sometimes when you leave a nonspecific comment like this i just
…Does that mean I can be a real Hufflepuff now?
adventurer, subset, cartographers and traveling music samplers/book scanners; we go to abandoned/isolated planets to put their culture back on the universe wide web.
all those books. *__*
i recruited them with books. the pilots and navigators are allowed to enjoy audiobooks because they probably must use their eyes to navigate with. our ship is an internet/library café in a wheel shape. you float when near the midde.
WE MUST DOWNLOAD THEM ALL.
I volunteer for this space mission.
"He died?! But this is supposed to be a KIDS MOVIE!"
Massively Underrated Movies [1/?]
Muppet Treasure Island (1996)
people aren’t evil, and people aren’t stupid. mostly, people are scared.
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The first week of being kidnapped was mostly spent weeping. Weeping for fear, weeping for horror, weeping for sadness, weeping for boredom. If Princess Samheid had been the theatrical sort, she may have tried weeping with the intent to annoy, but she was tragically bereft of such affectations and settled for weeping for sadness again. The tears ran out eventually though, and when they were done Samheid made her way down to the great cavern of the dragon’s hoard.
“I’m glad you asked,” said Knightsbane with a great crackling yawn, a small trail of fire licking the ceiling. “Most of your sort just cry for months until the ransom comes. Fetch that bucket in the corner.”
Samheid von Lochmate, Princess of Vande, Heiress to the Westmost Isles, Daughter of the Edge King, fetched the bucket.
Knightsbane, the Great Western Dragon, Destroyer of Legacies and Eater of Sons, He Whose Hoard Was Envied, blinked at her.
“You’re remarkably obedient.”
“Would you rather I kicked up a fuss?”
“No, don’t bother, it’ll just make me want to eat you. Bring it here.”
The bucket proved to be full of sand, fine soft grains that had the distinct pale blue shade of the Westmost beaches. Knightsbane nosed at it, tilting his head to see inside. Samheid tried not to rock back from his chimney-black breath and instead kept the bucket steady for him to inspect.
He raised his head and sneezed at the ceiling. There were blackened pockets and weird stalactites where previous sneezes had melted the rock. The burst of flame left the stone glowing slightly, orange layers slowly dripping down into new patterns.
Smaheid watched, fascinated, until she felt to burning weight of the dragon’s gaze upon her. It was easy to tell, considering the burning weight of his breath was upon her as well. Really, how could people claim dragon attacks were unexpected, when you could smell them coming from a dozen yards off?
She returned his look with a calm studying look of her own, the sort she used to give her tutors when they lectured. They locked eyes for several long moments until he snorted and swung his head over his back.
“Bring it over to this side.”
“Does the ceiling there need rearranging?” she could stop herself from saying.
He snorted again and thumped his tail over, body now completely curved away from her. His body was lit with the warm light of the fire and the gold. The riches of several kingdoms made a fine bedspread for his massive girth, shimmering in contrast to his dull blue scales. Samheid carefully picked her way through the treasure around him, skirting the edges of the hoard
I kind of want a prequel to this comic, where Bro first starts taking baby Dave to the Braj Stop. He’s learned that movie theaters and churches and offices and lots of other places offer to watch your kids, so he goes to his favorite store and asks where their childcare facilities are. They laugh, because c’mon man bros don’t have babies, but then they stop laughing quick because this is THE Bro Strider who’s asking, whose name is literally Bro on his driver’s license, who actually USES the hand-to-hand stuff they sell instead of just hanging it on a wall to impress chicks, who once broke the Tony Hawk skateboard simulator by tearing the board off the base and doing tricks that defied the law of physics.
They put Dave in an empty basement and tell the Striders it’s a ball pit.
That was thirteen years ago, and they’d seriously consider calling child services by now if he hadn’t spent like millions of dollars there over the years.
i don’t think this is how you horse, but i don’t know enough about horsing to argue
Somebody went to the Harry Potter school of riding.