#then everyone saying goodbye to you :((((

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Soup solves everything.

[leupagus]

Ted Lasso, the character, is one of the only representations of 'sometimes getting better with your mental health issues means that you are less visibly happy, and that is okay, because you are not required to be happy in order to be loved' out there and I am really discouraged that so much of the audience is angry at that.

[chaos-bringer-13]

Omg I just had a thought! (insert someone joking about this being my first time thinking)

So, you know how in the movies there's someone dying and another character has hallucinations about that dead character and then there is a scene with dead character going like "I'm dead, just let me go"???

Danny. Danny can do that. Or Dani, she's chaotic enough. Just say to someone dramatically all this "I'm dead, you're hallucinating, let me go" speech and go intangible and invisible.

And it can be used for angst where Danny dies in front of someone and has to pretend he's dead, and then they meet each other accidentally and Danny gaslights his way out of it

Or for complete crack with Danny just being a little shit and doing that on every opportunity, several times in one day

Like, character N and Danny end up alone in one room, Danny smirks, N hisses "don't you dare!", and Danny does dramatic speech of "I am deaaad, you're lying to yourself, let me go". Bonus points if just a minute ago Danny was giving a speech to like 10 people, and all of them clearly could see him. More bonus points if Danny accidentally does the hallucination speech in front of someone else, and they just stand there really confused.

[fnaf-memories]

( March 2, 2015 )

9 years ago today, Five Nights at Freddy’s 3 was released.

What are some of your favorite Fnaf 3 memories?

[glitchedmagic]

@theminecraftbee ‘s ficlets about Decked Out eating Tango have been living in my head rent free so here’s a little post-do thing of my own.

-

“The server resets tonight.”

It’s been just over two months since Decked Out finished. Just over two months since anyone has seen or heard from Tango.

Zed knows what happened. Not the details. And he certainly couldn’t explain it to anyone else. But he knows.

And the gnawing feeling of guilt has kept him coming back to the dungeon. Every day.

Decked Out is asleep. Zed can walk through the citadel without a desperate need to throw himself to the ravengers. He can even wander below, into the redstone, without being electrocuted to death. Maybe it’s dead, but Zed doubts it. He knows it’s just sleeping. Eventually, it will wake up. It will be hungry and will lure whoever enters this world into its depths.

Maybe that’s when Tango will wake up too.

Zed won’t be here to see it.

“Who knows when you’ll be able to eat again?”

His voice is quiet but he knows the whole dungeon can hear him. He plays with the clasp on his gas mask. Tango’s storage room, where he lays on the dusty floor, has enough oxygen flowing through it still to allow him to breathe without the mask, though he’s already getting a bit of a headache. He’ll put the mask back on soon. Eventually.

“One last snack?”

He’s offered the dungeon himself hundreds of times these past few months. As a player, when it was live, hoping to spark a bit of his friend’s life back into him. Then after. Hoping for something. For a glimpse of flickering blue flame and wide eyes that had long since given up pretending to see.

There’s quiet.

There’s so much guilt in the quiet.

Don’t worry, Zed. Just a few months. Not too big of a project.

All good here. With level one done, the rest will go a lot quicker.

Yeah, level three got away from me a bit. Level four will be smaller, don’t worry.

Audio needed to be reworked, you know how it is. Soon.

Just tired, lost track of time last night.

Not too much longer now.

Don’t worry, I’ll be back to normal when the game’s done. Promise.

Did Tango know he was lying?

Zed is well aware that what he’s doing isn’t good for him. It’s ironic, how Tango pulled away from everyone, to eventually disappear in this cave. And now Zed’s doing the same thing.

It was always Tango pulling Zed out. Into the sun for a stupid game or a ridiculous project.  So it makes sense that without him, Zed can’t bring himself to leave the hole.

“I could break more redstone.” Zed offers the dungeon. “Really get you mad.”

He’d done that. About two weeks after Decked Out went dormant. He hadn’t gotten a reaction at the time. But the next day, everything was repaired.

That had spurred Zed into doing a stakeout. Break some stuff, sit and wait until the dungeon brought Tango out to fix it.

Zed had died down in the redstone, waiting. It hadn’t been a pleasant death.

That’s when Impulse had stepped in, staging his own intervention. But all it had done is make Zed feel more guilty.

An intervention for the guy who failed to do an intervention when Tango needed it most.

See? Ironic.

His head is starting to pound. He puts his mask back on.

“I want my friend back, you stupid castle,” He says through the mask. The dungeon understands him anyways.

He won’t be getting Tango back. He’s known that for much longer than he can admit.

Time passes. His phone dings a few times. It’s just the others. Making preparations. The server resets in just a few hours.

“Was it worth it?” Zed asks. “Not you, dumb dungeon. I’m asking Tango. Was it worth it? Did you make this choice? Did you know the consequences?”

Silence.

“Did you ever consider saying goodbye?”

The thing is? Tango was saying goodbye. In the only way he could. It was in the heartfelt artifacts crafted for each hermit. It was in his own voice, echoing words throughout the dungeon long after his own voice left him. It was in every ounce of the game.

None of them saw it until it was too late.

Zed stands. He has to be at spawn soon. He has stuff to pack. He has his own hole in the ground to say goodbye to.

He takes the long way out. Up into the main room of the citadel.

