#because he had no energy left

[grimmweepers]

life comes at you so fast

[mlady-magnolia]

I made another PJO girlie, Roman Edition!

Her name is Adonna Leighton, she’s a child of Venus, and she has a magical choker that gives her the ability to conjure up a pair of wings for a short amount of time and fly around like Cupid

[tj-crochets]

so in the past I have made themed gifts for people who have helped me* and it's been a little weird but like. Understandable to the person I am gifting the thing to weird? My current problem is that I want to make something for my endocrinologist because he has improved my quality of life hugely** but endocrinology doesn't have an easily themed gift and my endocrinologist reminds me very very strongly of like a sad greyhound or a whippet but I cannot explain to this very nice, very normal man that "hey I made you a plushie of a dog because I wanted to thank you for the steroids and you remind me of a dog. In a good way!" *like teeth plushies for the dentist who helped me figure out I have to have dental anesthetic without epinephrine in it, or a chicken plushie for the people at the chicken restaurant that went the extra mile to get their ingredients list that were the reason I figured out I'm allergic to coconut **I had what would have been a severe allergic reaction and it wasn't pleasant but I didn't end up in the hospital and I didn't take like a week minimum to recover and

[princessdarth-vader]

cant stop thinking abt the ratgrinders' like... parents after this ep. trying not to be disappointed at the kill all enemies approach to this combat. i understand we have a different experience of the campaign to the pcs. but what i hope for is brennan taking a moment to focus on the families and loved ones of these kids who were manipulated and forced and used for porter's means. Who had their free will taken away from them, and their anger used against them.

Like, after all is said and done, we see a gnome couple; maybe they were sort of friends with the Thistlesprings, since Ruben's whole deal before being emo was like, that vibe. Maybe they knew their son had changed, was angrier and more sad, but they gave him the space to respect it. And Wilma and Digby see themselves reflected in the Hopclap parents' faces as they mourn their son, who they never got to properly say goodbye to. They didn't even realise how far gone he was.

If Sklonda, seeing the grieving parents of another sharp and ambitious rogue, determined to be the best, desperate to prove herself, realises that that could've been her. Wondering what she would do if it were Riz who had his own rage used against him, and ultimately dooming him to be the villain of the story.

Do the church mourn Buddy, who was let down by every adult in his life? Who learned to follow and obey before he learned free will. Will they even care, since he turned his back on them, when faced with the choice of oblivion or rage? Or will his parents quietly swallow their grief, and privately hope that, maybe, he got a second chance to find Helio again.

Imagine losing your kid to rage. It becomes hard to talk to them, to forgive them, because of that rage, but you don't understand it. You try and try to get through to them, but all your conversations end in fighting. You resent them, because you don't know what you did wrong. And then, before you can understand, and before you can apologise, before you can tell your kid you love them one more time, they're dead. They died at school, because of teachers they were supposed to be able to trust. And you learn that the rage wasn't natural, that they were used. It's not fair.

[sysig]

He’s my little meow meow, my darling, my bbygirl (Patreon)

[wesavegotham]

The different parts of Gotham War not lining up at all in terms of plot, character motivation and characterization is bad enough, but now that DC is suddenly trying to explain when other titles like Detective Comics and Batman and Robin are taking place in relation to Gotham War it gets even worse because now all of these storylines make so much less sense too.

[penisbilt]

the bittersweet but absolute flood of relief that comes from admitting defeat at living independently, to have to move back in with parents. we tried! we gave it our best shot for almost 3 years! but living like this (being on our own) is just not possible for us at this time of our lives. we've finally proved it to ourselves that we can't do it. it'll be okay to let ourselves rest now

[carefulfears]

usually i'm a post-milagro IVF arc truther but sometimes i feel like the whole process started around alpha and scully was waiting for her results and waiting to ask him...like her energy in that episode is of a wild animal waiting to mate and kill

[tommygettingwrittenoff]

i need eddie to get another guy friend in season 8, and buck loses his shit about it (again), so he breaks up with t because he's convinced that the weird feeling he gets when he sees them together is because he is Really attracted to the new guy.

[gigacat]

One day I'll share my post S3 Billy with y'all

[prismatica-the-strange]

Nope, I'm still crying

[slusheeduck]

Breathe Deep, and Move

Dead.

Dead, dead, dead.

The word kept ringing out in Falerin’s head as he stood in the graveyard, staring at the tombstone in front of him. The streets outside the gates were unfamiliar, despite the fact he’d walked over the cobbled roads hundreds of times before he’d left.

