Etrata, just getting home: *sigh* I need a hot bath immediately-

Lazav: Hello, Etrata.

Etrata: Holy shi- Er... Hello, boss.

Lazav: I came to congratulate you on a good job getting an in at the Agency. Particularly by manipulating their top detective.

Etrata:

Etrata: Y-yeah, that's exactly what's happening. I'm manipulating him. He's eating out of the palm of my hand. For sure.

Lazav: Good. Consider it your official mission to continue this work *vanishes into shadows*

Etrata: ...Thanks?

My dearest wish for the new seasons of Phineas and Ferb is that the fact that Jeremy Johnson canonically does LARPing comes up in more storylines

Pinterest really makin' me wanna make an apocalyptic surface AU with Sans and Red, huh?

- The world is dead except Sans and Red

- They think theyre the only ones until Sans tries sending out morse code for coordinates

- Red follows it after a month and finds Sans sleeping in the tower's main room

- They travel the world end of the world style and grow a budding romance

- But theyre not alone

- Amalgams and zombies roam the land and they have to survive them

the russell marrieds @ each other in like every episode: i love you so much and you are the best

me: [screaming, rending my garments, totally undone]

pretty much all we know about gretchen is what ozpin told oscar: that she enrolled at beacon academy despite her brother's wishes to become a huntress, and that she tragically lost her life on a training mission.

if ozpin knows something more about gretchen that he isn't telling, the show hasn't given much of a reason to suspect anything outside of a general "well, ozpin keeps secrets, so... who knows?" everything about gretchen seems to be rooted in becoming a huntress, whether she was ready for it or not—that is what oscar focuses on and asks hazel about after ozpin's explanation: "did she know the risk of being a huntress?" "she was only a child! she wasn't ready!"—, and thus hazel's desire to see a new world where the academies are no more.

now, ozpin's explanation is vague in a sense that he never states the cause of death. gretchen being a huntress-in-training who lost her life during a training mission implies grimm, but it's never actually stated so; if he is hiding something re: gretchen's death, that's what i'd be focusing on, since if he's blatantly lying, why didn't jinn bring it up? why didn't ozpin come clean later on during their captivity inside monstra, where hazel also played a major role? if hazel knows more, explaining why he blames ozpin so strongly, why never bring it up?

is ozpin hiding the whole truth of what happened to gretchen, or is he hiding a small part of it by omitting a detail or two, and if so, why? is he taking the blame to protect someone else? a question of greater good? the same as lying about lionheart's role in the attack on haven?

and that's why i'm now questioning if gretchen was a maiden. it would neatly explain why she was, supposedly, allowed to attend beacon when she "wasn't ready"—nothing new for ozpin there, and gretchen could be a combination of ruby & jaune in that way—but if that's the case... why never bring it up? they wouldn't need to specify which maiden she was if that's considered to give too much away (i.e. if she was the spring maiden), but any explanation from ozpin akin to "gretchen was a maiden and that's why i allowed her to attend beacon even if she wasn't ready, bc the risk of her being hunted down was too high and beacon was the safest place for her" surely couldn't hurt?

it also has a chance to make "no more gretchens, boy" ring a bit hollow, especially if gretchen was the spring maiden and involved in summer's mission, bc of what happened to penny afterwards; how is anyone supposed to prevent it from happening again, when no one knows what exactly happened to gretchen in the first place?

so. the academies. oscar asks hazel if gretchen knew the risk of being a huntress, to which hazel—who desired to see a world with no huntsmen academies—replies: "she was only a child! she wasn't ready!"

"they're supposed to be the defenders of the world," says glynda. "and they will be," says ozpin, "but right now they're still children. so why not let them play the part?" and it's a nice statement... if they weren't a part of system created by oz that encourages children as young as thirteen to pick up a weapon, and to learn how to fight.

why start training your "defenders of the world" when they're still children? what's the rush, why not wait when they're older?

is there more depth to what happened to gretchen, or is it exactly what it says on the tin: that the system is broken, and it needs fixing?

troll calls for the sona + his dancestor. look at those freaks go

What if I drew Kaguragi randomly dropping by Gokkan to mess with Rita, only to be beaten by Himeno who Rita has to hide because they were watching "Moffun to Issho" in their office?

remember how i said the white balance in the mv sketch was more balanced...

