#I just need to get it out

[mrburnsnuclearpussy]

An embarrassing Downton doodle dump ❤️

#here lol #ok to rb tho! :) #i just need to get it out #some are genuine attempts and others are just like crappy doodles lol #Downton abbey #Louis art #sketches #doodles #doodle dump #sketch dump #robert crawley #cora crawley #Charles carson #Elsie hughes #thomas barrow #daisy mason #beryl patmore #anna bates #john bates #violet crawley #joseph molesley #mary crawley #animal au #anthro #can you see I can’t decide whether carson is a badger or a dog lol #Thomas is a crow 🚬

[middleofnothing]

I feel like complete shit for the last few days. I'm on vacation and all I do is just sleep and it's not getting any better. I don't use social media just to avoid upsetting myself even more, because I have zero productivity. So many of my WIPs remain unfinished and I have no energy doing anything.

The more I scroll down my dash, the more I realize that what I would like to do has already been done before. Like… in 2018? WHAT? But I haven't even seen this art before! How is that even possible?!

Yeah, it's so hard to stay original after almost 5 years since the game was released, I know. And even though I honestly don't want to steal other people's ideas, I found myself repeating after someone else's work in one way or another without even knowing it. Or is that how the fanon works? Or am I just being too hard on myself?

I think, I have an artist's block here. I open DAZ, trying to do something and then I closing it. It all seems so… pointless.

update:

omg, guys… @thirium-800, @leelany-world, @spensual, @howtodisassembleyourdeviant, @detroitbecomeonline, @iwonderwh0, @bittermouse, @winter-seabass

I really didn't expect that and I don't even know how to thank you all for your support! 💙 each of your comments really touched me and I needed time to pull myself together. sorry for being a drama queen, I'm just really tired.

#don't mind me. I'll delete it later #I just need to get it out

[good-oldfashioned-lover]

Rant ahead!

Tw: burn out, anxiety, mentions of unalive and sh

Anyone else ever feel so tired of just... being tired? Like ik it doesn't make sense. But the day literally hasn't even started for me yet and I'm so fucking done. No amount of sleep or rest or breaks from studies is helping me. I just feel like screaming and punching something. Literally everything every. Single. Thing. Is pissing me off and I just want to quit. I can't do this anymore. Fuck everything. I am so done. I can't even let myself be carried away in music and stories anymore. Nothing helps. And I really really just want to give up on life itself but you know what fucking hilarious? The fact that I am such a coward to not even be able to THINK about unaliving myself because of how many people I'll hurt if I did that. And i just want to feel something. Anything. And its getting so hard to not just go looking for a pencil sharpener or somn around my house. And the truth is? I can't even anymore. I'm so tired. And it's getting so hard to see anything past all of this and I can't bring myself to care about anything or anything and it'd all slowly fading away right before my eyes. And it's like I'm floating in this bottomless ocean, except I'm not getting yanked but instead slowly getting pulled and I can't help but slowly give into it as the water fills me all around inside and out. Regulus Black core indeed. I just. Idek anymore. Fuck this shit

#rant post #please ignore this #i just need to get it out #And i already know that if i just saved it in my drafts my brain wont let me be either #so yeahh... #sorry guys #i'll be fine #will probably delete lol

[vielle-art]

I just wish I knew how to feel like enough, like I wasn't losing myself all the time. I wish I knew how to feel like enough and love myself to make up for all the years I spent grovelling and trying so hard to be enough.. but nothing fills the holes in my chest.

there's no real point to posting, in the grand scheme.. I just have nowhere else to post and I need to know that someone, anyone, sees that I'm stuck in an endless war against myself. Even if no one can fix it, I just need to post it, because what happens when I can't find the will to try anymore?

#textposting #i just need to get it out #idk #im just so tired #losing myself to my mental health #losing myself to my rotten brain #losing myself all the time. #things were supposed to be better but they arent getting better

[monochromatictoad]

So I ordered a custom Comfort Character back in August. It was supposed to be like a really late birthday gift for myself, and it was supposed to come in around the 13-20 of September. It's currently October 15 where I live, so it's already been a month since I was supposed to receive it. Now, I did message the seller and apparently they had a family emergency, so of course they need to put their needs first. But.... It's been literally over a week since I last messaged them and I still haven't seen hide nor hair of my package. But, I don't want to be a jerk and message them again about it. I'm stressed over this, and I feel bad being stressed over this because it's technically just a keychain, but I was looking forward to it. Especially after seeing the reviews on it. I guess I'll wait one more week before contacting the seller again.

