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being crazy over fictional characters is so funny cuz you'll be fine all day and then you start Thinking and then you can feel yourself transform in real time

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thinking about taz balance again tonight and how when lucretia was trying to find a new life for taako, trying to find a way to make him happy, she gave him a whole world full of people who loved him, and even that wasn't enough to fill the yawning emptiness of his sister's absence.

thinking about how even though he didn't even remember lup, her absence shaped him as a person.

Thinking about how barry was looking for her for twelve years, and yet it was ultimately taako who found her, when he didn't even know to look for her.

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Something is missing, but you don’t know what.

[Image Description:

Digital illustration featuring Taako and Lup from The Adventure Zone. On the right side are Taako and Lup during the Stolen Century, with their red cloaks. The edge of the picture is taken over by a glitch effect, almost erasing Lup, only leaving behind parts of her cloak and hair. There is also a small glitch on Taako’s chest, where the IPRE patch would be. This part of the picture is also somewhat desaturated.

Stolen Century Lup is depicted with her hair in a messy bun, her dark brown hair dyed with light-pink highlights. Stolen Century Taako is depicted with his long hair in a braid, his dark brown hair dyed with lavender-purple.

The left-side of the image is post-Voidfish Taako, who is fidgeting with his hair with a look of sadness on his face. He is clutching onto the Umbrastaff at his hip.

Post-Voidfish Taako is depicted with messy shoulder-length hair, his naturally dark-brown hair is streaked with some lavender-purple and light-pink. He is wearing a deep-purple cloak and hat, which is themed with stars on the inside.

End Description.]

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if you listen to taz balance for the first time in 2025 you too can experience the sheer fucking shock of discovering Taako Taaco has a fucking twin sister?????

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From August 2022.

Wanted to do more with this piece/concept, but haven’t gotten around to it. Still really like it tho so enjoy, all you sad Blupjeaners (me) <3

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I've been relistening to the adventure zone recently so here's a Lup doodle for trans day of visibility :D

[ID: art of Lup from The Adventure Zone, smiling at the viewer and conjuring a flame above her hand. Lup is a slender elf with brown skin, and curly hair that's chin length, dyed red and yellow with brown roots. She wears her IPRE jacket, a black crop top, and a long brown skirt. She has lots of piercings, with two sun earrings. The background is the trans flag. End ID.]

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Are you the one that's been hurting my brother? (redraw!)

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one of the lines in balance that always gets me isn’t even a character line. it’s not some badass or heartbreaking moment between characters or anything.

it’s griffin’s “how could you forget about lup?”

because he says it with this sort of incredulous laugh. and at first it’s like “oh yeah, haha, how could you?” because it’s lup. she’s your other half. your twin sister, your best friend, the other part of your soul. you know yourself through her. of course you wouldn’t forget her!

but you already have. and slowly, the dread sets in, because you have, and now you’re remembering, and there’s a kind of rage that comes with it.

how could you forget about lup?

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pov: they saw you from across the room and think your vibe is disgusting

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he needs enrichment

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🌸 So excited I can finally share with you my finished piece for the @taz-balance-zine !!! 🌸

I know it's been a long time since you've seen The Adventure Zone fanart from me, but this show holds such a special place in my heart, and Hurley and Sloane's finale was the MOMENT I knew this story would change my life! 🌈

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lups the fucking funniest character bc shes a sort of moral core to the starblaster crew, a huge part of the drive they have to save the worlds they come across and defeat the hunger, incredibly compassionate and emotionally intelligent, and also just fucking LOVES blowing shit up. cannot get enough of it. will see an opportunity to commit nonlethal arson and say "is anyone gonna fuck that up" and not wait for an answer. genuine honest to god pyromaniac. sees a machine gun and her immediate reaction is to start shooting it in the air. her favorite gift shes ever gotten is the opportunity to run around an abandoned building blowing things up with fire magic. its not even really treated as a character flaw its just a fun hobby she has

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“here there be gerblins” is like what if you couldn’t save everyone. “petals to the metal” is like what if the love was there and it couldn’t save everyone but the love was still there. “crystal kingdom” is like what if the love was there and it couldn’t save everyone and it actually made things worse but the love was there. “the eleventh hour” is like what if love started all of this but you couldn’t save everyone (you couldn’t save everyone (you couldn’t save everyone (you couldn’t save everyone (you couldn’t save everyone (you could save everyone))))). “stolen century” is like what if you could try again (what if there was love) (what if you could try again).

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a detailed list of things i hate

hot weather

high temperatures

heat

warmer than average conditions

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2027: Wizards of the Coast and the American Psychological Association collaborate on the D&DSM, 6th Edition, widely regarded as the worst thing ever published

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em dash they could never make me hate you

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I think I may never be sad ever again. There is a statue entitled "Farewell to Orpheus" on my college campus. It's been there since 1968, created by a Prof. Frederic Littman that use to work at the university. It sits in the middle of a fountain, and the fountain is often full of litter. I have taken it upon myself to clean the litter out when I see it (the skimmers only come by once a week at max). But because of my style of dress, this means that bystanders see a twenty-something on their hands and knees at the edge of the fountain, sleeves rolled up, trying not to splash dirty water on their slacks while their briefcase and suit coat sit nearby. This is fine, usually. But today was Saturday Market, which means the twenty or so people in the area suddenly became hundreds. So, obviously, somebody stopped to ask what I was doing. "This," I gestured at the statue, "is Eurydice. She was the wife of Orpheus, the greatest storyteller in Greece. And this litter is disrespectful." Then, on a whim, I squinted up at them. "Do you know the story of Orpheus and Eurydice?" "No," they replied, shifting slightly to sit.

"Would you like to?"

"Sure!"

So I told them. I told them the story as I know it- and I've had a bit of practice. Orpheus, child of a wishing star, favorite of the messenger god, who had a hard-working, wonderful wife, Eurydice; his harp that could lull beasts to passivity, coax song from nymphs, and move mountains before him; and the men who, while he dreamed and composed, came to steal Eurydice away. I told of how she ran, and the water splashed up on my clothes. But I didn't care. I told of how the adder in the field bit her heel, and she died. I told of the Underworld- how Orpheus charmed the riverman, pacified Cerberus with a lullaby, and melted the hearts of the wise judges. I laughed as I remarked how lucky he was that it was winter- for Persephone was moved by his song where Hades was not. She convinced Hades to let Orpheus prove he was worthy of taking Eurydice. I tugged my coat back on, and said how Orpheus had to play and sing all the way out of the Underworld, without ever looking back to see if his beloved wife followed. And I told how, when he stopped for breath, he thought he heard her stumble and fall, and turned to help her up- but it was too late. I told the story four times after that, to four different groups, each larger than the last. And I must have cast a glance at the statue, something that said "I'm sorry, I miss you--" because when I finished my second to last retelling, a young boy piped up, perhaps seven or eight, and asked me a question that has made my day, and potentially my life: "Are you Orpheus?" I told the tale of the grieving bard so well, so convincingly, that in the eyes of a child I was telling not a story, but a memory. And while I laughed in the moment, with everyone else, I wept with gratitude and joy when I came home. This is more than I deserve, and I think I may never be sad again.

Here is the aforementioned statue, by the way.