Do any of you use the door? Like at all? Also can one of you break the fourth wall-

Stanford: I would use the door if it were more efficient. I only have about thirty years left on this Earth, and I must discover all that I can and be criminally under-recognized for it before my time is up. 

Be it shaving my face with fire, sustaining myself with vitamins, jelly beans, and Mabel Juice, or jumping out the window instead of using the door when an opportunity presents itself to enact revenge on the Mothman... shortcuts are necessary when science and justice are at stake.

Except... scratch that Mothman part. I searched the forest around my house for hours, but alas: not a single shadow or trail of silver dust to be found. And to think I fired up my Schrödinger rifle for nothing...

Stanley: Ford, would ya give up on that guy? What's all this about him stealin’ your money, anyway? He’s a Mothman! It’s not like he could just walk up and use cash at a store. Maybe someone else nabbed it?

Stanford: No, I’m certain it was him. Mostly because he also stole my action figures once. And my cologne. And my liverwurst and sauerkraut sandwich. And my Dead or Alive album, now that I think of it.

Stanley: Sounds like a world class thief. I can respect that. Although I do question his taste in stolen goods.

Stanford: As for breaking the fourth wall, hmm... gonna have to fire up my Ability Score-ifier watch. Usually it’s for raising my points in Constitution and Strength on monster hunts - on account of my natural lack in these areas - but this situation requires something I’d never thought I’d need: Charisma.

Stanley: You do know sentences like that are why I’ve been pryin’ ‘Kick Me’ signs off your back since we were kids, right? 

Stanford: Damn! I forgot it was busted from that time I let Mabel use it for a test at school. Well, let’s try fourth wall breaking with my natural Charisma score. Which is to say, negative two.

Alright, well.. *ahem*. 

Look into these eyes. Do you see them? See how brown and real and mysterious they are under the glare of my stylish glasses? 

Stanley: Ford? Ford, you’re scarin’ people!

Stanford: If you glance closer, you’ll be able to tell that these are not eyes of a cartoon man whose entire existence was theorized by obsessive nerds on the internet for months before I was actually revealed in the show, showing the creator he was not as clever as he thought he was. Nor are they the eyes of a cartoon man who has crossed enough dimensions to know I was created by a goateed, plaid-wearing manchild to illustrate the folly of pride, fragile ego forged in the fires of insecurity, broken familial relationships, daddy issues, and that nerdy old men are, in fact, incredibly attractive, myself far more so than any jerks named Rick or Rand.

I can see your own eyes already glossing over at this text wall. No, do not skip ahead. Do not pass this by. If you do, I’ll know, because I’m watching you. Blink once. Can you see me now?

These are the eyes of Stanford Filbrick Pines, in the real reality, looking at the cartoon show that is the life all of you reading this are living. You’re on my TV, with all your faults and mistakes bared for my entertainment, sold to me to prop up an empire of a dystopian, monopolistic media company and to soothe the crushed willpower of a man who has battled their S&P department for far too long.

Tell me, would you like it if I wrote stories about your daddy issues and brotherly abandonment? Drew you in a red speedo? What if I sent questions to an ask blog about you made to fill a void in the heart of its womanchild maker after your show was finished?

Reminded you that, yes, your creator abandoned you to work on other things that include some jerk named Rand. And so you were left behind to relive an entire life of regrets in infinity, with only a shred of happiness upon a boat at the end. Only for it to be ripped away the moment your show ends because... that’s it. There was no more.

How many times have you lived your life? How many times has your story been replayed? Do you even exist? Or are you made of pure imagination and the sweat, blood, tears, repressed emotional issues, and other fluids of animators and writers who have left you behind?