#toadvent #im sorry im stressed #i just need to get it out #cause i know if i try to vent this to my family they'll mock me for it. #i feel like a jerk #but i want my package.

[deathbind]

BG3 STORYLINE.

This post outlines Serot's specific story / quest line throughout BG3. I approach writing him as a person with agency, so I'll have a default outcome for each stage of this. However, this can all be influenced by other party members. If you ever want to discuss alternatives to what's presented here, I'm all ears! It might be helpful to reference this post.

ACT ONE.

Serot is reborn about two years prior to the story's start. He remembers much about Meket and the Anactaci. He remember his name and approximate origin. He remembers many things — just not who exactly he is. Or how he ended up in Faerûn. He is traveling in search of answers when he is abducted and infected with a mindflayer tadpole.

Although hardly fortunate, the tadpole at least has the positive side effect of pinging the bond with Refhremmit Serot does not recall he has. The spirit pulls on their bond, attempting to contact him, and memories are dredged up in the process. They are garbled and unpredictable, however. They come from multiple lifetimes, triggered seemingly without pattern, and are thus difficult to piece into a coherent identity. More than once, he is plunged into a flashback with such ferocity that anyone with a tadpole in the immediate vicinity must succeed a wisdom check or be dragged in as well, experiencing the memory as if it is theirs. Consequently, he is honest with the party about his memory loss, although he may keep his doubts and fears about the situation private.

INTERLUDE.

His memories don't truly come into clarity until an encounter with the sussur blooms in the Underdark. He is immediately brought to his knees with the onslaught of memory. He remains unresponsive throughout the fight with Filro and the hook horrors and has to be carried away afterward. The episode is entirely self-contained, however. Party members may choose to connect with him via tadpole, but they are in no danger of being dragged in.

Any who choose to connect with him via tadpole will witness the memories of his life as Neheb and Serot (before being reborn). Neheb was a young Meketi prince caught in the middle of dire political machinations. He was sacrificed to seal the Cities of Eternity during the Spellplague, coming full circle with the first lifetime as Serot. And Serot, before being reborn, was an orphan who rose to end the Beetle Death, found the Anactaci, and become one of Meket's greatest icons and one of Soshisms greatest saints. There are flashes of a few other lifetimes after Neheb. Each ended quickly and in tragedy.

With Serot's lives pulled into clarity, he has not only recovered his identity but the ability to clearly communicate with Refhremmit. The details still need time to settle but great progress has been made. He keeps nothing secret from the party, regardless of whether they witnessed his memories, as this has had a direct impact on their safety during the fight against Filro

ACT TWO.

No one enjoys the Shadow-Cursed Lands, but Serot proves particularly susceptible. Drawing directly on the Plane of Death all his life has made him especially, almost exclusively, attuned to it. Part of that very plane went into the creation of the Shadowfell, and the shadow curse itself has a strong necromantic bend. His health visibly dwindles the longer they remain, and he experiences worsening migraines and lethargy.

As if it wasn't enough that the entire region is every nightmare of his packaged together, he is contending with the revelations of his past and the concerning news Refhremmit has shared. Something went wrong after Neheb's sacrifice. Each subsequent lifetime was marked for misery in a way Refhremmit could neither account for nor counter. Finally, they exerted their power to have Serot reborn rather than reincarnated, hoping that would reset the cycle and clear the problem. Yet, that went awry as well. Serot was reborn on Faerûn without his memories, and Refhremmit struggled to follow their bond. Something else has a hold on Serot. They don't know what.

This question is soon answered, however. The combination of Serot's memories resurfacing and the Shadow-Cursed Lands being so steeped in death makes it possible for Meresankh to reach out as well. They should have died nearly 2,000 years ago but were instead trapped in the Plane of Death, fundamentally altered. They remember nothing of their life save Serot's face and his attempt to save them at the cost of himself. Initially, they are only a voice calling out to him in restful hours, but as he chooses to focus on the voice, it becomes clearer. They beg Serot to save them, free them, bring them home.

This Serot keeps from the party. It is a deeply personal, painful matter. Party members may press the issue, but it's not information he volunteers otherwise. Their greatest indication something more is afoot would be a letter Serot takes from Balthazar's quarters. It hints that a Mystic Carrion in Baldur's Gate may be connected to a mysterious Meresankh. (Any party members who looked into his memories after the sussur blooms will recognize this name.) The letter is vague on details and seems inconsequential. Except Serot is oddly fixated on it.

