ftw.

whoever allotted these house companions really needs to let me do a redo or something. i want a cute little ghost puppy or cat or something, not some asshole who loiters around only to bash manically at my piano at the ungodly hours of early morning slash hella late.

forever peeved at the otherworldly entity that gets their grubby ectoplasmic hands all over my baby grand, because like, that was a gift yall, and also because blargh, ghost hands. as if it was not enough that they already get their freaky deakyness all over my glasses.

speaking of things that do not really make sense and concern a certain dave strider, why the hell does he have a texan accent? i mean, i am pretty sure he was born and raised up here, same as most people in town. there is no real reason for him to have had one. unless his older brother just affected one for ironic purposes, or whatever the hell the definition of strider irony is even supposed to be, and that is just how dave grew up. holy shit. why.

sometimes i remember the only reason that dave really actively agrees to come along on expeditions with me is because back in third grade, he stepped on my hamster, and i cried for like, three weeks. it was tragic as fuck.