@mallowpumpkin - Tumblr Blog

Continuation of This. Muscle memory kicked in before his actual memories did.

Have you all considered the implications of Ingo remembering everything while still in Hisui, alone, unable to return, and suddenly realizing he left behind his brother and friends without any warning? Sad boy hours.

(sad) bonus:

metamatronic

Part 2

I had to put down my BDSP nuzlocke because i discovered lore in the canalave library and had to draw what is my now my new theory. More info below, but TLDR is making eye contact with Uxie wipes your memory apparently. see below:

boomer-mythology-destroyer

red3blog

I recently saw a post on Nextdoor where they complained that Animal Control wouldn’t come out and deal with some ducks they saw in a pond.

Like, that’s where ducks go. That is duck home. This is where they are supposed to be. Call Animal Control if the duck is in your living room. Not when you are in the duck’s living room.

haco11

victorias-electric-coffin

After Märchen Chapter 2

Welcome back, all!

We come to you with the next chapter of Tajima Ikuno’s latest series, After Märchen.

In Chapter 2, we meet more familiar faces from Brothers Grimm fairy tales. Can you guess which one we’ll meet this week? 👠

(Also available to read on our MangaDex!)

Keep reading

#After Märchen #after marchen #after meruhen #tajima ikuno #ikuno tajima

everybody-loves-to-eat

#ranch

victorias-electric-coffin

After Märchen Chapter 1

Hello, everyone!

A new series by Tajima Ikuno, After Märchen, began publishing on the website Matogrosso a couple of months ago. We’re happy to finally bring the first chapter to you!

The story begins with a pair of brothers - Jacob and Wilhelm - who work as garbage collectors in a fairy tale land. Their job is to retrieve magical artifacts that have since served their purpose - or, to be blunt, worthless junk.

Who will be their client today…? Read on to find out!

(Also available on our MangaDex!)

Keep reading

#After Märchen

mille-marteaux

ordered pizza from a small local place and they didnt actually cut it so i've chosen to revert to a wild animal and begin ripping it apart instead of just using a knife to portion slices

mille-marteaux

absolutely visceral experience. food is so much more satisfying when you have to fight it. i may be feral

mille-marteaux

i am not proud to say this but that pizza lasted fifteen minutes. i normally am not that gluttonous, but this goes beyond glutton. there was gluttony and wrath. a whirlwind of sauce, cheese, and pepperoni, all atop a flatbread that was shred apart by my own hands due to the neglect of another

in that moment i was wild. i was free. i understood the simplest joys in life. the joy of eating and manifesting my own destiny

mille-marteaux

been reflecting on this all day and the unsliced pizza experience honestly ruled. i think everyone should try it sometime or another. you have not truly lived until you just absolutely obliterated a pizza in such a feral manner

shayminsh

is this you

mille-marteaux

yes

run

mortalmab

My best friend and I have this tradition we call “chicken dinner” where we get a rotisserie chicken, lay it on a tarp, start on opposite ends of the tarp, and on the count of three we both run at the chicken and start ripping into it with our bear hands. We will be on our knees fighting for the best pieces of meat, ripping into the chicken with our faces, and it is the most viscerally delicious chicken I have ever had in my life. Grease gets everywhere. We have to do this outside. We have to tie our hair in buns beforehand.

You have never known the joy of food until you are lunging at your friend to rip the best part of the chicken out of their hand, rolling around on the tarp, stuffing it in your face before they can retaliate, and you realize “holy shit did I just growl?” And then you realize they are doing it too.

The chicken gets decimated. It’s absolutely destroyed. We aren’t allowed back inside until we have been hosed down. It’s the best.

gallusrostromegalus

This feels like the Yang to the Yin of the Shower Beverage, where in a peak of Unhinged civilized decadence, you experience the full flavor profile of a beverage whilst in the midst of a Hot Shower. Similarly carnal in it's satisfaction, and worrisome when to your mom when she asks you what you did this weekend, and you explain. At Length.

victorias-electric-coffin

Trade Between Factions

The Girls-only Corpse Bride Faction 👰🌼 and The Fated Electric Coffin Faction ⚰️💔

#vec #victoria's electric coffin #victoria no denki hitsugi

tinktoks

theapplepielifestyle

#this is what it’s like trying to write fic for us-based fandoms#‘Is that a movie trope or do people actually do that?’ - via ellynneversweet

elodieunderglass

Dialect differences of interest:

“In hospital” -> Americans say “in the hospital.”

“Motorway” -> highway.

“Crisps” —> “chips” but he knew that haha a lot of this is jokes

“Shite” -> “shit” but I think he knew that, this is clearly jokes

But most tellingly there’s an interesting one:

“Slippy” (“the road was slippy”)

British, Irish, and Australian people have a part of the dialect where describing something, and they make it “verb-y”. Examples are “squirty cream” (aerosol whipped cream), or “wheelie bin” (the big trash can with wheels that you park outside). A viral picture of a door with a sign: “Caution: door is slammy.” Filtered honey that stays stable at room temp is “runny honey.” “Slippy” comes in quite naturally before “slippery.” However, most of the time it’s spontaneous: you apply the verb instantly in the situation and are understood even if it isn’t part of the normal lexicon. Doors are not commonly labelled “slammy” but everyone gets it.

