Procrastination Station:

Honestly all of my blogs are a conglomerate of hot mess express. This one is supposed to be for fandom and art tho…

[heckyeahponyscans]

I watched the live action version of "Can You Feel the Love Tonight" on Youtube and I was not ready for the utter lack of emotions from the CGI animals.

Nala looking concerned about Simba hiding something about his past, a comparison:

Also, in CGI this song called "Can You Feel the Love Tonight" does not take place at night.

[naamahdarling]

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

some people will be like “I wonder why fanfic writers don’t share their works anymore😔” and then this is them when a writer is kind enough to share something they write — as a hobby, for their own enjoyment — with them for free.

some people really don’t realize how privileged they are that they get fanfics for free. imagine having access to something for free because someone is kind enough to share it with you… and then being rude, entitled and an ungrateful pos to that person who was kind enough to share their creation with you for free

“almost 1 year is a lil too much for me” fuck off. fanfic writers don’t owe you anything. one of my favorite fics was updated after 13 years, and what I did is that I thanked the author for choosing to continue the work, I didn’t act like a spoiled toddler by asking why they didn’t update sooner. and even if a writer chooses to abandon their fic permanently with no explanation, that is their choice, their hobby, their decision. they don’t owe your entitled ass anything.

you people let tiktok rot your brains to the point you see everything as content farm and engagement. not a piece of art created by the artist’s love and passion. it’s dystopian.

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

[miraculart]

The Wandering Teller

A short story inspired by the folk tales of the world. Written by one who was touched on the tongue by the Wandering Teller.

I don't use AI, and don't condone the use of AI generative media. Human stories, human hands.

Hope you enjoy :)

---

He had not yet earned his title, but his family called him Small Bug. For many years he tilled the soils, sowed the crops, watered and cared for the land. His mistakes were many at first, though fewer with time. Fewer with practice.

He's not taken well to the hunting. His loud footsteps would spook the prey, though perhaps he was okay with that. He appreciated a meal with meat, and warm furs in the cold months, but the look of fear in the eyes of the hunted was far too familiar. It tugged deeply on his heart, and weighed heavy on his conscience. Better left to those who do it well, he thought, like sister.

His mouth was plagued by a terrible burn, that never seemed to ease. With each word spoken the burn subsided in the day, but each night it would return, an itch, then a blaze. No water or fruit could quell it.

Small Bug took his time in the fields. He didn't mind the sun on his back, the air was hardly still and carried his breath on the wind. There was beauty in the movement of the grasses. Like a dance only performed once, a fleeting, cherished moment.

In the midst of the dancing stalks, a strange stillness rested. Not wrong, but out of place. He approached with care, caution without fear, to the place that seemed so still, to find an elder curled in rest.

"Excuse me, elder. Are you lost? Need you food or a place to rest?" He called. But there was no answer from the elder.

He moved closer, sitting by the elder's feet. A good look now, they wore a cloak of torn cloth, mended many times over. Their feet bare to the ground with cracks and calluses of the many steps taken. Their hair kept well, if dusty from a journey long.

"I am Small Bug, son of these fields which I tend. Who might you be?" He spoke softly, as honey is more tempting than bile to bite.

"I am the one who follows the winds. I am the one who walks many steps in the footprints of those who came before, and those who will come after. I am the one who learns. They call me The Wandering Fool." The voice from the elders throat was neither cracked nor soft. They spoke with the calm of age and the playfulness of youth. They turned their clouded eyes to Small Bug's face, with an expression of peace and anguish all at once.

"Elder Fool, you must have many tales to tell. Join me for a meal so we might talk." The offer came forth with ease. A stranger is always welcome to a meal.

The elder sighed, breath heaving through a chest wide but thin as a rail. "Boy, I've no use for a meal. I've no stories to tell to impart you with wisdom in return. Let me rest my bones here and be on my way."

"Then you shall not mind if I rest with you." A smile grown across his cheeks, Small Bug took his pouch from his waist for a sip of water, still no call to fire on his tongue, and offered it to the elder.

The elder took the pouch, and allowed the cool water to flow down their hands. "Why would you do that? Cried Small Bug, in disbelief of the elder's actions.

"My hands felt hot, and the water will cool them." Spoke the elder, calm and assured in their tone.

"How do you travel so far, when you cannot see, and do not accept help from those around you?" Small Bug asked incredulously.

"That is how I earned the name of Fool. Though I'm not sure I agree. My steps are guided by the earth beneath my feet. My path determined by winds that carry me. I shall eat when I am hungry, drink when I have thirst, and continue on my way."

"But why do you travel? Surely you have a place you call home, a place to stay?"

"Home is the place where the heart feels full. Where your legs stop moving and the restlessness fades. Home is where your feet carry you when you cannot bear to control them any longer. My heart is not yet full, my legs are not yet restful, my feet still wander far."

"You must get lonely, without a place to return to. You must go mad from the thoughts in your head and your voice alone."