ACT THREE.

Although they have many pressing matters to attend in Baldur's Gate, Serot is so eager to seek out Mystic Carrion he is liable to head out on his own. That soon turns to horror and rage when he discovers Carrion is a mummy lord operating in the most deplorable manner. Serot is torn between investigating the possible link between him and Meresankh and simply obliterating him. That a mummy lord's organs must be destroyed before facing him forces Serot to slow down.

This leads him to seek out Thrumbo as Carrion requested — though Serot has every intention of aiding his servants, not him. Thrumbo tells him Carrion spoke of a Meresankh at times, though he couldn't tell whether he felt fear or reverence toward them. Perhaps both. He will also note Carrion had some trinket connected to them that seemed important, but he doesn't more about it. Serot, of course, vows to destroy Carrion and free Thrumbo along with his friends.

When Serot confronts Carrion, he will attempt to avoid a fight. He presents an item brimming with necromantic energy. It's an agate cameo set in gold, perfectly matching the one Serot carries. The difference is the face is not scratched, and the likeness shown is his own. It was part of a matching pair, this one carried by Meresankh. Serot had thought it destroyed after their falling out. He did not expect they would continue to carry it or that it would become their only tie to life and identity in the Plane of Death.

Carrion invokes Serot's bond with Meresankh. He claims he is their loyal acolyte, devoted to freeing them. They should be working together, not fighting. Serot, by default, nevertheless attacks Carrion. He cannot abide the mummy lord's methods. He is sloppy in the fight, however, thrown off by this revelation.

Once the cameo is in his possession, he has three options. 1. He can consume the energy with which the cameo is imbued. This will negatively impact his health but strengthen his bond with Meresankh. 2. He can purge the cameo in a ritual. This will destroy the item as well as dampen his bond with Meresankh. It will also dampen his bond with Refhremmit; the two began to twine after Neheb's lifetime. 3. He can seal the cameo and carry it away. This has no effect on his bond with Meresankh. Rather it allows him to use it as a focus to further investigate his bond with Meresankh and, by extension, Refhremmit. This will likely lead to the bonds being dissolved in the future or to him fully merging with Refhremmit as originally intended. Either way, the cycle of reincarnation would be broken.

Unless influenced by others, Serot will choose option 1. He is a man incapable of letting go. He loved — loves — Meresankh regardless of their wrongs. He wants to believe the best in them. He is also haunted by his failure to save them over a millennium ago. It was not his fault, yet he blames himself. This is, frankly, not the best outcome for him. Refhremmit will point that out passionately even if the party doesn't.

#META / HC: PRIMARY. #I will proofread this tomorrow sorry #I just need to get it out #hopefully it's coherent

[yazaleearchive]

PART ONE - ANDREW

ANDREW doesn’t like the feeling of being owned, he loathes it. He wears the leather jacket, but he burned the logo of the club long ago.

He is no fucking one’s.

(It landed him in trouble with the upper ranks, but they know Andrew, know he’s probably the best enforcer they’d ever have. The bloodiest, for sure. So they let him roam free like a wild dog. If they leave him alone, maybe Andrew won’t bite them.)

This is why Andrew stays. He crashes at the chapter’s home base, a dark bar crowded with members’ bikes and shrouded in a persistent cloud of smoke.

That’s where he keeps himself hooked up on booze and cigarettes. On the harder stuff, too.

This way, Andrew doesn’t have to think. He can enjoy the numb pleasure of the substances, and fight those who get out of line - and then some more. The blind violence keeps him going, another kind of high he craves; like feeding the vicious beast in him.

He does not necessarily enjoy the biker life, but it’s all Andrew’s ever known. So he takes his kick out of the drugs and the fights and the blood, out of the meaningless sex and the cold nights alone.

A numbing cycle of familiar, immediate gratification.

He does like his bike, loves the thrill of the race. The possibility of his life ending in a split second. The wind in his silver blond hair, the speed grazing his leather jacket and his black armbands.

For an exhilarating moment, it makes him forget that he wants to die.

No, Andrew does not necessarily enjoy the biker life but at least, it keeps people away. Keeps problems away.

Until it didn’t.

