#He's doonstairs!

[da-riya]

@peopleofgelbooru

[odbuoyjemmity]

actually if wundersmith gets the nevermovie treatment too im gonnae need them to do the marvelous malau but it's the limmy bit where he tells that lad his mum's in hell

[asurrogateblog]

listen I’m sorry straight girls thirsting after jim morrison on pinterest but there is no way this man made it through the pearly gates

[kingjasnah]

hey no one told me tuvok has some psychosexual mind meld hannigram shit going on with a murderer who they are letting remain on board the ship indefinitely for the rest of the series for some reason???? wow surely this won't have consequences

[pepperpepperz]

let's pretend for a moment deidara is in ninja heaven

[ID: a pencil comic of deidara from naruto, kicking back in a cloud with his arms behind his head. he notices something and then angrily leans forwards and yells "?! that bitch stole my look!! asymmetrical bangs are MY thing" and it shows a picture of sasuke as an adult with his hair brushed over his left eye. /End ID.]

[sailermoon]

ran around hyrule castle for half an hour and didn’t find ganondorf

[corin-tuckers-left-one]

GEORGE PELL DIED 🎉🎉🎊🎇🎇🥳

[bonefall]

PLEASE make Whitewater be the one who kills Weaselkit. It would be so (tragically) cool, like just thinking about it reminds me of other amazing BB scenes like the Elderberry and Ferncloud scene but on a smaller, background character scale. It would also be a cool parallel type thing to Spiderleg who attempts to kill his son during the same battle. Obviously Spiderleg and Toadstep don’t personally care about the death of a non-Thunderclan kit, so it’s not like they would be aware of the other family murder happening, but WE would know. And we would be shitting our pants. (I’m a sucker for generational trauma and parents failing to protect their children in fiction please mister bonefall)

I HAVE to do it. It fits too well. It's absolutely shockingly tragic and horrrible. Hell opened up and Owlclaw's worst nightmare came lunging out. I have so many thoughts.

Owlclaw has had a whole life dealing with the neglect and abuse he went through, taking it out on others as a bully, and it's only now seeming to get any better

Mentor Oakfur being even more of a parent to him than any other apprentice he's had, knowing Owlpaw needed it.

Whitewater had FINALLY died. It hurt like nothing else, because in spite of everything he loved his mother... but he was FREE

And maybe she was, too. Maybe in StarClan she could watch over him, perhaps now with distance her memory can be something positive.

There was a time he might have wished suffering on her. But he's going to be a dad, now. He's learned that holding onto grudges never seems to do anything constructive.

He started his new life with Pinenose, still in their honeymoon phase. They're a young couple and everything is moving fast, they're welcoming two little twins.

Weaselkit and... Happykit. He still thinks it's silly, but he said it as a sardonic joke because he couldn't think of a good name and Pinenose beamed. How could he burst her bubble?

He has NO idea that his mother didn't ascend to StarClan. Shes doonstairs. He's daring to assume the best, and she's embracing the worst.

She doesn't need long to be completely onboard with Tigerstar's scheme. She didn't even need a discussion with Hawkfrost. The only reason StarClan would throw her down here is because there's a problem.

So, she'll put it right.

The IMMEDIATE validation she feels seeing Harespring training in the Dark Forest is intoxicating. They ARE cursed!! One of them already found its way here!

(AND the spawn of that damn TRAITOR, Crowfeather. The bastard who betrayed Mudclaw's coup.)

Harespring started training here out of curiosity, and a speck of heresy to be totally honest. He wanted to know his biofather, Mudclaw, and StarClan couldn't be all that wonderful if it would allow his brother Kestrelflight to be forced into the Cleric's den so young.

But NOW, having met Mudclaw and hearing his side of the story, and now WHITEWATER landing here as well...

...he has never had stronger faith in StarClan before. Mudclaw was horrible enough. Whitewater is unhinged.

There is no doubt in his mind that these two belong here. The sad stories are outweighed by cases like these, so in his opinion, there SURELY must be things he doesn't know about innocuous cats like Houndleap and Featherwhisker.

He hates coming here, every moment he's trapped with one of his bioparents is a moment he wishes he was spending with papa Torear.

Harespring betrays the Dark Forest the minute he has a chance to. But it doesn't stop Whitewater.

Weaselkit's death happened so fast and they were so young that Happykit can barely remember it. Was it after Dustpelt crunched? ...he thinks it was during.

