Controversial opinion, but the best character in Goncharov is the unnamed baker who allows Andrey to hide in the backroom of his bakery just because he smiles at him. Firstly: relatable. Secondly: without him the entire plot falls apart. He deserved a name. He deserved to live, and I will never forgive Sofia for how she did him dirty. Justice for the Neapolitan baker!
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okay look. i can get being a little mad at Aziraphale because we have to be mad at someone, right (though I recommend redirecting said anger to our bestie Neil Gaiman)? But please don’t suggest that he just left for a promotion. That he went ‘Heaven is good, peace out Crowley.’ The only thing I will accept annoyance towards Aziraphale for is because of him saying “you’re the bad guys” instead of “they’re the bad guys.” Because… fair. What the fuck, Aziraphale.
However, the whole leaving Crowley thing wasn’t because he wanted to. It was because of this.
You see Aziraphale’s eyes? That’s what panic looks like. What fear for the love of his life looks like. The point of saying that wasn’t ’hey you can make Crowley an angel again’ it was ‘come quietly or we’ll erase your boyfriend and take you anyway.’ Or ‘we’ll erase both of you,’ either way not exactly appealing options. Aziraphale left to save Crowley. Not because of some misguided belief that Heaven Is Good, not because of a promotion.
to shades of gray, everybody.
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I’d love to be added to the slenderverse @realest-slenderman @sapphicslender @divorced-slenderman @slender-bureaucracy and to all the slenderheads, please sign this prenup, I swear we won’t divorce this time. I own eight castles …don’t ask where I got the money
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quick! don’t imagine steve saying a quiet “hey, eddie..” to himself/last words as he dies protecting dustin/robin/the party in s5.
they win, but lose steve but it’s okay because “i did what i was supposed to, protecting you little shits till the end. i told you, i’m a damn good babysitter.”
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don't you think drawing things in your sketches that don't happen in the entries is a bit misleading?
Uhhh....no? Because these are just little daily sketches I have to fit around my other bits of work? And I'm not the only artist participating this year?
I apologise to anyone who mistakenly thought I was the arbiter of Dracula?
Do you want to know how many sketches are required for September ALONE? 37. Thirty-seven individual drawings. Forgive me if I wanted to add Quincey to a group shot.
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no one ever ask me to write smut bc it takes 4k words of foreplay that isn't even foreplay it's me just teasing you with context and a would-be au before i inevitably disappoint you with the climax 👍
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I kind of hate being a Stereotypical Autistic Person, but it's not my fault, it's just who I am.
I feel like a caricature from a sitcom-- "I'm autistic, my parents got me tested after I tried to memorize an entire tv show and recite it." I alternate my text as I type, and I write my meticulously-planned, 60-plus-character-novel in comic freaking sans. I pronounce things weird as vocal stims, (seriously? Lemned Demoned? What am I, a child?) and I move erratically, oftentimes to my humiliation, since I cannot control my body.
I wear over-ear headphones because I can't think if I hear too much noise. I'm verbalflux, which means I go from yammering my mouth off to hardly being able to formulate a sentence. I communicate via doodles and communication cards.
I really like listening to halloween music and memorize everything about my hyperfixations. I love dying my hair but I hate the way it feels. My sensory needs control my daily life-- I can't wash dishes if the sponge is too wet!
I'm gender non conforming because I don't understand the concept of gender-based societal roles. I also have OCD, and that means people act like I'm either "just picky" or "legitimately going to hurt someone as a tic."
I cry a lot. I'm hyper-empathetic. I have a lot of vocal tics I can't control-- you know my signoff? That's something I do uncontrollably.
I'm torn between loving myself as I am, and being cringe, and hating myself for even existing, because I feel like a hollow stereotype. I can't sit still in churches or temples, so organized religion is a nope, but I feel like I am physically tethered to something greater than myself. I am the stars. I am nobody.
If I could be neurotypical for one day, I would see a concert, because I can't see concerts. They're too loud.
I don't know, I suppose I'm venting.
I'm not unhappy, or happy. I'm just me.
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sorry to talk about supernatural on main but this. it's a fucking edward hopper painting. what the hell.
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