Me: *stubs My Toe Or Some Dumb Shit*

Listen, I’m only 6 episodes into the podcast, but you can’t tell me this isn’t just Welcome to Night Vale

They could all be guys too, of course, and it could even be something as simple as one is really tall and thin and one is really short and round and they are both into this guy in a suit who orders them to do crimes while he smokes his cigar, and they are both so madly in love with him that they do them, and they always fight with each other but it's actually them learning to work together and it is from that cooperation that they learn that it can work between the three of them, and the cigar guy was actually doing the crimes to teach them that they both loved each other, but now he also knows they both love him and he can't give up the act now, he has to live the lie

m/m/f has had had too much of a stranglehold on the polybait industry. we have to evolve. we have to flip the scripts. we need two girls who are ostensibly both in love with the same dude but have an incredibly charged and potent interpersonal dynamic with each other that is equally as weighty as the romance it is supposedly being presented in opposition to. we need a girl protagonist who has a canonical love interest but is also overwhelmingly and undeniably in love with her same gendered best friend that the source material desperately tries to no homo. of course it goes without saying that they could just all be girls too and that's also fine. we have options, is what i'm saying.

patricia lockwood has officially completed 6 years of her full 1000 year sentence

oh noooo i slipped on a banana and this url fell out oh nooooooooooo

“sorry i can’t come out, i have plans”

the plans:

halloween isat

After shoving Hansel in the oven, the witch turns to Gretel - who is currently fending the witch off with a gingerbread chair - and says:

“I can’t believe you thought a trail of breadcrumbs would save you. I mean, honestly, this is a forest! It’s full of animals. Honestly, the very idea that a dumb shit like you thought you could get the better of me is absurd.”

Gretel hits her in the face with said chair. To be fair to the witch, she takes the chairshot like a champ.

“Ow!”

“Did you know,” says Gretel, “that crows are capable of facial recognition?”

“Eh?” Says the witch, clambering to her feet and pulling a candy cane sledgehammer off the wall. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Not only that,” Gretel continues, “but they can remember both friends and enemies. And they’ll often follow people they remember as friends.”

The two fence with their sugared weapons for a moment, before the witch knocks the chair out of Gretel’s hands.

“Enough with the bird facts! Honestly, this whole attempted escape has been utter clownshoes. Get in the fucking oven!”

She seizes Gretel by the collar. Gretel immediately sandbags, letting her whole body go limp. This eminently practical defense forces the witch to try and deadlift her. Which is hard, as the witch often skips leg day.

“For example,” Gretel says, as the witch struggles and grunts, “if you feed crows a lot of breadcrumbs, they’ll probably start to see you as a friend and follow you in the hope of more food.”

The witch stops. Outside, she hears the thunder of wings.

“They’ll even bring you shiny things they find as presents!” Says Gretel, as a corner of the gingerbread ceiling is suddenly cut away by a large crow with a knife in its mouth.

“Oh shitballs.” Says the witch, as the crows descend. “I hope you know this is a great unkindness.”

“Technically,” Says Gretel, “It’s a murder.”

fireflies lighting up a rural Pennsylvania field at dusk