I can't imagine Happykit will be told about Whitewater until he's much older, but... he knows Weaselkit's death is what drives the wedge between his parents

(Of course that's too simple to be correct. Happy's smart in the way that you get when you have to grow up quick, but still a kid at the end of the day. Owlclaw backslid into old, destructive ways. Pinenose can't handle him and their child and her grief at the same time. They were a young couple to begin with. It shattered like glass.)

I'm not sure who dealt with Whitewater during the Battle of the True Eclipse, but she is definitely double dead. Part of me wants to make it Spikefur, Pinenose's next mate. But Owlclaw dealing with his mother a minute too late, after FINALLY finding peace with it all, is also gut-wrenching.

[ordinarymaine]

hes doonstairs

[beyondtheepleasureprinciple]

linton thinking hes gonna join cathys soul once he dies oh honey..... shes doonstairs

[iphijaania]

where's that bourdain quote about never wanting to stop beating henry kissinger to death with your bare hands

[chocolatina]

seeing fanart that implies geto is in heaven is so funny.... he's doonstairs

[targetonthebullseye]

𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲

a GhostSoap one shot

based off of "Ghost Story" by The Narcissist Cookbook

"....To answer yer question...Ay love you." Grasped hands tightened a hold around a scorned knuckle, as a desperate blue gaze caught the attention of a murderer. Heart heavy, breath weighted, the military man contributed to his tangent-- all he wanted, all he needed, was for Ghost to just. Listen. "...Because ay have to."

"No, Johnny. You...can't--" "Nae, Ghost-- Simon. Juist...Listen. To me." Painful. It was painful. It was hard for the persist to look his partner in crime in the eye. Both pushed away their icks and nudges of tension, and saw each other-- truly spoke, and saw each other. It made Soap sweat from the pressure he had been silently casted to-- callously akin to being tossed to hungry dogs....But this dog wasn't hungry-- no. Not a lick. This man-- this dog across from him was tortured, burned, and bent, yes. But soft, attentive, quiet and friendly beneath his mask and keen, painted brown eye. He was serene, and he was perfect. And he was listening to him.

"...There es no 'why' aboot et.

Anymore than there es a reason why water vapor-- gathers in teh sky,

or-- or why the nettles in the garden dinnae go awa',

no matter how much the guy doonstairs tries teh keep them at bay.

No.

There is no 'why' aboot et."

No more listening. For a moment, there was quiet. But cold. This room, this sofa, window, table-- was the eye of a hurricane. It is quiet in the middle of the eye..It is quiet. It worried Ghost- for the first time in eons, it felt....He felt feeling- emotions on the tip of his tongue, swallowed to weight his pitted stomach.....It was fear, and worry, and it was hell. It was hell, and torture, to see Soap on the brink of distress, keeping his truest and rawest feelings to himself. He felt that-- Ghost...No. Behind the mask....Simon Riley felt that. Every bit of it...And it was hell. And then Soap croaked.

"There...Es a 'how,' ay suppose." His eyes were angle down amidst the isolating stillness, trailing up to Lieutenant as he did before-- iron lock, and baby blue, shining in the moon that peeked through the window, and the lamp that watched from beside. "Don't realle' understand et, tho--

maybe if ay dug aroond a bit in teh soil

ay'd find oot where all his love comes from

an' what it's for,

But then.....Then...The question would be answered..."

Pity. Oh, pity....And they both knew it- felt it searing into their veins like water invading drowning lungs, burning all means of breath. The air ran cold, yet hearts beat warm....They were still colleagues. They were still teammates-- nothing more....Nothing more. But he smiled- Soap, the short-tempered destruction....Smiled. And every second, Simon leaned over. He was listening.

"The ghost story would be over.

There'd be....Very little point in tellin' it aneh'more..

Right noo, ay'm just happy tae...Let it be."

He drove here. This all started with deployment, a coffee shop meet up, a week of passed time-- and a phone call. Soap had to talk, and he let it slip- Simons name, and three, simple, gentle words.....They had to talk. Not just he, they. Soap was in the car when he called, and it scared Ghost to know this man was on the road, crying- screaming into his phone like a depressed man on his dying legs. Immature, thought Soap....How he was acting...Was immature. But it was needed- Simon was still listening to his story. Shaky breaths and all.

"Let....You be you, and....Me be me.

Sleep til' noon, an' watch TV..

...Make schemes together...."

"heheh, oh Johnny, ya bugger--"

"Try not tae keep secrets from each other....

