Bless The Nonbinary Questmaster

No that’s Ginger. Gender is the machine with the spinning blades that you use to make smoothies

no that’s gengar. gender is a game of skill that involves balancing wooden blocks

When Adam bit the apple he did it because he trusted Eve. Because he loved her. Adam bit into the apple because the woman he loved told him to, no matter what God said. No matter the rules of heaven. What’s heaven to a woman’s love anyway? What’s God to your wife? The first sins of humanity, were trusting others. Eve trusted a snake, Adam trusted Eve, and I trust you. Maybe that’s a sin, just like the first couple. Maybe everyone’s right about us and we’re sinners and we offend God. But like I said, what’s God to a woman’s love anyway? What has heaven got that I can’t find sitting next to you on a cool autumn morning?

GARYYYYYYYYYYY

read cucumber quest

Gary. Just Gary.

I take in a deep intake of breath, pressing my palms flat against each other. “Okay,” I say. Point towards a youthful face that stared back at me with wide eyes. “You’re me.” My finger flicks toward the other face that stared at me. “And you’re me, too.” My fingers interlock with one another, press firmly against my forehead. “And you’re all here, in my room...why?” Future-Me and Younger-Me exchange a quick glance. Or rather, Future-Me glances towards Younger-Me, as Younger-Me is having way too much fun with my phone. “Universe likes to mess around,” Future-Me finally manages to say. I groan and lean against the headboard of my bed. “Right,” I mumble. Rub my eyes. “That makes sense.” My gaze gets drawn back towards Younger-Me. That childlike innocence. That optimistic hope. They had the whole world wrapped around their little finger - and they had no idea. No idea. Clueless, to what was coming. My eyebrows furrow. I lean forward, my mouth open and- Future-Me stops me by holding a palm out to my face. They meet my gaze, shaking their head. “Don’t,” they say. “You can’t do it.” I straighten to give Future-Me an incredulous look. “They don’t know what’s going to happen,” I say. “Neither did you,” Future-Me reminds. “That’s why they happened.” “I can stop it.” My fingers clench. “I can warn them-” “In the unlikely event that they even understand you,” Future-Me interrupts. “Changing the future can be devastating.” My teeth ground against each other and I glance away. Future-Me was right, and I knew it. As much as I hated knowing, as much as every fibre of my being wants to shake Younger-Me and tell them all the signs to look out for- I can’t. A hand rests on my shoulder. I glance back up, meeting Future-Me’s sympathetic gaze. “You’re angry,” they say. “Wound’s still fresh, huh?” I wince, then sigh. “Somewhat,” I mutter. The hand on my shoulder tightens slightly. “They have to go through what we went through,” they remind me. “They have to learn what we learnt - which means that they will have to meet Her.” Another hand rests on my other shoulder. Turns me around so I fully face my ten-years-in-the-future self.  “They’ll get hurt,” Future-Me murmurs. Gives Younger-Me a sorrowful glance. They sigh, then glance back up at me with a hopeful smile. “But they’ll survive. Just like we did.” I stare into my own eyes for a while, then sigh and nod acceptance. “I know,” I murmur. Give Younger-Me my own glance. “I just can’t- can’t help but worry.” Future-Me chuckles. “Oh yeah, you never really stop.” “Is that a general thing or are you being specific to me?” “I can’t tell you,” Future-Me wags a finger, “just like you can’t tell Younger-Us.” I huff, annoyed. Then sit still, my eyes widening. A hopeful glance back towards Future-Me.  “Does this mean the future’s good enough not to risk?” I ask. Future-Me meets my gaze and smiles; amused. “Maybe.” A lonesome chuckle spills past me. “That’s probably the best thing I’m getting,” I mutter. Future-Me wraps an arm around my shoulder and draws me into a half-hug. “I knew you’d come around,” they tease softly. Our attentions are both drawn back as Younger-Me releases a short giggle of laughter. The smiles on all our faces mirror one another. “What’re you doing?” “Playing!” “Are ya winning?” “Yeah!”

prompt 1394

Write a story that has three characters: yourself ten years ago, yourself now, and yourself ten years from now.

what the fuuuuuuuuuccck

was the ending to little nightmares II

what the fuck

give me my fixation back you stupid, gloriously amazing game

When are the glowy cats dropping I wanna get one

Scientists have discovered how to make glow-in-the-dark cats by inserting the jellyfish genes that create fluorescent proteins into feline eggs.

oh, hello.

i’ve been doing well thank you. school will start soon for me so that’s not fun.

writing? well i haven’t been writing too much, but i did start up a new docs about the mandalorian.

it’s going well so far, thanks. 

is it angsty?

“You know you look nothing like him,” she murmured softly - lightly stroking the line of his ears. “But every time I look at you, it’s like-”

Grogu reached forward, resting a tri-fingered hand on Ba’vodu Cara’s slightly damp cheek.

A shaky breath passed. Then another, tinged with a sob. In a quick, sudden movement, Grogu was pressed into Ba’vodu’s chest as she dropped to her knees.

i guess you can call it that.

What’s Your Ideal Place To Relax?

There is this place, in my head, that never fails to come to my aid. It is there when I need it most, and it has never not been there for me. I could joke that I trust this mental vision of a place that does not exist more than I trust some people in my life.

The vision takes place in the sunset. Or perhaps it is the sunrise. It mostly depends on my current mood at the time. The sky is orange and purple, blending together like paint on a canvas. The sun is gentle - a source of light, and only barely a source of heat so that I am comfortable. Sometimes there are clouds; soft ones, fluffy ones that feel you up with warmth as you imagine snuggling with one of them in your bed.

I am always sitting under a large tree. My back is pressed against the trunk, snuggled in its curves and twists in a way that suits me best. There is a picnic blanket beneath me - a red and white checkered pattern that’s gentle on the eyes. A flask of hot chocolate stands pressed against my thigh, a welcome source of warmth and sweetness. There are no books with me - nothing you would take with you for entertainment.

I don’t really need them.

A few steps away from my picnic blanket, the flower field starts. Sometimes they are sunflowers - bright and cheery, reaching up tall towards the sun. Sometimes they are simply flowers - colourful, vibrant, healthy, magical. The field follows the decline of the hill, and up the next one until there is nothing but bumps of flowers as far as the eye can see. 

There is no sign of human life, here. There is no one except for me. I can lean my head against the trunk of the tree and close my eyes - I can breathe in a deep breath and know that I am safe, in this place.

If I were to tilt my head back far enough and peer through the leaves of the trees, I can see the stars above my head. Glorious against a backdrop of purple and dark blue - of black, at times, at some spots. They twinkle down at me as they retreat away from the sun and sometimes I wave them goodbye - or hello.

I don’t know if such a place exists in reality. I only know that it exists in my reality - and my reality is, at times, all I really need.

chad

PLS HELP

IM GONNAN CRY THIS IS SO FUCKIBG FUNNY TO ME

Reblog if you actually give a shit about anyone who’s suicidal or depressed.

No one should scroll past this