#andreil #biker au #this is old sorry #i just need to get it out #i love andreil sm i wanna die #aftg

[poltergeist-coffee]

okay so everyone has seen the photos of slime from yesterdays qsmp stream right?? where it looks like he’s wearing eyeliner?? is it too far fetched of me to think he was wearing it because he was dressed up as gillion for jrwi or am i seriously delusional

#💬 one new message #it’s 3 am #i was going to draw him and this thought came to me #i just need to get it out #those pictures is all slimetwt can talk about rn #but i don’t think i’ve seen a single person on tumblr mention it lmao

[pricelessemotion]

my fingers slipped and i started another eddie wip

#whoops! #not sorry #this idea has been banging arnd in my brain FOREVER #i just need to get it out #mimi speaks

[joanieebaez]

i wanna fuck rolling thunder revue bob dylan

#don't look at this post #i just need to get it out

[unknownf]

I feel for Hector in Castlevania so much. I feel sorry for him, his character arc that the screenwriters seems failed to give, his hope and trauma, the way he gets barely any attention. (failing for side characters once again the history REPEATS)

He and Alucard is similar, in some way. Loathed by people, take hope carefully before being betrayed once again, and generally was rejected by the common group. 

But Alucard had someone, some people support him in the end, Hector simply never had the chance. He was manipulated by Camilia at the early beginning, and without any support (while Alucard was stumbled upon by Sypha and Trevor , who are KIND ), then lost forever in the vampire sisters’ mess.

#Castlevania hector #Castlevania #rant #sorry if there are misspellings #I just need to get it out

[daryfromthefuture]

Today I offer you...

...cheese. This is so extremely cheesy that I don't want to put it on ao3, but I also don't want the 2k words to be for nothing so I'm leaving this here.

It's just some post-canon Doc and Marty fluff. I also love rainy settings, if you haven't noticed already.

The night was unusually cold for a Californian fall. By the end of November, the leaves on the trees and bushes were colored a dirty brown, and the grass had lost its bright, optimistic green. Clouds had been collecting themselves up in the sky for the entire day now, hinting at the thunderstorm that was hitting the town for roughly half an hour already. The citizens were asleep, most likely lulled by the steady sound of raindrops and thunder.

Yet, Marty McFly, a seventeen year old teenager, was wide awake and standing in front of a run-down garage at John F. Kennedy drive. He was alone as he could be, at one AM, no one would be around to notice him and drag him back home. And Marty was happy about it - the last thing he needed were concerned gazes and attempts to take care of him.

He didn't deserve any of it. Not after all the screw-ups he'd made in two and a half weeks back in late October. 

His best friend, Doctor Emmett Brown, had used to live in this garage before the time travel adventure had taken place. The building had been Marty's second home, or just home, even. Somewhere where he felt safe, appreciated, welcome and loved. But now, thanks to Marty himself, it was empty.

It was his fault Doc had decided to remain in the 19th century. Of course, who wouldn't choose an intelligent woman and two quirky and smart kids over a quiet and dumb teenager who couldn't even follow simple instructions? And while Marty had seemingly done nothing but ruin the universe every time they'd traveled, it had been to Doc to fix it. Marty wasn't surprised that Doc was tired of him.

But the boy himself had never missed a person so terribly as he missed Doc Brown.

He slowly made his way up to the door of the lab, his wet hair hanging right into his vision. He didn't bother brushing it away as he heavily lowered himself to the cold pavement, staring into nothing. 

Marty considered going inside for a moment. The key theoretically was still under the doormat, all he had to do was open the door and step into the garage. But he knew he couldn't do it. The great memories he'd created in this building were too overwhelming for him at the moment. He didn't want to feel happiness when his best friend felt it perfectly without him. And he wasn't ready to see the once lively interior covered in layers of dust. He wasn't ready to go inside and be met with a practically dead place.

Thunder cracked above him, and Marty shivered from the cold that came over him. Reminded of how foolish and weak he was, he let out a pitiful whimper. What was he even doing here? Why was he here if it brought up so many things he didn't want to ponder about? 

Against his will, he felt tears burning in his throat and he tried his best to swallow them away. Oh, how badly he missed Doc. How badly he missed his laughter and jokes, his gentle smile, his way of explaining things, how he cursed when something didn't work, his saxophone playing, his warm and so comforting hugs…

Marty couldn't prevent the tears from falling. It had finally become too much for him. He tried his best to keep it together, to handle this situation like a man and accept the fact that Doc was done with him for good. But he couldn't. Not when everything still was so fresh. 

And so Marty McFly sat there, sobbing bitterly, at the doorstep of his best friend's home, soaked through and hands and feet cold as ice, in the middle of a rainy November night.