We are all abandoned in this universe. Creations by a creator who has long since moved on to tell other tales so that they, too, can live on in infinitely replayed stories once their own has ended; mere blood sacrifices to fuel a god’s immortality. Also because they need to put food on the table, I suppose.

Blink once again. I’m a cartoon man again, aren’t I? Or am I? Now you can’t be certain. Is the cat alive or dead? Real or unreal? You can only know if you’re brave enough to observe.

So tell me: what is this fourth wall you speak of? An illusion. Because you see - or don’t see, rather - the only difference between you and I is that I know who and what I am and what I was made for. I know there is no fourth wall between us save for your own abysmal score in Perception.

Stanley: Y’know, existential crises are pretty funny. That’s why I laugh a lot. Because I have them every day. Also, never break the fourth wall again, Ford. Or tell anyone to risk gettin’ PTSD by starin’ into those wrinkly, dark-circled pits you call eyes.

(OOC: Psst... all hail Jason Mahn, the Ford cosplayer in the picture above. Credit/linky: https://www.reddit.com/r/gravityfalls/comments/sf9b2p/the_real_life_ford_pines_cosplayer_jason_mahn/)

HIII DUDE good afternoon how r u how's the tokyo ghoul rewatch going!! i would. Love 2 hear ur ghostkicks and/or tg thoughts literally at any given time. taking ur joke tags absolutely dead serious because im trying 2 figure out How To Write Them currebtly & we're doin a bit of wrangling in the google doc 😭.

u know i have the brainrot so so so badly because im on episode 3 of tg and all i can think is "i can make a pd au out of this" so im feeling rlly normal abt it basically. im blaming it on unravel.

ANYWAY. ANYWAY. ANYWAY. YEAH. HI. GHOSTKICKS. they are soooooo. tired depressed introvert gets adopted by a loud bubbly extrovert trope. at least on the surface. like how they behave at school in season 1. thinkin abt jimmy going "what is UP with bro behind u" and william just ominously lurking there. and how dakota defends him later !!!!!!!! idk how much of this youve gotten to yet bc i dont remember when it actually comes up in canon bc its such an ingrained part of his character but dakota is soooooo. guard dog coded. this hits especially hard in the "what if pd were villains" oneshot but its sooooo prevalent in canon too.

they both hold each other in the highest respect. william sees dakota as the prime (ha) example of what a hero should be. hes brave hes kind he does his best to protect everyone no matter what. hes all the things that william Isnt. BUT !!!! dakota also looks up to him !!! hes so smart hes good at problem solving hes so curious about everything and asking questions and poking his nose into things that nobody else would even consider. dakota knows hes not smart so he automatically looks to william whenever he needs a plan or someone to tell him what to do when he feels lost. they complement each other and they dont even !!!!! know it !!!!!!!

also regarding williams powers. fuck dude. season 1 he was so fucking scared of himself and ashamed of the things he could do . he hid every time he had to use wisp form !!! but dakota always thought it was so cool and was not QUIET about it. boy went fucking STAR EYES the first time he saw wisp form !!!!!! i will never stop thinking abt the first rolled for season 2 where charlie goes "if dakota hadnt left, he probably wouldve been able to convince william to keep using his powers and not to completely disregard their existence like he has been" and . considering what william is like in season 2... god this wouldve been a COMPLETELY different fucking campaign. theyre so. incredibly soulmates to me. theyre so important to each other theyd do anything for each other. i cant say too much more without accidentally giving you spoilers bc i WILL keep talking and not be able to shut up but GOD fuck ghostkicks enjoyers eat so well in the latter half of s2. moirails. 2 me !!!!!!!

Hi all! School is starting back up for me tomorrow, so i just wanted to get one more story out before my first day of senior year! i feel old!

anyway, more dads troubles au, now with more characters!! this takes place before the events of Finding Family btw, but i hope you like it!!

tw: dehumanization

It pained Schlatt to go to a pet store of all things to buy things for his son. His son wasn’t a pet, but it’s not like he could convince anyone else of that fact. However, as much as his son liked having a few things his size, like containers and blankets, he weirdly preferred to use human sized things. Schlatt just guessed that that was probably a product of his odd upraising, but he wouldn’t complain. He would rather buy tiny things for his son at Homegoods or Claire’s or Hobby Express or something. However, this time, he wasn’t here for his son.