It is only something you really notice when part of the dialect and I don’t really know what it’s called - I’m not a linguist - but it would be called something like “compulsive verb dimunitizing” or something. And Americans don’t do it. An American in this conversation might say “the road was icy/slippery”, but would be more likely to describe the situation: “he went into black ice!” “He took a pothole at 80!”

To Americans, “the road was slippy” in a conversation like this sounds borderline deranged and slightly disrespectful - absolute baby talk, like saying “the road was slippy-wippy and Chad got very silly! Now he’s deady-weady!”

Being American but also raised by gnomes, I personally love it. Let’s make verbs diminutive and use them as adjectives! Yeah! Let’s be little freaks!

Anyway, it’s that kind of thing that gets ya in dialects, and then people GET YOUR ASS

angrylittlesliceofpizza

… and this is part of why even though i’m pretty good at internetting in english, I won’t even TRY to write “serious” fiction in it. nope. not a chance. never gonna work.

elodieunderglass

No no no you SHOULD because

A) language evolves but mostly

B) people love this shit. They go AHOOHOOHOOHOO THAT IS SOMETHING DIFFERENT EH?? AHOHOHO MY DIALECT IS VERY INTERESTING ACTUALLY; And half the time they offer to correct it for you. They love doing this. Do it.

Someone has to leave first. This is a very old story. There is no other version of this story.

Someone has to leave first. Eins knows this; he's known it his whole life. It's an old story, far older than him or any of the people around him. There is no other version.

Someone has to leave. Someone has to be left behind.

It's just unfortunate he's the one being left again.

It started with his parents, if they could be called such, and continued with the nuns at the orphanage. It trickled into the games with the children in the neighborhood, to the paper route with the older boys, to trying to catch the last bit of bread before the baker tossed it.

But the worst had been Justine.

Sweet, kind Justine, who'd loved him as though he was her own blood. Who'd loved him and left him to struggle on alone.

Eins knew, he did, that it had been beyond his ability to keep her. To make her stay with him would only have made her sad.

He knows that she didn't leave him because she wanted to. She would have stayed until every last star died before she hurt him. But watching her flicker and burn out slowly had been too much, and the blood made a constellation as he was left again.

The headstones here are weathered, weeds creeping over the inscriptions before he leans down to pull them off. It's been a while since he was here last; there's a curl of guilt in his chest that steals the breath from his lungs as he thinks of why it's been so long.

He leaves the flowers in holders, heads to the next destination on his dwindling list with a heavy heart. He recognizes the dark blonde curls before she turns to hand him the bouquet, and the crinkles at the corners of her eyes as she smiles up at him wrench his heart.

Someone has to leave first. Someone must stay behind to be left.

Eins settles himself beneath the old maple, ignoring the bench they'd had put here years ago. He pulls the bouquet to pieces as he talks, gently threading stems together until he has two neat flower crowns.

He lays one on the head of the white marble angel, runs his fingers down her cheek before he sets the other on his head, closing his eyes as he slides up the plate on the back of his neck. He'd promised he'd watch over her for as long as he could, but he was lonely.

Vittoria and Ainsley find him in the morning, the rising sun making his skin look flushed, makes the dew drops on the flowers in his hair look like glittering stars. He looks peaceful, as serene as the angel beside him, and they both let out quiet sighs as they take his hands.

He's laid six feet down, hands folded over each other, the shine of the ring on his hand bright before the lid closes. Ainsley fusses as they work on the inscription, Vittoria never breaks her stare as they install the new statue. They stand, side by side, as its finished.

Vittoria takes her sister's hand and pulls her back towards the house, glancing back once before they step through the door at the second angel now kneeling at the grave. It looks right, suddenly, as if it was always supposed to be there.

Eins may have left them behind, but he hadn't left them alone. He'd made sure they were set before he took those final steps into the after. He'd struggled so much when they'd laid Victoria to rest, and all these years, he'd watched over her unfailingly.

"You took an awfully long time, Eins."

"Well, they're as bad as you were about laundry and cups of coffee, doctor. Couldn't leave them to be how I'd found you."

"We should be going."

"Thank you, for waiting."

"Always. And Eins."

"Yeah, doctor?"

"Your hands are as cold as ever."

#vec #eins #writing

#vec #victoria's electric coffin #eins #this boy has so much love

tanosan96

Starry Night with the angel

Guess who fell into the Supernatural hell (hint: it’s me)

tanosan96

Starry Night with the angel

Guess who fell into the Supernatural hell (hint: it’s me)

funnytwittertweets

#mary shelly took monsters and murder over a man #goals

kaity--did

Listen to me. Listen to me. Listen to me. Listen to me.

I know there is a lot of discourse (tm) around this right now but listen to me

sometimes you do just have to lie to children.

kaity--did

If, when my toddler is, you know, toddling around saying “mama? Big ball?”

If I were lean down and say “unfortunately the big beach ball for some reason fills you with such an unadulterated rage that is beyond human comprehension that you scream until you pass out, so mama had to remove the beach ball from the premises until you can better regulate your emotions” she would simply stare at me like I had 3 heads full of equal betrayal.

So, for now, instead “big ball went night night!”

kaity--did

Please understand when I say “removed the ball from the premises” I mean I popped it in a fit of exhausted confusion. I murdered the beach ball.

See I’ve lied to you all too and it was better this way.