Enough Chit Chat. Whats Everyones Favorite Dinosaur

mango comes home from work to find her husband gone shes like oh no where did my man go

it’s not really a kraken game if john and edzo haven’t had at least one ridiculous side conversation in the first 5 minutes lmfao

The Reapers Song by HybridDH

Art by ghost_entity

https://x.com/ghosty_entity?s=21

In shadows deep, she walks alone,

A quiet girl with none to own,

A scythe she holds, both sharp and grand,

But gentle is her guiding hand.

Not one for words, she lets things be,

Her eyes speak more than we can see.

No need for crowds, nor praise to claim,

The unknown world is hers to tame.

Beneath the hood, her hair does fall,

She listens close to death’s own call,

Not shy, not fearful of her role,

She guards the passage of the soul.

She steps with grace, her robe so long,

But there’s a sweetness in her song,

The quiet hum that none can hear,

But comforts those who wait in fear.

She doesn’t boast, she doesn’t cry,

She simply lets the moments fly.

Her touch, though cold, is soft and kind,

She brings peace to the troubled mind.

The scythe she wields might seem so grim,

But she’s the one who helps them swim

Through waters dark and shores unknown,

Guiding the lost ones safely home.

And though her job may seem so bleak,

Her heart’s a place where love does speak.

In every soul she helps to go,

She plants a seed for hope to grow.

She loves the quiet, loves the night,

Not one for fame or spotlight bright,

Her cloak’s a comfort, like a friend,

A hidden place until the end.

For in her silence, she has found

A way to help without a sound.

She smiles a smile no one can see,

But in her soul, she’s truly free.

She watches life, she watches death,

Yet feels no sadness, no regret,

For in the end, she knows the truth—

There’s beauty even in lost youth.

So off she goes, with steps so light,

A reaper girl within the night,

Her heart aglow with love so pure,

For every soul, she finds the cure.

In every end, there’s a new start,

A gentle hand, a loving heart,

For though she’s grim, she’s never cold,

She brings new stories to unfold.

guys never date a musician she won't stop writing songs about me

all purpose greek seasoning in olive oil is genuinely curing my ed rn

there is too much music i need to listen to. i cannot bear it. there are so many albums and every time i find an album there is another album and then another album and then a bunch of singles and then another reddit post titled "greatest punk album of the year?" and suddenly it has 326 comments naming a bunch of punk albums i need to listen to, and of course all the comments say completely different bands, and so now i go listen to one of the albums and suddenly im going down a rabbit hole of their glorious music and i simply do not have the time to go listen to all the other 325 albums from that reddit post, and much less time to go scavenge the internet archive for 60s garage bands but if i do not find a way to listen to every single music in the world i will cry. life is hard man

do you think if yuri was trans he would change his name to yaoi

~Lovely~

(a poem)

the glory of the morning, to lay flowers across her arms my fingers absentmindedly drumming a soft melody on her shoulder the timing correlates with the swooning beat of my mortal heart, the one which i gifted to her long ago she has mine, and in turn i am lucky enough to have hers she is mine, she is lovely, how i love her i rise to stand and observe my work azaleas trace the side of her frame reaching once again to the wicker basket, i carefully surround her face with cosmos weaving gardenias and jasmine through the tourmaline umber of her hair resisting the urge to comb my hand through, lest i disturb her rest a bolt of raw affection surges through me; lowering myself onto my knees, i press a kiss to her hand she is lovely, how i love her a yellow daffodil is soon tucked behind her left ear, with a pink one mirroring behind her right the enamored sigh that escapes me is one the world has heard thousands of times, but this wont be the last instance in which it occurs interlocking her hand in mine, i place seven violets above her heart her eyes flutter open, content but curious, and i bring my lips to hers how i love her oh, how i love her so

what i want when i say i want walkable cities