"You did not leave me alone, nor do others. Nor the whispers of the winds in my ear or the caress of the sun on my skin. I am not lonely, I have the world. I have no home, but I feel at home when I wander."

They sat in the still space for some time. No need for many more words. Just the company of a fleeting moment. Small Bug's legs began to itch.

It was the next day the elder continued their travel, steps to the wind, encouraged my the breeze.

And Small Bug thought to himself how foolish the elder was. But some part of him could not forget the man's words.

Each night as the light faded and the time for rest arrived, his mouth burned, his legs itched. As the moon crested in the sky, shedding pale light and illuminating the fields in white like living snow, his feet ached for purchase on the ground.

Seasons passed and winds changed, but his legs would not calm, and his tongue would continue to burn. He remembered the old fool. He stepped out to the field, bare feet to the soft soil, the ache somewhat relieved.

His eyes closed and he let himself feel. He felt the breeze that pulled at his clothes. He felt the filled soft dirt under his feet. He felt his legs become restless, and stepped where they wanted. And again. And again. He stepped through the night, his eyes closed. He stepped through the morning to the heat of the day. He rested only for food, sleep, or water. He ate when he was hungry, he drank when he was thirsty, he slept when he was sleepy. And he wandered the rest of his days.

He never felt lonely, he met many travelers. He never felt sad. When he found himself thinking of his family, or his sister, he found himself wandering back to them.

Unlike the elder he met that day, Small Bug would let himself think. He collected the stories of all that he met and of the winds that tickled his ear while he walked.

When he burn was too hot and he needed to talk, he would stop and trade his tales. The fires would rest and his mouth found peace for a time before the itch would once again swell,

He became the Wandering Teller, and any who hear one of his tales would begin to feel an itch on their tongue. An itch on the tongue, a burn in the fingertips, only eased with a story.

[kit0ri]

[slowspinningredemption]

pretty sure i just lost my editing gig to ai. hate and fucking war on planet earth.

[slowspinningredemption]

like they've already made it very clear by a) ghosting me for months and b) getting my colleagues to train their stupid new ai. like i only know about this because one of my colleagues tipped me off. i imagine they're waiting to get it working before they formally let me go and fuck that. i am literally drafting my resignation lmao

[slowspinningredemption]

[slowspinningredemption]

guys. there has been an update. my spy colleague has informed me that my ex-boss is backtracking. the ai was supposed to speed things up because apparently i was unavailable too often but it turns out that another colleague has been lying about me telling him i was unavailable. i have email receipts proving this never happened.

this colleague also has beef with me because his documents were always garbage and i came back with a million corrections and called him out for mass copy-pasting. so he was just skipping the editing and saying i said i couldn't do it. and i lost my job because of it.

[slowspinningredemption]

ex-boss backtracked and ended up asking me if i'd come back not as a freelance contractor but on an actual employment basis.

[slowspinningredemption]

i declined.

[slowspinningredemption]

shoutout to all the people reblogging the version of this before my rejection letter. and especially shoutout to those people saying they're happy for me and that there's justice on this earth. i regret to inform you that my version of justice means choosing violence.

[dovewithscales]

This is a thing of beauty

[mildeleef]

These guys shouldve been fired like yesterdaay

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

[sarafroot]

✌️😗

[foxchlo]

Nimona looks Amazing in this, don't you agree!

[wayreyn]

trying different styles with caitlyn <3

might be cooking some shop update (˵ ¬ ؂ ¬˵)

[fluffehwuffeh]

Rumi swears they're both doing this on purpose 🫣 and it's... working?!

[troubledodyssey]

Hockey AU when??

Edit: I TOTALLY FORGOT TO CREDIT THE IDEA!! From twitter: see here

[toodrunktofindaurl]

KPDH x ATLA (for @/kentrix__ on twitter)

please support me on P@tre0n (it's 50% 🔞 content tho, just a heads up <3)

[yaketysmax]

Bobby as Uncle Iroh! Ignore my art crimes plz, see the VISION

[wary-taru]

Zoey and Mira's pov:

Still part of my bakery au 🍰, she has tattoos and piercings my little trans punk softie

My Kofi! :) comms open! ✨

[pigeon-princess]

Thaisha Lloy🌿✨ She's probably busy mastering the druidic arts but I'd love her to adopt me.

[salty-noob-deactivated20200310]

My favorite thing about being an archer in Skyrim is when the slow motion kill cam follows the arrow and you get to sit back and watch as it just absolutely misses the target.  

[cyberlesbiab-deactivated2021052]

[i-wear-the-cheese]

the great thing about this is that the computer has calculated that the arrow will strike the target as a critical hit, but then when the kill cam engages it changes the physics in game (I think having the arrow be the focal point rather than the player causes the formula to change) and in doing so, it can change the trajectory so dramatically that you miss. I once saved the game and tried the same shot multiple times with kill cam turned on and then off, which proved with perfect correlation that it was the camera itself that was messing up the shot