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wdym an average platonic bond cant be deep and meaningful do none of you remember the power of friendship

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💔🕸

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Reblog to open a rail line from your blog to the person you reblogged this from

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reblog to try reach as many non-Americans as possible

they're the majority demographic on this site so it's inevitable, but let's try get some balance

countries were included based on Commonwealth membership, and whether English is an official and/or predominant language according to Wikipedia.

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The thing about Cottagecore is that is a fetishized aesthetic of country life, divorced from labor and idealized by a primarily urban audience with a backward looking ethos of tradition. They are not prepared for the stresses of a rural life: farming; harvesting; tapping pumpkins to ensure none of them have been replaced with flesh; losing out on income by having to use one of your pigs in a blood sacrifice to paint protective sigils over your doors and windows; checking cracks and chimneys for the flesh-vines of the Pumpkin Lord; having to decide, before the Growth is complete, whether that's really your tradwife or an amassment of vines, leaves, and blood in the shape of your tradwife; ignoring their desperate pleas that "I'm me! No! No!" as you burn them alive, realizing too late you picked wrong; and the exploitative corporate nature of commercial farming in 2024. All seen through a deeply colonial lens, of course

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💣 No one knows where Damian’s nose came from. He has his father’s jaw. He has his mother’s cheekbones. His father’s eyes. His mother’s lips. But his nose.

It’s not aquiline or Roman. It doesn’t look the least bit distinguished. In fact, the tip of his nose curves up, in a bit of a snub.

No one knows where it came from, and although it does look slightly familiar, they gave up wondering when pressing matters took precedence.

Until one day Alfred was spring cleaning and set aside some pictures that really ought to go in frames. It was then that the prior familiarity was recognized.

Tilted nose, curved up at the tip, bit of a snub.

Damian has Martha’s nose.

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sometimes the moral of the story really is just "you cannot go back and what happened to you is going to be with you for the rest of your life. but it's still going to be okay" huh

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𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑢𝑎𝑔𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑓𝑙𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑠

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Never love an anchor by the crane wives is so abernant sisters coded

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tanja moss || fantasy high || fleabag || fantasy high || daniel f. gerhartz || joan tierney || catherine lacey || fantasy high || ania catherine || fantasy high || happyghostpotaato

the abernant sisters

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" - So what do you recommend to encourage affection...?

- Dancing.

Even if one's partner is barely tolerable."

:) 💙

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I'm looking to see how much influence "Twitter refugees" have actually had on the culture of this site.

**Pease reblog! I want to get the biggest and most varied sample I can!**

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“i love penelope, of course, but —”

“BUT DO YOU KNOW HER? SHE’S LOVELY AND INTELLIGENT AND HAS A FINE SENSE OF HUMOR. WHO WOULDN’T WANT TO MARRY A WOMAN LIKE THAT?”

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You've been driving for the last three hours.

It's fine. You're fine. Driver rotation. Your arms ache a little, awkwardly angled around the spherical dog settled in your lap to grasp the steering wheel. That's fine. It's fine. A little ache isn't so bad, you told yourself. Moggy's warm weight is a reassuring comfort, and there's not many free spaces an invisible creature can settle without fear of getting squished. And who could bear to disturb such a cute little monster?

Or that's what you told yourself three hours ago.

You shift your arms a little, hoping an adjustment in the angle might help. It doesn't. Your arms twinge. Moggy is just a little too warm in your lap. Sweaty. The little snores against your thigh started out as cute, but the short wet huffs of air on your leg have turned grating. You're so tense.

There's no time to stop for the night, to grab a decent meal, to even have a proper shower. Just gas station snacks and a quick prestidigitation clean up, wicking away dust and blood and acid and sweat and glass and the occasional stray tire mark. The magic leaves you feeling stale and vaguely gritty, but technically clean enough to survive the close quarters of travel.

Just a little ways more. Just a little more, and then you'll be home. There will be your bed, your books, your family. Your real family, with warm werewolf hugs and snide sisterly remarks (only half has biting as they used to be, with a sly laugh crinkling the edges like they're a joke you both share. And they are now. You really think they are.)

