#AUGGHHHHHHH

[cosmiicchaoss]

do not think, do not speak, do not hope

[bumbleactuallypostsart]

day 4: wlw

Ily Lorraine anyways take this crappy drawing 😭

[ferocioustrout]

[benoitblanc]

do you ever just think about the fact that doggett had to physically tear scully off of mulder's body or are you normal

[deoxygenated]

my cousins life exploded and shes making it our problem

[bi-bats]

Lmao no context spoilers for Know Yourself

[devicecontact]

I feel like there’s something to say about how the very first song you hear in Ultrakill when you start the game is called “The fire is gone”. like right from the getgo even if you don’t get what it means yet or even are aware that’s the title it’s telling the player about it. Idk! It’s just cool to me and I feel like it could be better said but I hope you all get what I’m aiming at here

[loverboybrightsideghost]

have to change layout of comic millions injured twelve hundred dead

[totally-lyrical]

its SO GODDAMN SNOW where i am, i had to drive home from costco in the snow and. ughhhhhh. slid for the frist time ever since learning to drive. kill me

[zoolitsky-fandom]

@squidling2005

(familial/platonic)

missing home🍜

[inexplicablyhigh]

You don't understand YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND

Adam wasn't supposed to be the original Michael vessel! He was only brought back as a backup! And then used as bait for Dean! But in the end he still ended up being the vessel! Even if he wasn't the perfect one! Michael still took him! Maybe because Michael no longer had a choice, Dean wouldn't say yes! So in the end Michael chose Adam! And they were supposed to start the apocalypse! To bring paradise! And Adam was promised his mother if he said yes! But then they we're thrown into the cage! Everything was turned upside down! What did Michael say to Adam?? That his plan failed? That he's locked away with the Devil in a cage? That he may never fulfill his promise and bring back his mother? And maybe they were hopeful at first! God will come down and free them, they will continue the plan! And then Castiel comes down! First sign of hope! But only takes away Sam's vessel! Now there's only Sam's soul left with Lucifer! And he's being tortured, he's being burned, skinned, mutilated in every way! It horrifying! Does Michael let Adam see it? Or does he decide against it? Does Michael even let Adam know of the situation? Maybe he does! And so the torture continues until Death comes down to take Sam's soul! 2nd sign of hope! Yet when Michael finds out Death won't take Adam's soul either? That Dean chose to save Sam over Adam? How does Michael even react? He brought Adam down into the cage, he promised paradise, he promised his mother, Adam has done everything he should've! Yet he's here, stuck in the cage! Sam is freed yet he remains! What doesn't Michael even say?? At the end of the day, it's partly his fault as well! For failing Adam! How betrayed and hopeless must Adam feel? And maybe Michael swears it's his duty to hold up to his promise! For paradise! But maybe Adam is already hopeless! They're stuck in the cage, and both opportunities to be saved, Sam had been chosen over him! What more is there to it? They're done! But Michael can't bear to see his failure like this! He tries to promise Adam freedom, but Adam had already decided his stance! But maybe, Adam still has bits of hope left. Michael is the only person he has now! And they make a truce! That they'll be there for eachother! Because they only have eachother now! And then Lucifer is freed! How must they feel now?? How must Michael feel? That Lucifer had been chosen to be freed over him? That now, they are truly alone in the cage! Last hope for rescue, and LUCIFER had been freed instead! This is it, it's just Adam and Michael now, alone! Only eachothers company! And their truce becomes stronger! Adam is truly the only person Michael has left!

I like to think they had to comfort eachother, each time Sam or Lucifer had been chosen over them. One can't let the other lose it, they can't let the other lose their hope! Because they only have eachother! They only have eachother!! They can't lose the last person they have!!!!

I'm so ill!!!!!! I'm so sick!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[sporesgalaxy]

one piece will have me thinking "i should read more scholarly material on fascism so I can discuss it with sources" 3 hours after I said I love that Zoro barked like a dog that one time

[stressfulsloth]

Thinking about gym teacher Harry. I bet he was a fun teacher. I bet it was really easy to goad him into ditching the lesson plan to have a race day instead, or to turn the school hall into a mass dodgeball game, the whole class vs him and he'd still manage to hold his own. I bet he'd get roped into running so many clubs, staying late every day of the week. Running and football and rugby and gymnastics and dance, insistent that he's great at all of them. Getting involved in the pastoral care side of things because he cares so much about his kids, even if they're only in his class an hour a week. Using his dialogue tree skills on his students to try and find everyone some kind of sport that they love, trying to make sure no one is left out. And as he starts to slow down, as his chronic pain starts to get worse, starting to understand more and more why some of the kids don't really participate. Still pushing himself to participate in everything because he loves his kids and he wants to do the best for them, still running and lifting and throwing himself into competitions but losing more and more often, getting more frustrated that his body just won't cooperate, having to sit out and watch the kids play from the sidelines instead of hurling himself into the middle of the match. Sitting with the kids who won't join in, talking about their interests instead, about art and literature and entroponetics and finding something to get them hyped about the world...

