Are you serious right now? I’m a fully certified neurosurgeon. I can break into people’s heads and rewire their brains and tamper with their memory, no problem. But this? This juice box? This sugary drink marketed for eight year olds? No. Sticking a straw into this juice container is apparently just too much for me to handle without fucking it up. I’m done. I quit. Goodbye.
Pixars 22 Rules of Story Telling
9 is worth the price of admission, holy crap.
This is genius. So many great writing tips!
And this is why Pixar is a master in their field.
Why do I feel so weird reblogging this… this is the weekend dammit! Anyway, great advice.
Pixar you have no idea how much this actually helps me.
whats new pussycat!!!!
video i did in like 2 hours for 413. its midnight now, and im tired, and ill regret this tomorrow, but i hope you like it. i thought it was funny.
I needed this today.
This was great, and even better with Homestuck.
*prepares party popper*
*nervously shakes the party popper*
*slowly falls asleep with the party popper*
*has a wonderful night with the party popper*
*gets married to the party popper*
It’s a beautiful evening in February. My wife and I are sitting at the fireplace, when suddenly a terrible image appears on the screen of my computer.
My wife looks at me. As I look in her terrified, cardboard eyes, filled with tears, she takes a deep breath, before saying with her shivering voice “It’s what you’ve always wanted, dear. Do it.” My hands start shaking and a lone tear rolls down my cheek. “I can’t, honey. I’m not like that anymore.” “I will do it.” a small voice behind us says. As I turn around, my eyes cross with my son; our son. “You don’t have to do this, Benedict.” I say, as I hold his hands.
Ignoring what I told him, young Benedict Popper-Are Optional holds my wife’s cardboard body in one hand, and her long, beautiful string in the other. With tears in my eyes, I turn my head away. A loud pop sounds behind me and I watch in terror as I see my wife’s confetti spread across the room.
"It’s what you’ve always wanted, dad…" my son says, putting his small, cardboard hand on my shoulder. "Yes," I say, "but not like this… Never like this…"
what the actual fuck
why is there fan art
And lo, the gold brethren struggled against his eternal fate. He screamed for the one called Signless, speaking out over the crowd, “L37 GO YO3 P137432 07 2H17! L37 M3 GO 1M 743 24CR171C3, 172 4LW474 M3, 43 241D 20, L37 GO Y05 8U7G371CK3R2,”
But the Brethren’s voice was unheard, and would always be drowned out.
So a lot of people have theorized about what the Signless would be like if he was more like Kankri, but what if the Psionic were more like Mituna?