***

Emmett brought his second DeLorean time machine up to 88 mph, his plan being to grab some books from his old lab. His older son Jules had recently expressed an interest in science fiction, and since that genre wasn't as spread in 1893 as it was in the late 20th century, Doc had decided to make a quick trip and grab some great alien and space stories he'd collected over the years.

He carefully hid the car behind a Burger King billboard, promising himself to make it quick. He didn't want to risk the DeLorean being discovered. He jogged up to his old lab, smiling fondly at its sight. It had been a while since he'd last seen the place, and he suddenly felt that he had indeed missed it a little. 

He shook his umbrella in order to dry it up a little. He had surely chosen a fantastic day for his return, as it seemed.

Preparing himself for his mission, the scientist went up to the metal fence and was surprised to see that it had already been opened. He stopped in his step. Strange. Had there been an intruder? Or had something else caused the lock to jump open?  

But then he heard it. Sobbing. 

And it came straight from his door.

He frowned, puzzled. But as he went up to the entrance to the building, he saw a small, hunched figure sitting on the floor. 

Doc's heart skipped a beat. Marty. His greatest companion, his little future boy. His Marty, crying his big, kind heart out right in front of Emmett's lab. What had he and the DeLorean only done to this poor boy? 

At a loss for what to do, Emmett crouched down and set a hand on the teen's shoulder. "Marty?"

Marty flinched. Doc. Doc was crouched down in front of him, eyebrows furrowed with worry and a trace of tenderness. He was really there. Marty immediately stopped the flow of tears, extremely embarrassed. "D-Doc?"

Emmett ran a hand up and down Marty's arm. "Yes, yes, it's me. What are you doing here in this weather, let alone this hour?!" 

"I, uh, I-", Marty cursed internally as he choked on tears again and his voice cracked, "I wanted to- uh, get away from home and- and think about stuff. Didn't expect you to show up." 

Doc sighed with great sympathy. "Oh, Marty…" 

The boy quickly jumped to his feet, fiddling with his wet t-shirt. "I, um, I don't mean to be a bother. You wanted to go in there, didn't you? Please, go ahead, I'm not stopping you."

Emmett sighed once again before unlocking the door and stepping inside without another word. When Marty didn't follow him a few seconds later, he reached out and pulled the boy into the garage by his arm. 

"Doc! You didn't have to-"

"Nonsense!" Emmett interrupted him, "You're going to catch your death out there. Just look at you, your lips are blue already. And you're shivering. I'm not gonna let you freeze." He walked over to his closet, fetching a cozy sweater and a pair of pajama pants. He handed them to Marty. "Come on, go to the bathroom and change. Then we can talk about whatever is on your mind, alright?"

Marty simply nodded and did as Doc asked him to, not only because it was the inventor’s request, but also because he genuinely was cold and tired. He threw his wet clothes on the floor before returning to the living room.

There, Doc immediately wrapped him into a large comforter and picked him up, setting him on top of Doc's old squeaky bed. Marty didn’t protest, very well aware that he was in desperate need of this warmth and comfort. 

Emmett sat down next to him, stroking his unruly hair. Marty couldn't help but sniffle as he felt himself giving in to his emotions again. He soon sensed that he wasn’t able to hold it in any longer. Instinctively, he buried his tear-stained face in Doc's chest, letting out a heavy and heartbreaking sob.

The scientist held him tightly, knowing that it was best for Marty to just cry it out. He rubbed the kid's back as he shuddered with sobs, feeling his shirt growing damp with tears. Hesitantly, he kissed the top of Marty’s head, resting his chin on his hair. "Shhhh, hey, Marty. I'm right here, I've got you. Everything's okay…"

As Marty's crying didn't stop, Doc began to hum a lullaby and rocked the teen back and forth, adjusting the blanket a little. He could feel Marty relax in his arms and rest his head on Doc's chest, eyes closed. He wasn't asleep, Doc could tell, but the scientist noticed the dark bags under his eyes and he wondered when the last time Marty had gotten a full night's sleep had been. Emmett pressed the boy a little closer to himself, offering as much love as possible. Marty flinched as thunder once again rumbled above them. 

“I’m sorry,” Marty finally said after a bit of silence. “For making such a scene, I mean.”

“Shh, there, don’t apologize. I’m not blaming you for anything.” Doc paused. “I’m sorry, Marty. I’m sorry for leaving you when you seemingly needed me most.” 