[sneakupandhitya]

strawpage reloaded b4 i could finish. maritime hall creatures

[alittleannihilati0n]

@eternalchemy WHY would you leave this all in the tags

sometimes i think about when jordan called declan dauntless in the dreamer trilogy and then i think about both aurora and mor calling declan dauntless and i need to lie face down on the floor for five hours until i feel normal again

[barschter000]

Barok felt a new kind of completion, and under the weight of the jewelry, he straightened. The pendants shone proudly through the dim of the attic as if its place on Barok's chest had restored them to a glory no one else had been able to awaken before. ...It's the dust, Barok reasoned, I must have removed it by chance while I handled the stones. Merely the dust that had been lifted off everything, under which the necklace had waited and his eyes welled with tears.

I've not had the words to properly write recently but still wanted to do something with my fics, so I decided to illustrate a scene from my transfem Barok fic that I really like. More of it under the cut

⎯⎯⎯

He suddenly considered speaking a prayer for her peaceful rest in the afterlife, now that after all these years, the thought of her was so present in his mind again. But he quickly decided against it; her gaze from the grave was already more than enough, he did not need to call another pair of distant eyes on himself.

“Vergeeft u me, Moeder.” He opened the jewelry box.

Lifting the lid released a new wave of the attic’s endless supply of dust and Barok snorted. Still, the dust revealed that the old shimmer of gemstones and gold in the little compartments had survived: the bejeweled bracelets and ornate brooches, the dainty necklaces and hat pins; his mother’s preserved beauty.

His throat contracted. This felt immoral. This was immoral. He was robbing a dead woman, essentially. And what for? Uncertainties and impossibilities. He should simply turn around and go back downstairs and lock himself in whenever those thoughts arose again.

It hadn’t work, had it? The thoughts always returned. Barok hoped that a measure this extreme would banish them once and for all.

One piece of jewelry caught his attention.

It was a wedding gift, he had been told. A beloved necklace that his grandmother had passed to his mother when she had married, and was to be passed to his sister-in-law in turn. However, Klint had considered it a bad omen: he did not want to burden his wife with the tragedy that had been their parents’ marriage and death.

Klint’s precautions had mattered little in the end; and whether his prudence towards the accessory was reasonable or not, Barok thought a bad omen might be of use in the situation at hand.

The necklace was a delicate work of exquisite craftsmanship – pale blue moonstones suspended from a fine gold chain, smaller than his palm. His mother had worn it practically all the time that they had shared. He remembered her habit of fiddling with the chain, how it only got worse whenever she was told to pull herself together.

Not unlike himself.

Barok pulled out the necklace, careful to not awaken any more dust, and settled down at an old dressing table. Like the other furniture in the attic, it had not been used ever since the last woman of his family had left the house, and was now doomed to rot away in darkness. Barok just couldn’t convince himself to throw it out.

The light of his candelabra illuminated the grime on the mirror, half-obscuring his reflection. It was for the better.

One last time, Barok sighed. He opened the clasp and put it on.

It should have felt wrong, not familiar. Nostalgic at best. If anything, the sparkle of the gems could have evoked reminiscence of childhood curiosity, of plump fingers in his mother's arms reaching out to catch the reflections, of older but still bright eyes always darting back to the shimmering that he had been forbidden to touch – not this.

The coolness of the metal through his collar should satisfy the young boy of his memories. The weight should ground him, bow him down to pay last respects to his mother and to let the necklace slip off his head and release him.

Instead, Barok felt a new kind of completion, and under the weight of the jewelry, he straightened. The pendants shone proudly through the dim of the attic as if its place on Barok's chest had restored them to a glory no one else had been able to awaken before.

...It's the dust, Barok reasoned, I must have removed it by chance while I handled the stones. Merely the dust that had been lifted off everything, under which the necklace had waited and his eyes welled with tears.

He tore off the jewelry and threw it against the mirror.

Barely a second had separated that damning realization and the crack! and chink! of split glass and chipped moonstones.

Destruction had become a habit in the past decade. It was an addictive means to control – quick, effective, satisfying.

Finally he, the broken heart, was the one to break what he loved most. Finally he himself could choose his pain.

He struck the mirror. The shards loosened from the frame and dropped onto the dressing table; small pieces bore into his fist.