#generalcupcakery

[mr-reblogbutton-archived]

this boy is here and ready to tell you to chill. @generalcupcakery I know you were looking for this. It’s transparent too!

[borderlinetunes]

I suggest "Pretty Little Head" by Eliza Rickman. A beautiful song, neutral/FP feels all over the place. (makes references to death/what could be interpreted as references to self harm)

Queued, thank you!

[thethespacecoyote]

Traditions

[daxdraggon]

Happy birthday :D

THANK U!!!!!

[mr-reblogbutton-archived]

@generalcupcakery this is for your small victories. The birbs are proud of you.

[fauxtalian]

an art for the wonderful @generalcupcakery who is writing a lovely story about cute robots. This is her son, Kipper <3

[eldertwelvecupsofcoffee]

"You had like twelve cups of coffee."

Book of Mormon AU time! Featuring Cecil Palmer as Elder Price and Steve Carlsberg as Elder Cunningham (so they would be Elder Palmer and Elder Carlsberg, respectively).

:D

—

Cecil slammed his coffee cup down on the counter of the little stand’s counter. His hands were shaking uncontrollably, but he hardly seemed to notice.

“Hit me,” he said, then, when the poor woman working behind the counter hesitated, he snapped, “Gimme another one, COME ON!” The woman shook her head as she poured the deep brown liquid into Cecil’s coffee cup. He brought it to his lips and took a long swig, swallowing with an audible gulp.

“Elder Palmer?” came an all-too-familiar voice from behind him. “Are you all right?”

“Well, well,” Cecil said, turning around on his stool to face the other elder with a forced smile. “If it isn’t the super Mormon! Spreading ‘the word’? Making more brainwashed zombies?”

“Elder Palmer, what happened to you?” Steve asked.

Cecil paused for a split second. What had happened to him? He didn’t know. All he knew was that the rules that had been instilled in him for as long as he could remember- which, admittedly, was not very long- suddenly didn’t hold up to examination. And without those rules, nothing seemed to make sense.

“I woke up!” he decided. “That’s what happened!”

“Of course you woke up, you’ve had like twelve cups of coffee!” Steve replied, gesturing to the coffee cups that littered the counter and the dusty earth below it.

“You tell me, how is it, huh?” Cecil huffed. “How is it YOU converted all those people into Mormons?”

“I don’t know,” Steve shrugged. “Once I baptized Abracadabra, the others just sort of fell into place.”

“You get everything you pray for,” Cecil snapped, days of frustration bubbling to the surface. “You’re doing everything I was supposed to do! Doesn’t that seem a little telling to you?”

“Telling of what?” Steve asked, suddenly defensive.

“The universe doesn’t work the way we were told.” Cecil said miserably, turning back to nurse his coffee. “When I was nine years old, my family took a trip to Franchia. It was the most wonderful, most magical place I had ever been, and I thought to myself, 'THIS is where I want to spend eternity.’ My parents told me that if I made God proud and did whatever the church asked, in the Latter Days I could have anything I wanted. So I worked, and I WORKED, and even when I read Mormon stories and thought, 'You know, that doesn’t really make any sense!’ I kept working! Because I was told I would get my reward: Planet Franchia! But what do I have now? I can’t even get a ticket home.”

[cosleia]

"GOOD MORNING ASSHOLE EAT THIS ENTIRE FUCKING JUG OF NUTELLA" i still dissolve into hysterical snorting. I'm doing that right now.

<3