i don’t really care for lord of the rings all that much but bombadil civil war still makes me lose my mind

It IS true that being on here gives you a tumblr accent. This morning my mother asked me something and i replied "i don't know i've never heard these words in that order" and she nearly choked laughing. It wasn't even that funny

Some of yall need to be more embarrassed about what yall say online and im not talking about the fandom people because at least they have friends that share their niche interests. Some of yall dont even have that and be on here talking to strangers any kind of way and then wonder why ur lonely. Like girl it’s because u are awful to be around

literally any upper middle class tiktok self-identified ‘that girl’ in a pastel workout set with a thirteen step skincare routine and a green juice is a million times closer to being patrick bateman irl than any self-identified sigma film bro

the mighty gar...

(my half of an art trade with @jackalspine!)

Bugs don’t get trapped in resin like they used to. Now everything is woke.

Snufkin and Joxter but with GUNS

Bonus Snufkin alone

D&D going mainstream really messed up people's expectations cause chances are you're not gonna find a DM who has the free time, talent and resources to put on a tale that competes with Tolkien. you're gonna find your friend's roommate Phil who's read one of the manuals a few times and has to pause to get a calculator out to figure out how much damage your attack did and his story is blatantly ripping off a dragon age 2 side quest

eating him

God I miss the days when you could show up to a stranger’s farm and he’d say “What’s your name, boy?” and you’d take off your hat and hold it to your chest to better let him see your face and reply “Why I ain’t got none, sir, on account of my mammy passed on before she could give me one” and he’d tell you he’s real damn sorry to hear that and ask what he can do you for and you’d tell him that you can’t read nor even write neither but you’re mighty good with horses and can mend them fallen fence posts what you saw on your way in and won’t ask for nothing much more than a hot meal and a warm barn to sleep in and he’d keep his wife and daughters inside but send his boy who ain’t got married yet even though his mama tells him he needs a woman out with a lantern and some stew at night and the two of you’d get to talkin and he’d throw you his flask to take a swig from and watch you drinkin from it while he leant against the door frame and when he finally got called back on up to the house again he’d take a sip from it too real slow-like like it weren’t the whiskey what he were tryna savour