In These Trying Times I Have Made Up The Concept Of A Star Trek Musical

Good Omens (2019)     *inspired by this

Ocean’s 8  Headcanon. 

Remember the scene in the diner where Lou’s like “Are you proposing?”  And Debbie says “Oh Baby, I don’t have the diamond yet.”

Well after their heist, Debbie kept one of the diamonds from the Toussaint and has Amita turn it into a ring and Debbie gives it to Lou and says, “Okay, now I’m proposing.”

Me: Actually writing

Also Me: HoLy sHiT i wRiTe A tHiNg?!?!

Me as well: *remembers I'm doing this to avoid studying for a test*

Me (now): *softly* damnit

The Beginning

This is it. My first post. I suppose it should be clever, or informative, or something personal. But. It's just a beginning. We've all got to start somewhere. So I'll just start here. Hi Tumblr! Glad to finally be a part of all this, be more than a ghost. I hope this blog can make you happier. Make me happier as well. So. See you soon, don't be afraid to interact or ask questions. Hope you have a good day, or night. Happy New Year!

#2020 mood

“You were once my one companion, you were all that mattered...” (Heaven Sent + Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again from The Phantom of the Opera)

                           ♪ Give me all your love now ‘Cause for all we know  ♪                                          ♫ We might be dead by tomorrow ♫

I'm going to be a little extra biased right now. I keep seeing posts about who the best people to help Tommy are and what kind of people Tommy needs to be around and I gotta tell you... They make great points about stability, strong fighters and people that will have his back.

And I don't care man. I'm wanting him to ride or die with Tubbo and Wilbur on this adventure. I want them to be messy bitches, sitting in Tommy's tiny obsidian safe room, and barely able to function.

I want Wilbur to be nothing but nervous fake laughter and digging his nails into his skin and Tubbo fluctuating wildly between grief stricken and edgy wealthy widower. I want Tommy to look at these people and wonder how the three of them even managed to have breakfast without someone dying and yet, still , feeling really happy and like he wouldn't pick anyone else to sit in a doom box with him.

I'm not here for calm and therapeutic and what's the ideal situation. I'm here for these damaged teenagers and their barely competent older bother figure to interact and squeak out a "not a loss" despite the odds being against them. They started this shit show grouped together and I want to see them finish it.

Happy Birthday to this adorable dumbass who owns my life completely!