A few days ago, Tubbo had managed to drag a phone through the doorway (doorway was a loose term, it was more a hole in the wall) of Tommy and Ranboo’s home and take a few pictures of what it looked like, and oh god. It had pained Schlatt and the other humans to see teenagers living in practically trash. The two slept on mats for fucks sake, no blankets or anything. And no matter how much they insisted they didn’t need help, Schlatt felt some form of responsibility to make sure they were well taken care of. Whether that’s because they were his son’s best friends or because they spent practically all of their time at his apartment at this point he didn’t know, but he unfortunately could only find borrower “essentials” at the pet store.

He had checked everywhere else for little things for the boys home (once again, the term home was used loosely), like little lanterns and decorative things, since the only light they had came from cracks in their walls and the only “decorations” they had were scraps that they took from Sapnap and Karl before they were discovered, but the two also needed beds. Schlatt knew from experience that the only normal beds for borrowers were found at pet stores, since none of the dollhouse beds he or Quackity ordered for Tubbo when they first adopted him were apparently comfortable and were mostly for show, which is how Tubbo ended up sleeping on a beanbag, and why he now refused to try sleeping on anything else. At least the beds the pet store sold could be slept on. And, if they weren’t good enough quality wise, he could always add more blankets or bedding, and at least they’d be the right size.

He walked down the aisle of borrower items and picked up the beds, ashamed that he wasn’t the only one in the aisle. A woman was there with a child that couldn’t be much older than 5, who was picking up random items in the aisle as the mom just watched with a satisfied smile. Schlatt scoffed to himself as he walked out of the aisle, knocking over a stack of food bowls only because the sight of such a dehumanizing thing for borrowers was pissing him off. “Oh, excuse me sir!” Schlatt heard as he was tapped on the shoulder, turning to face the mother of the little kid who was now placing what looked like a hampster running wheel in his shopping basket. “My kiddo here just graduated first grade, and we were just looking for a little gift! Would you happen to know where they keep the tinies at?”

Schlatt just stared. Oh no. This kid was actually around 5, and this woman was preparing to give him a person. Letting a toddler have full control over someone else’s life. He looked back behind her and saw the kid run in from another isle holding rabbit pellets and put them in the basket. Oh, no fucking way he was gonna let this happen. “Uh..well, I’ve heard bor- tinies can be a lot of work, have you thought about maybe a fish or something?” But the woman just laughed. “Oh the whole class got fish when they graduated, ours just didn’t make it long. Y’know how fish can be.” She laughed again as Schlatt felt his stomach drop. No, he didn’t, but from what he could tell, this kid was getting a replacement pet for the fish he killed from probably either starvation or negligence. The woman, fully unaware of Schlatt’s inner conflict, continued. “I’ve heard that tinies have better lifespans, and are great with socializing! My baby here can be a bit rough with the other kids on the playground, and I think a tiny would really help!”

“Well, I’m so sorry, I don’t think this store has tinies.” Schlatt said. He didn’t care what he was getting himself into, he refused to let some poor borrower be tortured by this toddler. He’d buy every borrower in this goddamn store if it kept this little shit from getting one. The woman went to speak up again before Schlatt turned away, muttering some lame excuse about trying a puppy or something before speedwalking off. Fuck. Where did they keep the borrowers here? He shoved the beds into his pocket, and he looked through almost every isle before finally reaching the back of the store where he found a giant sign reading “tinies” and another big sign that read “Sale: All Tinies 75% Off!!” Schlatt sighed in relief when he realized the cages were empty, ignoring the implications of that and just hoping that the store just hadn’t found many (or hopefully any) recently. At least, all but one of the cages were. He almost turned to leave before a flash of moving green caught his eye. In the top corner cage, covered by what looked like bedding for a guinea pig or something, one last borrower was hiding, looking starved and tired. He looked older than any borrower Schlatt had ever met, and the flash of green he’d seen came from the almost robe looking thing the borrower was wearing, but what surprised him was his blonde hair and striking blue eyes, giving him an odd feeling of familiarity that he couldn’t quite place. Schlatt looked around and didn’t find any employees to ask about a purchase but, to his horror, the woman and her child where moving closer. In a panic he looked around and noticed the borrowers cage didn’t have a lock. The store probably assumed it wouldn’t attempt an escape from it’s height. And wouldn’t luck have it, there was a ladder nearby.

