Why The Hell Am I Getting So Much Phineas And Ferb Content On My Dash

i don't know who else knows this but for fellow Undertale players, if you play the Pacifist Route first and then the Genocide Route like I did, but you still want everyone to have a happy ending, here's what you do. (see under the cut)

when you're done with your Pacifist Route, copy your game files into a separate folder. they'll be used later.

when you're done with the Genocide Route, there will be a new file in there. right click on that file and go into properties. there should be a tab that lets you choose whether or not your computer "reads" that file. make sure that's disabled.

once you're sure the computer is not reading the corrupted file (you can tell by reopening the game if you still see Chara or not), delete your save files and replace them with the Pacifist Route files you saved earlier. once your reopen the game, Flowey should show up again asking what you're doing there since everyone already got their happy ending.

are we above consequences? no, but the happy little pixelated characters don't deserve to suffer from our hubris. (which i mean the bad route could've just been avoided but I needed to beat Sans at least once.)

Happy playing!

I know I said I would bake a fancy pie but life happened, and not in an entirely fun way

no one slaughter me right now ok I'm so flooded with stress hormones the meat would taste terrible

Reminder that spring will always come back, music will never stop being created, and there are still so many books left to read! You’re alive! You’re alive! You’re alive!

@lovesdaya

too many stories about turning yourself into a monster as a metaphor for pretending to be something you aren't and losing yourself in the process. not enough stories about turning yourself into a monster as a metaphor for choosing to openly embrace yourself even if it's strange to other people

growing up I was always afraid of being Found Out. not sure what I was hiding. just my whole self I guess

The futility of forcing oneself to appear as anything; the emptiness of seeming-to-be.

You need to practice. Living is a craft, so is love.

But you are on the verge of dangerously veiling everything. The problem is not the magic, it’s that you chose the dark kind. Veil this room in light, veil this room in wonder. Understand that life is rising and falling consistently. You desire creative ownership. But do the right thing. There are days in which I want to sleep through the day. I want to sleep through the day because I want to close, to close myself to the excruciating crushing of life. I want the drug of the dream, I want to float headless. I want to not be affected by blood, pain, bones, or gravity. A rainbowed mass of vision and no form. I want to be full of the beams of fantasy. Sometimes I am like that.

I want to be so full of life. I want it so much I don’t focus. I die among other things. White wine, joints, cigarettes, too many naps, reality television, the mixing of substance. I want to feed without having to feed on anything. I want to be full without having to move. My craving for that pure dark stillness. It is a blackness made only of a blinding brilliance. That stillness which is life in its most basic essence. It is like nothing on Earth. So far here I have only found glimpses.

The witch took her sharp green finger to the fabric of life.

She could not be sure of life.

— Her Green Pedicure, Cyber Diary

Breakfast. As sweet as you are ☕🧇

I just don’t get it. How can our society act so goddamned normal about seahorses. How can anybody so casually accept that that’s a fish???

This is one of nature’s most anatomically perverse of all beasts. A FISH, like a carp or a bass or a beta is a fish, but it bent its body straight up only to bend its head permanently back down. It stretched its skull into a pipe. It tapered its tail like a lizard, specifically like a chameleon. It can also move its eyes independently by the way, you know, like a chameleon. Fun fact, it can change color to express its mood, like you know whatever does that. It doesn’t properly swim anymore. It buzzes its few remaining fins like an insect’s wings to float itself around at a snail’s pace. It lives its whole life clinging to coral branches or seaweed, which means it decided to become a “tree dweller” in an environment where gravity didn’t even matter anyway. The males get pregnant. They make noises at each other by rubbing some of their neck bones together. Every day, EVERY DAY a mated pair does a little dance and a little neck bone song so they remember which two seahorses they were. They’re a beautiful precious obscenity. Nothing so adorable ever made such a strong case against a logical creator.

They have as little skin and meat as they could get away with. Their skeleton is almost all they are.