Hanging out with people will make you remember you're the crazy woke friend for like. not wanting to shop at shien

Cosmic horror story about the protagonist being driven mad by having forbidden knowledge seared into their mind in which it gradually becomes clear that the protagonist is a housecat and the terrible gnosis that renders even their most familiar intimacies alien to them is the ability to do first grade math.

They have difficulty functioning in their daily life because they're constantly seeing maddening patterns beyond mundane perception, but those patterns are merely the product of being able to count higher than three. All forgetting to eat as they obsessively count the pieces of dry kibble in their bowl.

yall good? you're reblogging dick grayson's identity crisis (as featured in Nightwing 2011 #30) again

i love clicking on somebody’s ao3 profile and seeing the most nonsensical collection of fandoms. like yess let's live a thousand lifetimes

how fucking strong is Zuko like why do you even bother with your bending when you could just wham bam snap Aang’s spine with a kick

atla heritage post

I'm not sure what mood this is but it sure is one

it’s a spoiler alert

the best fanfiction you've ever read was written by a woman in her 40s before she made dinner for her kids. it was written by a teenager after school when they should've been studying for a history test. and a barista came up with the idea while they cleaned the espresso machine and busser fact-checked it on their break and the post-doc edited between writing grant proposals and the nurse apologized for typos in the notes after a long shift and behind every drabble and one-shot and multi-chapter fic there is a person with a wonderful and interesting and chaotic life and it is such a privilege that we get to be apart of it because they decided to do this thing we all share, for fun.

I just started Palia this week and I'm only 3 temples in and the protagonist is already making me so sad (/pos). It's been what, 10k years? That means that, depending on how you play and who you play with I suppose, they have nothing. Their family? Dust and ash with likely no tombstone. Childhood home? Belongings? Eaten away by time. No reminders. No history. They might as well have just been born, because there's no proof of their previous life. Imagine not being able to mourn your world because you somehow exist so long after it ended. Imagine never being able to say goodbye to anything you loved. Your family, your friends, even the people you would walk by on the street every day. Do they even know what happened to you? Do they know you still persist? Did they, by some miracle, make it out onto the other side somewhere else in the world? Should you even get your hopes up and risk suffering a second death of the soul? You have nothing and are from nowhere. You're an anomaly. You're an extinct species in a world that has long since moved on from your kind. You are human, and you are so very alone.