Flash Bastard Extraordinare |
Call me D | adult | fae/faer/faers & they/them/theirs. Whatever you followed me for it's not what I'm posting now; I'm so sorry (but not really). Icon by @ineffableplan |
I finally finished the 4th installment in my pokemon landscapes series, electric types represent!
(via magnemite-appreciation)
truly no video game moment will ever surpass the part in portal 2 where glados says “well, this is the part where he kills us” and wheatley says “hello, this is the part where i kill you” and you unlock the achievement titled “the part where he kills you” (description: this is that part) and the chapter title appears on the screen and reads: chapter nine: the part where he kills you
(via milomeepit)
bubble tea should be free as a public service given to girls who are in need of a little treat
(via twinkbitchiero)
Just putting this out there to let people know to watch what they post because you can be found and if you think that the government can’t do this …
Well, you better think again!!
Reminder that in 2017 4chan played capture the flag with Shia LaBeouf. Without any kind of a retail store to use for landmarks they got a rough estimate of the flags location from a livestream. They used the position of the sun to narrow it down to a specific time zone, they tracked the flight paths of planes seen flying overhead to further narrow it down. Then someone in the area drove around honking his horn while viewers on the livestream told him if he was getting closer until he found and stole the flag.
(via chewbaccaaah)
IT’S HALLOWEEN TIME TO GET SPOOKY
I T S T H E M I D D L E O F J U N E
I T I S H A L L O W E E N T I M E T O G E T S P O O K Y
ok who the fuck got this on my dash it’s still june
get spooky
how does this appear every june
T I M E T O G E T S P O O K Y
It appears every June because they’re pride skellies
(via milomeepit)
You are a long forgotten god. A small girl leaves a piece of candy at your shrine, and you awaken. Now, you must do everything to protect your High Priestess, the girl, and her entire kindergarten class, your worshipers.
The stone was immovable, in the past. Indestructible. A spire of granite no mortal hand could even alter.
But mortal hands build clever tools, and these last few hundred years I have lived in dread that they will break this, my sacred stone, the last link that preserves me, a faint shadow of a forgotten god. While my sacred stone stands, I do not, quite, fade away.
I am in a park, now, clipped and tamed, my forests long gone. But they landscape around me and my stone, admiring its beauty, so I do not complain. While they take pleasure in the stone, I am safe.
There is a playground a few lengths away, and the laughter and happy shrieking rouse me a little from my sleep. I watched over children, once. It’s nice to hear them again.
But I don’t truly awaken until the Offering is made.
Little hands touch my stone, with curiosity and a sort of reverence that only the very young feel now. For a child young enough the world is still a mystery, and even an ancient granite stone provokes wonder. So I stir, when she touches the stone, becoming hazily aware.
And then, solemnly, the child places a tiny colourful object in the roughly shaped alcove in the stone’s side, the place where offerings were laid two thousand years ago and more, and I awaken. Many people have put things in that alcove, of course… to take pictures, usually, these days, or putting a lost object where it will be seen. Merely to place an object in the alcove isn’t enough. A true offering is given as a gift, with intent.
As this is.
(via milomeepit)
i wish there were more than 24 hours in a day and beverages were $1 and growing up didn’t hurt so much
(via beaft)