Just get home. And then- And then.

School, you guess.

Save the world. Get some rest. Wake up for school.

Your fingers tighten on the wheel. Did you do all the reading you'd meant to over the Summer? Of course you did, of course you did. You made sure to be ahead on all the upcoming classes, that way you have time to help the others. They need so much help. They're so good at so many things, but not at school. You're the one who's good at school, so it's your job to help them. That's what being a party means, right? Just like Captain Seacaster said. Looking out for each other.

You and Riz have a plan. (You think you do. You think your plan is a little different than his, but that's fine. Close enough in the long run. You've always prided yourself on being a little more realistic than the others, having a little more foresight. Maybe it comes with being the Oracle.) You have a plan. You saved the world, you did your reading, and then you and Riz are going to look at schools.

You did read ahead, right? You know you did. Of course you did.

But the start of Summer was so long ago now. You read it, but do you really remember it? You do. You're sure you do. Right? Fuck. Fuck, it's fine it's okay. You'll just grab a quick refresher at the next driver rotation. The books can't be too expensive, right? You can swipe a copy out of your jacket, then read while everyone else is asleep.

Saved the world. Refresh yourself on the curriculum. Look at schools with Riz. He's probably going to need a scholarship, if he really wants to pursue college. Will you need a scholarship? You need to talk to Jawbone when you get back. Maybe your mom wandered off to die in a ditch somewhere, and then you can get some of her money to cover expenses. You wish you'd been able to get a job this summer.

But no. You had to save the world. You're seventeen years old and you may be the Elvan Oracle but something in your gut tells you that there have to be other people who could be doing this. Adult adventures who could've handled this stuff. Is this really the most lucrative career path? You really don't see how, but there's a whole school dedicated to the "profession."

Focus. The dry guys podcast plays over the speakers, a little fizzy and garbled from how beat up the hangvan is. (A little hot water, Fig had said. You think mending might work better, but you don't know anything about cars so you bit your tongue. You can try that later.)

Focus. Focus.

Save the world. Refresh. Schools. Cast mending on the van. Fig and Kristen are gonna need help with school. Wait, should mending the van come earlier in the list? You could do some of that on the trip back. Before or after the refresh? Maybe if the van is working better, you could move faster, get home faster, see the manor and your tower and home home home.

Save the world. Mending. Refresh. Schools. Tutor. Fabian is crying at his reflection in the van window. Hell. Your fingers tighten on the wheel. Okay, this one is not your problem.

Save the world refresh schools mending tutor school talk to ayda read do oracle things hug Jawbone resummon Boggy study save the world again probably again and again and again and-

What's the point again?

Your dog is too warm on your lap. Your arms hurt. But. He's too cute to move. It's been three hours, but you've got a ways to go before home. You're seventeen. And then what? The sun hurts your eyes. Shows how grateful it is for being saved from eternal night.

You saved the world. Now back to school, you guess.

But now. Driving. You reach into the shopping bag wedged between the front two seats, pulling out a discolored pack of unidentifiable candy. There's a light thumping on the roof, probably Fig's boot bouncing rhythmically as she lounges on the top of the van. Gorgug is passed out in the shotgun seat, his cheek smooshed awkwardly into the window. His neck is going to be so sore later.

You saved the world. And now you

You keep going, you guess.

Woo. Junior year.

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Second this I can name them in order from my favourite to least favourite (nothing to do with actual players just literally what kind of character they're playing) but I'll stick with my top two of Riz holding top spot followed by Adaine

everyone’s on my recent poll being like ‘I can’t pick between them! it’s like picking a favourite kid!’ I can pick between them, maybe I’m built different

#dimension 20 #fantasy high #intrepid heroes #the bad kids #riz gukgak #adaine abernant #adaine o'shaughnessey #fantasy high junior year #dropout #college humor

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Here’s the new character art for Adaine Abernant in Fantasy High Junior Year, courtesy of @caitmayart

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