There’s a small part of him that hopes to see a glint of Tango. That’s what’s supposed to happen, right? A little wisp of blue fire. A soft voice. A gust of wind blowing a loose piece of paper across the floor. Something he can look at and be comforted by.

Nothing happens.

Zed knows that Tango’s gone.

He stands at the door. It’s open just a crack, just like he left it.

The night is clear.

“Goodbye, Tango.”

[hearts401]

speechless

[inkskinned]

i turn 29 on july 1st. i feel like i make a lot of these notes to myself, to check in. hi, me, here's what's happening.

hi, me. hi, you, too, if you keep reading. here's some rules i have been following:

when a book is bad, i put the book down. i choose something i like instead. when i don't like a movie, i don't make myself watch until the end. i care less and less what people think about me and focus more on being a good friend.

for the 6 months or so, i've been asking people what they think should be my next book or tv show. i ask them where i should go on a walk next week. i ask them what food i should try next, what hobby. and then i write it down in front of them.

the truth is some stuff slips through the cracks. but most of the time? within two weeks, i get to send my favorite kind of text - so i tried the thing you were talking about and !

i have a new policy for split-second choices - it's better to try it. i have social anxiety. i have to talk myself into doing many things. i am constantly battling the desire to run away as far as my feet will take me. and then i stand up and i do the thing anyway. i make myself act and dance and sing. sometimes, yes, i know-immediately never again, i hate this. but most of the time - i just have fun with it.

i have a new mantra - nobody is scorekeeping. at the end of my life, there will be no grand reading of how many calories i'd been eating. no reviews on how many boring documentaries i forced myself through, no calculation on how many hours i endured an extremely dull educational podcast. and so what if i try karaoke and i don't actually nail it? so what if i stumble over my words while trying to make a public announcement? so what if i wear something too-showy to go to the grocery store? nobody there knows me, and: nobody's keeping score.

life doesn't resolve with a grade (i know, i was as shocked as everyone else when i realized it). i am not falling behind, because there's no curriculum to life that i should be following. there are no checkpoints; nobody is making sure i have a fully-furnished life resume. i am just here for as long as the earth will have me, and i get to decide what makes me happy.

i don't have a partner or a house or anything that is supposed to belong to people-my-age. i spend most of my time focusing on being kind, compassionate, ready to listen without restraint.

and honestly? i feel good. like actually. i kind of like it this way.

[willowser]

okay but. vigilante!bakugou. with a full mask to cover his face, the only "super" one in a quirkless world. literally every dc trope ever, but i don't care because with him, it's so afhakfha.

you work together in some office job and he's always coming in late with his trousers loose and his shirt untucked. never really speaks to you, except for when there's a group task that needs to get done and your team reserves the conference room to figure out how you'll divide the work and he ends up sitting beside you somehow. borrows a pen, because he forgot one.

other than that, you just know of him, bakugou katsuki. quiet. always frowning. looks like he'd bite your head off for looking at him sideways. doesn't really catch your eye — though you agree with your coworker that he's kinda handsome when he's not scowling — and you don't think he's the kinda guy that's gonna go out for drinks after work with you and the team. and you're right, because he can't.

truth be told, you're not really interested anyway — because you're kinda-sorta, really-super into this guy dynamight, who stops by your apartment every night.

it's thanks to him that you didn't get mugged and left for dead in some alleyway a few months back, and though you think that makes him rather trustworthy, you know your friends would have a cow about the fact that you've never heard his voice or seen his face. that you're always sitting on the rooftop of your complex, waiting, until he's so close that you can feel the echo of his explosions in your chest. reverberating beneath your bones, just like your heartbeat.

you don't know why he bothers, but you also don't really care. he listens to the needless recount of your day, even huffs out a laugh at times. the most you've ever seen of him is the lower half of his face, the cut of his jaw when he took a drink from the chilled water bottle you had waiting. maybe a flash of his hair, but it'd been dark and you can't for the life of you remember if it was blonde or maybe light brown ?

the city is dying to know who he is because, despite being so explosive, he's pretty good at going quiet when he needs to; always manages to get away from the swarm of red and blue that chases him down the highway. and yeah, maybe taking justice into his own hands is a teeny bit irresponsible, okay, but you can't help but to feel a little safer, walking home under his echoing boom as he shoots across the sky.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

No teen farewell is complete without embarrassment.

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[alpacacare-archive]

If i think about noelle deltarune too hard i just crumple and die a little. I just want to give her her sister back and never replay the game again

[compacflt]

wip wednesday: made a HUGE amount of progress this week (for context—purple is unfinished & yellow is finished; last week all of them were purple) … i am in the home stretch here

[zeravmeta]

one again crying thinking about one piece 1102

[sovietpostcards]

Today is the last day of Maslenitsa (the Pancake Week)!

[hawkeyeslaughter]

white knuckling the bathroom sink and summoning whatever strength i need to get through the late captain pierce

[joyus-whimsy]

I did it boys… I finished red dead redemption two.

[belpheg0r-luna]

If my parents wanted me not to question my gender identity they should not have given me old timey classics to read at the ripe age of 7 and ever since, where the main characters are always boys, the only interesting characters with depth and personality are always boys and the only interesting storylines happened to only boys. I have literally zero connection to any gender right now, just gimme a good story and an "author" who speaks in first person and I'm there living that life.