It was just ten years. It had only been ten years. Yes, the fey didn’t keep time the same way mortals did, but he’d tracked the days as best he could and estimated the rest. He should be thirty-six now, though he wouldn’t look it. His mother wouldn’t even be sixty.

And yet here he was, staring at the tombstone that bore her name. Linette Glais. Devoted daughter, mother and wife. She’d been eighty when she died, and judging by the tombstones close by that had the names of aunts, uncles, cousins, and names he didn’t recognize that ended in “Glais”, that was quite a long time ago.

He hadn’t cried when he’d seen the graves, though his throat tightened and his eyes stung. He could feel the grief start to build in him, but the heavy blanket of disbelief was too heavy to let it bubble up. He didn’t even get to say goodbye. She hadn’t known where her boy had gone. She’d likely thought he was dead, but knowing her, knowing how viciously and defiantly she had worked to keep him alive through every scare when his heart had faltered, she would have always hoped he’d come home.

That was when the tears finally started, even as Falerin tried to sweep them away. Sorry replaced the litany that had been playing in his head. Sorry, sorry, sorry. He should have told her where he was going, he should have apologized for brushing off her concerns, he should have visited more after his apprenticeship.

Sorry, Mum. I’m so sorry I left.

He’d imagined the day he’d come home so clearly once he asked for his release from the Court. Striding in, strong with fey magic, to show his mother how healthy he was—an unnatural, limited kind of healthy, but she’d be beaming with relief all the same to know he’d make it another ten years. He could marry, he could have children, he could have all the things he knew she’d wished for but had never said.

He’d imagined dropping in on Fineas in his tower on the edge of town, showing off the magic he’d learned in his time away. Yes, the old wizard would give him a chiding on doing what he’d expressly been told not to do, and there’d be plenty of grumbling about warlocks taking the easy way out, but Fal knew the dwarf would be secretly impressed that he managed to come out of the Feywild in one piece, and fey-favored besides.

But there was no tower anymore. There was hardly a Neverwinter anymore. He’d heard a few comments on Mt. Hotenow erupting some forty years back. Forty years. His mother had already been dead for nearly forty years when it happened. And dwarves lived a while, he knew, but Fineas had already been old when he’d taken Fal as his apprentice. He was likely here too, but Fal couldn’t bring himself to search.

He finally dropped down onto another tombstone, burying his face in his hands. He’d been a fool. A foolish, impatient, impulsive idiot. Of course there’d be a price for spending so long in a fey court. He’d known that going in, and he’d thrown everything he’d known away for…for what? For ten measly years in a city he didn’t know anymore, for a world of strangers that there was no time to really care for?

But what could he do? He’d made his bed. He’d paid his price. And he’d promised a lifetime of adventure to his patron. Even now, he could feel a hum of boredom in the back of his head.

Planning to just waste away here in the graveyard? You’re hungrier than that, she seemed to say. I have bigger plans for you, Falerin Glais. Don’t disappoint now.

Whether that was actually her or his subconscious, it was enough to get Falerin to stem his tears. He wiped his face, taking in a shuddering breath. It was right, though, the voice in his head. The dead wouldn’t care if he rotted away in this graveyard with them. He should be in the ground, but he wasn’t. No sense wasting his chance.

Shakily, he pushed himself back up to his feet, wiping away the last of his tears. He could do this. He could have the adventure he promised to his patron. Fey magic crackled in him, tingling in his fingertips as it begged to be used. He’d make a name for himself yet—something that would never die, even when his own luck inevitably ran out. Maybe not in Neverwinter. But somewhere in Faerûn, he’d make it. It was just taking that first step, and Falerin was the one who had to push himself forward.

Breathe deep, and move.

So he shut his eyes, took a deep breath and took the first step toward his adventure. It might be slow. It might be hard. But it’d be worth it. It had to be worth it.

In the distance, a dark shadow loomed in the sky, making its way toward the city as Falerin exited the graveyard. He didn’t realize it yet, but his adventure was just a few short minutes away from finding him.

Casual Banter masterpost

[alasy]

advices are welcome because i ✨dont know anything anymore✨

[my-thoughts-and-junk]

thinking about. redesigning the dads

[dragons-and-yellow-roses]

I'm deeply sick with something, not sure what, but it's not great. And today is the day I decided to walk 28,000 steps. When I can hardly breathe. Due to the sick.