#beck yammers

[faitomato]

i’m gonna rewrite legacy to have tron (and beck) as the major plot characters helping sam (and maybe alan) instead and the legacy motif is doubled or even tripled with sam, beck and jet being the legacy of their respective fathers

[x-i-l-verify]

“Please send me my class work schedule for this week so I can be ready,” I politely message my boss yesterday.

“We have two hour-long classes back to back in 45 minutes, do you want to pick them up?” he messages me 3 hours ago, when I’m still sound asleep with no access to my phone.

Still no actual schedule for the rest of this week.

[wreckham]

How *exactly* did Mufasa die? Was he trampled to death? Was the fall itself lethal, the impact with the ground? Was his body stabbed by antelope horns as he fell on them?

there was a quick pressure, then a flash of light, then nothing. one of his eyes had been crushed in its socket, the "pop" drowned out by the deafening sound of the thundering herd.

the raw, cutting, burning rupturing of his liver and kidneys was unignorably all-encompassing to the point of being oxymoronically distant, for it was so unreal in its magnitude; he had been gored, and the site of the wound had been ripped open further, each stabbing hoof forcibly peeling back more and more of his hide from the mouth of the gash.

he tried over and over to move his legs, any of his legs, but each was broken so profoundly, shattered and splintered and stabbed in between so many muscles, that they didn't even twitch. he tried to move them despite knowing full well that he couldn't feel them anymore.

he could barely even feel the blood clinging to his fur, or on his whiskers and his skin.

it was surreal to him in the same way as seeing a mushroom cloud in the distance would be to you or i, knowing the pyroclastic flow was seconds away but being unable to do anything but watch in awe. he knew he was dying. how could he not?

time slowed as the shock began setting in. a unique rush of chemicals began filling his brain, though being an animal he couldn't understand what was happening. to him, time was not dilated. to him, he was not hallucinating. to him, he was living.

he was caressing the tiny body of his 2 day old son as his beloved wife cooed from over his shoulder. he was being granted position of king of the pridelands by his dearest friend, who whooped and cheered for this as any baboon would. he was sitting under the stars with his kid brother, taking turns pointing out constellations, images formed by the great kings of the past so as to tell mortal leonines of their futures.

taka's small red foot raised and pointed at two particularly bright, white stars.

"just like us, huh?" he'd said.

two days prior, back in the present and away from these looping memories, mufasa had been sitting under the stars with simba, pointing out the same constellations, elaborating on the same stories. simba had been enraptured with them, as all cubs are at such a tender age. the lad had tugged on mufasa's ear, his own little gold paw jutting out towards two more stars, one very large and one very small.

"look, look!" his boy had said. "just like us, huh?"

the pain was soon over, soon too foreign and physical and alive for him to understand. it simply could not register any longer. everything seemed so distant now, and so obvious besides. had he always been warned? lord, had he always known something like this would happen? had this been planned from the beginning, since their adolescent days of bonding and fighting and supporting and hating? and had it been his imagination, or had the larger of the two stars blinked out of existence that other night?

mufasa's throat spasmed and closed in a painful seize, forcing a thick, wet wad of something warm and foul smelling from his esophagus. out wheezed the death rattle, his collapsed lungs bidding goodbye to their utility.

it mattered not, for by now he could not see or hear. by now the left side of his face had been all but caved in, and by now he understood the greatest fear, the greatest of agonies. and it was not because his heart had stopped beating. it was much simpler then that.

his son had no one to protect him now.

and then mufasa died.

[wreckham]

1986: its hip to be square

2022: its based to be cringe

[wreckham]

wait, dont tell me, i know this one

tgirl exists on the gay blog site. interlopers, radshits, and the occasional kiwifarms reject find her blog, viciously verbally abuse her endlessly. tgirl acts nasty and cRiNgE in retaliation as self defense mechanism, make-the-enemy-run-away flavored. casually transmisogynist staff of host site roll their eyes, ban tgirl for being a liability. ppl who hate tgirl cheer, assert that its bc she did this and that ("this" and "that" are almost certainly accusations with a sexual slant to them), encourage unrelated onlookers to do the same. random tme ppl see the anti-tgirl propaganda, also decide to hate tgirl (so they wont be targeted by the harassment mob too for "enabling a predator" or other somesuch horseshit)

cycle repeats anew with new tgirl once every 2-3 months forever and always. nobody but tgirls question this and they try not to question it too loudly lest it happen to them next. i puke. the end

[wreckham]

hand to god when i realized why sketches always look "better" then finished lineart my life changed irreparably

[wreckham]

being a scooby doo fan rn is so great. not bc the velma show is good - its deeply insufferable - but bc now i get to see literally everyone else, be they friend or foe, shitting on it. glad they euthanized the spookhound for this'n actually bc holy shit! watch mystery inc. btw

[wreckham]

laikaposting o'clock. which laika movie would make the best animated series?

[wreckham]

guys ive been packing up my oldass art (like from when i was a kid oldass art) and its fucking me up

[wreckham]

since im back its time to be annoying again. fandom lefties hated paranorman back in the day bc it said directly to their faces that being horribly traumatized bc of ostracism/abuse for unchangeable facets of yourself does not morally absolve you of any harm you do to barely/tangentially related ppl, and GOD that pissed them the fuck off lmao

[wreckham]

fucked up and insane imo that one time hasbro just did up some of their horses as bubblegum goths (this is a compliment). whoever designed the ponymania sets rly did put their whole pussy into it

[wreckham]

this "April Foolery" """Practical Joking""" (a.K.a A PRank) is very upsetting to me myself and sometime i bc of my history in the brony fandom and its.... dare i say HEINOUS utililization of the word b**p. i shan't elaborate, for i cannot stop cryi gn #trauma

btw like this post so i can run up your boopometer

[wreckham]

*disney literary analyst/guy who never gets laid voice* kiara isnt a well written character and disliking her for it isnt a sin against wimmin, but most of the disdain for her is indeed a result of (internalized) misogyny and double standards regarding how "respectable" boy vs "respectable" girl characters are written

[wreckham]

>stumble upon gimmick blog dedicated to making fun of random weird people on the internet >ask the admin if their blog is based around reactionary disgust towards minorities and transgressive identities >they don't understand >pull out illustrated diagram explaining what is reactionary and what is disgust >they laugh and say “it’s a good gimmick blog sir” >read 5 posts >its all reactionary disgust

[wreckham]

i cant stop thinking about how Lisa Frankenstein is one of the best movies ever made ever and i mean ever

[wreckham]

im fucking around with ponies in a game engine and the first npc horse i programmed was Derpy Hooves bc i figured she'd be a good dummy for pegasus npc AI. anyway the first thing she did upon being given life was take off from the ground and fly so high into the sky i couldnt see her (might've broken through the skybox??) before crashing back down into Twilight's Library. satisfied but afraid