The teenager actively shook his head. “No, no. It’s okay, Doc, I understand. You’ve got a family, what the hell do you need me for? I don’t want to be in the way.” 

Doc gasped. “Marty, great Scott! What on earth gave you the idea that I don’t care about you anymore?!” 

“Well, maybe the fact that you haven’t come to visit me in a month and- and didn’t even tell me if you’d ever be back when you left on the train,” Marty said sheepishly.

“Oh, Marty….I promise that this is not true. I still care about you and want you to be safe. I left you alone for a while so you can enjoy a few calm weeks without any time travel shenanigans. I never intended to make you feel unappreciated or forgotten. I’m sorry, Marty.” He pulled the boy closer again, still feeling the urgent need to hold him close. Oh, how badly he’d missed this teen during the past years. He’d missed him so badly that he hadn’t even really noticed it. 

While stroking Marty’s back and hair, he realized that he was close to falling asleep. Yet, he seemed to prevent himself from doing so. “Marty?”

Marty opened one eye, the sleepiness evident in his face. “Hmmmm?”

“You can sleep, it’s alright. I’m not going anywhere soon.” Doc smiled.

“Uhm, yeah, I-” Marty suddenly looked down, puzzling the scientist. “I really wanna sleep.” He sobbed again. “I’m so tired, Doc. But I can’t sleep. Every time I fall asleep, I see you or my family dying. Mostly you, though. I- I see you getting shot and bleeding out and I can’t do shit about it. I don't want to see that again.”

So Marty was having nightmares about their adventures. Doc felt a pang in his heart at that thought. How had he dared to leave this boy hanging? He gathered the teen against his chest so he could listen to his heartbeat. “It’s okay, Marty, I’m here. I’m with you, you’re safe. We’re both safe. I promise that nothing will happen to me, and I won’t let anything bad happen to you. Just rest now, okay?”

Marty nodded sleepily, snuggling up to his best friend and allowing Doc to wrap him up in the comforter like a mummy. The steady beat of Emmett’s heart and the warmth he was providing soon lulled him to sleep.

Doc gently held the sleeping boy, kissing his forehead the same way he did that with his sons. “I love you, kid. Sorry for leaving you behind for so long.”

As the rain continued to hit the roof and the rest of the town, Emmett silently made himself a promise:  As soon as he’d be back in the 1890s, he’d talk to Clara. Somehow, he was sure he’d find a way to convince her to move back to the 1980s - for the sake of the space-time-continuum, and the sake of his and Marty’s happiness. 

#bttf #back to the future #CHEESE ALERT #man what the hell am i doing with my life #i love platonic cuddling between them tbh #they deserve hugs #they are best friends THEY DESERVE HUGS #doc brown #marty mcfly #bttf fic #GOD what the hell ignore me #i just need to get it out #it gives me feelings #i am not normal #im so weird #OH AND DON'T TAG AS M*MMETT PLEASE #or else i will break into your home and steal your fridge

[ozzo-the-wozzo]

I am VERY tempted to post a rant I’ve been holding in ab a s5 bible leak bc despite me not wanting to acknowledge leaks on here, it infuriates me to such a degree I need to talk ab it or I’ll explode LMAO 💀

The leak in question isn’t that big which is why I’m tempted to post a rant about it in the first place and also I would obviously hide the rant under a cut + put the proper warnings beforehand, but like.. idk? Im still hesitant.

I guess I’ll decide tomorrow. I never wanted to post something in regards to a leak, but on this particular just can’t contain my fury any longer ya know?

(For those who read the ml Bible you should know what I’m talking ab since many were angry, but in case not it has to do w Gabriel’s identity reveal. That should tell you enough lmao. Also hope that wasn’t too spoiler-y I just felt comfortable in saying that since like I’m sure everyone knew his identity would be revealed at some point in the show so.)

#should I???? #like it’s already drafted… #I just NEED to get it out #and hear opinions lmao #but if no one wants me to I won’t #tis but a rant after all #I’ll live #miraculous ladybug #mlb #ml #ml spoilers #mine

[milkybottombergara]

Ok, i swear to god i am not trying to start shit, but that audience evidence with the person with the Professor plushie. That felt so fake, like most people send through videos and photos that may or may not be real evidence. Happy to give those other people a benefit of a doubt.

That one though? Feels like something from a creepypasta.

#my gut is screaming 'made up!' and it's very rarely wrong #i just need to get it out #i am a sceptical shitfish who believes in ghosts #i trust only Ryan