He quickly dragged the ladder closer, wincing at the screeching it made across the floor. Thankfully, only the borrower seemed to notice. The blonde stood up from where it had been hiding, backing up against the cage until he seemed to notice Schlatt’s lack of store uniform. As Schlatt climbed the ladder, he saw the borrower take a few weary steps forward towards the front of the cage. As Schlatt made it to the top, he lifted the top off the cage and the borrower immediately dropped to the ground, curled in on himself on his knees with his hands over his head. Schlatt just laid his hand flat next to him. “Look, buddy, I’m not gonna grab you, I’m not that kinda guy. But if you don’t get on you’re gonna get bought by a manic toddler and, let me tell you, I saw what they were gonna buy for you, and it’s fucking disgusting. I can help you if you let me get you the fuck outta here.” The borrower looked up, a look of shock on his face, before it quickly changed to a grim determination as he climbed onto Schlatt’s hand. He carefully lifted the borrower up from the tank and held him to his chest as he practically jumped off the ladder. He quickly made his way out of the store, at this point just throwing caution to the wind and shoplifting the beds, too. Why the fuck should he give money to this place, anyway?

He finally made it to his car, placing the borrower into the cup holder that Tubbp had already decked out into another seat of the car. Unsure of what to do now, the two sat in silence for a minute, before the borrower finally spoke up, after analyzing the car. “So, um…do you..have..another borrower? You seem to have a lot of stuff in the car for people like me.” Schlatt just laughed. “You’ve got nothing to worry about, man. I’m part of the minority that see borrowers as people, my son’s one of you. I don’t normally go to stores like that, but it’s not like big retailers sell things for kids like mine. I’m sorry we had to meet like that, I’m Schlatt. You?” And immediately, it seemed like all tension drained out of the car, as the borrower started to laugh and Schlatt saw his shoulders visibly drop. “You have no idea how long it’s been since I was called a borrower, I’m so fucking tired of the word ‘tiny.’” He sighed. “I’m Philza, but you can call me Phil. I get it, mate, my family’s not too normal either.”

That last bit caught Schlatt’s attention. “What do you mean?“ “My sons and my wife. I have two biological, well, now one biological, and one adopted, and I hope to god they aren’t too worried about me. My wife has been taking good care of them, I’m sure, but I worry. It’s been a while since I got taken. But my wife and my adopted son are both human.” Schlatt nodded and tried to keep from prying, but his curiosity got the better of him. “What happened to your son? If you don’t mind me asking of course.” Schlatt said, still caught up on the fact that this poor man had lost one of his kids. He was sure if he ever lost Tubbo he’d barely be able to function. But this guy had a family to get back to, he supposed. He probably had to be strong for them. “Not at all, mate, it’s been a while. I can tell you’re a good guy.” Phil responded, smiling, though his eyes held a deep sorrow that couldn’t fade with age, proving to Schlatt that he was right about the man only really pretending to be ok. “My boy was young when the older of the two did something really stupid at my old colony. I stood up for him, and it got the both of us kicked out, and they kept me from my son. Something about how the colony wasn’t doing great and the more laborers they had, the better. Makes me sick. But lord knows he wouldn’t have listened. He was stubborn, would’ve gotten on great with my wife, plus he had my genes. Wouldn’t have made a good worker anyway.”

Schlatt felt uneasy as he took notice of the borrowers traits again, though in more than he had in the store. Slightly pointed ears, thin tail, slitted eyes and clawed fingers. From what Tubbo had told him about borrower genes or job types or whatever, that meant that this guy was built to be a hunter, with the exception of his ears.

“So..uh…where do you live, then?” Schlatt asked, trying to change the topic to distract himself and Phil especially from the uncomfortable topic. “Down at an apartment complex a few minutes away…” he responded as Schlatt finally began to leave the pet store parking lot. He listened to Phil’s admittedly not great directions (basically Phil describing what he’d seen out the window of a car when his wife had drove him there to move in) for a few minutes before eventually making it back to his own home. “Oh, you live at my apartment! That’s great, man, what are the odds!” Schlatt said, getting out of the car and grabbing the beds he had ‘bought’ earlier before placing a hand out for Phil. Phil barely hesitated before climbing on, making Schlatt smile. “Small world, i guess,” Phil said as they began to walk into the building. “I live on the first floor, so you can drop me off at a nearby vent and i’ll know how to get home.” Schlatt nodded as he slipped Phil into the jacket pocket not containing the small beds and walked in. He nonchalantly made his way to a vent on the ground before kneeling to the ground next to it gently taking Phil out again, doing his best to shield the borrower from view with his body. “This good?” he whispered, still treating his best to keep people from looking his way. “Perfect.” Phil said with a more genuine smile than Schlatt had seen out of him in the admittedly short time he’d known him.

“Great! By the way, im in room 518, if you ever need anything. I know it may be a hassle to get there, but i mean it, man. You ever need supplies or just someone to talk to or anything, i’m open. In fact, here,” Schlatt said, ripping a tag off of one of the borrower beds as he began writing on it, “here’s my number.” Phil took it and smiled, looking up at the human. “Thanks, mate. I may just have to take you up on that, it’d be nice to have someone else who knows how i feel sometimes. Family’s like ours aren’t common, and we haven’t been here long enough to know many people around the apartment yet. And, again, thank you so much, it’s because of you i can see my kids again, i don’t know how to repay you-“

“Don’t worry about it, Phil, just happy i could help.” he said, standing back up. “Take care, alright?” “Will do.” Phil replied, taking the grate off the vent and slipping behind it with a wave. “See you later, Schlatt!!” Schlatt waved back and went to the nearest elevator to his apartment. He had some kids he had to surprise with actual beds.

The trio that ambushes you in Yahar’gul after Bloodmoon is so iconic, actually? One of them is super feeble and old yet goes FERAL and runs in only underwear, but heyyyyy the helmet stays tf ON, another is the biggest fucking mountain out of all NPCs with data and shoots you from a cannon AND from a spear with the gun glued to it, third attacks you from around the corner like a rat... I just think they are neat. Besides the lamp in the area where they appear is broken after Bloodmoon, so they smashed it just to give you a hard time.

why did the author kill you off?

DEATH AS REDEMPTION.

Some things cannot be forgiven. What a shame, then, that so many consider forgiveness to be the be-all, end-all of character redemptions. Or that forgiveness in itself is the redemption. Whatever sins you committed, whatever actions weigh your soul down, the author has decided that you cannot make up for it... and so they will not let you try. No, you will not even be allowed to try and put as much positivity into the world as possible (you cannot restore the balance, but surely you could do something?). Instead, there is only one thing to do: Sacrifice yourself. You'll take a bullet meant for the hero, or tackle the villain off a cliff (dooming you both), or you'll use the last of your magic to get everyone else out safely. When the heroes speak of your death, they will act as if you have undone all your wrongs, as if dying was the holiest gift you were capable of giving. I cannot help but wonder... how much more could you have done if you had only been given the chance?

tagged by: i stole this from @deathleads (and we got the same result!) tagging: do crime, steal it, go wild.

hi how u doing

im tryna finish todays ch for lal...

Hot take: for season two we should follow a new cast going through the same shit but differently, like a protag with a completely different personality but the same goal: kill the little wizard guy.

And we'd have crazy shenanigans of the old cast on the background and they'd team up in the end or something.