..Ay just-.....Hope to God we're right--....Ay'm right...When I say...

..I love you.

.....I just.....Enjoy being aroond you...."

No more listening. For a moment....It was quiet....But warm. A skulled mask lifted, and a rough, but plush lip finally gave in to its deepest urges. Simons stomach was freed of its pit, and he was released of his doubts, his worries....His Ghosts that haunted him so. Soap closed his eyes, hands leaving Simon's and rubbing up his strong, sturdy arms, to his shoulders-- and almost tickling Ghost as they delicately locked around his neck. Their connection only deepened, the lieutenants head turning and breaking the kiss- only to take a breath and to be pulled back in. They were listening, still listening...Hearing their hearts leap into their throats, catching onto their palpable and gentle hums, and their soft breaths as they broke apart....Closer than ever.

A cheeky smile painted Soaps lips, his tongue licking his canine with win. He did it...He did it. And Ghost loved him-- he listened to him....And he still was. Attentively, oh so attentively, Simon was gaping into a sea of calming water....It was his eyes....Oh, so beautiful eyes....What was this feeling- this arising swallow of security and embrace....He was....safe. He was actually safe....

"...And I don't think ay'm goin' anywhere."

"...What haunts tongues and lacks proof."

"Oh mah god, Simon....

Ah ghost story?"

"Me, ya cheeky devil...

....But tha' is funny."

"Hhahah!! Mm, figured."

"Mmmhm....

....I love you, Johnny."

"Even more, LT....Even more..."

[tobacconist]

the scary thing is that jimmy saviles birthday was on october 31st. the seventh son of a seventh son, with six siblings. i think he enjoys being a boogeyman now... down there... doonstairs. picture them. down there, partying. in hell. its cold at first, but it gets hotter the deeper you go. miners know this, and he was a miner, and (i hate satan) he knew minors. black as a coalman, but the soot didnt stick to him.

its revolting isnt it? and everyone knew. its a new free world! entertainment! do you know what witchcraft really means? picture them, down there. jimmy, jeffrey, rolf, and aleister. elvis is down there, and all the greats, and some beetles. the league of dead pedophiles. its a long and dark lineage. the sex, the violence, the music, and the witchcraft. I ADMIT IT. THIS CAMBODIAN HAG SOLD HIM CIGARS IN THE EIGHTIES. IM NOT PROUD. i sold daughters to him also. its a dirty business we deal in. my husband wears a black face and his lower parts are animal.

i didnt say that. some people wonder how strange thoughts and inspirations come into their heads. you know ;¬) you know though, really, dont you? ;¬) little whispers. its horrible. its evil. dont touch it! its evil! ITS GOT GERMS ON IT! dirty horrible people, dirty horrible lives. dirty horrible men, with dirty horrible wives.

it is a dangerous thing to let spirits inside of you. they can enter through your eyes, through your ears, through your nose, through your mouth, yes, they can also come in from down there also. and there as well. be on your guard, do not be ignorant of me anytime or anyplace. be on your guard. do not be ignorant of me.

but yes. a scorpion, under the foot of a child. crush it, crush it real good. shut up. i trap you in these words and then the people can look upon you, you worm, with scorn for thou art scorn-worthy. and mark ye it well, for hell is an horrible place, and she is horrible, and there is a place prepared for all horrible people, which is right horrible and grisly. LORD have mercy on us all amen+ hallowe'en is all hallows night, and after that is all souls. all souls. its often their one chance to come up and be redeemed - so beware. be on your guard. silliness is compulsory, by the mandate of heaven. be good and be kind, and beware; and always beware strange charismatic men with weird blonde hair, and smoke heartily because it is good for you :- thus said everyone, but none of them would admit it.

[shotofchinaco]

Paul Pressler, the monumental Southern Baptist leader and Republican activist at the center of a massive sex abuse scandal, died on June 7. He was 94. It’s unclear what Pressler’s cause of death was, but a funeral service was held for him Saturday in Houston. Pressler was one of the most influential, if lesser-known, evangelical figures of the last half-century, having co-led a movement in the Southern Baptist Convention that pushed the nation’s second-largest faith group to adopt literal interpretations of the Bible, strongly condemn homosexuality and more closely align with the Republican Party. His death came barely six months after he confidentially settled a high-profile lawsuit with a former member of his youth group who accused him of decades of rape. As part of the suit, at least six other men came forward alleging that they were abused or solicited for sex by Pressler in a string of incidents dating from 1978 to 2016. Pressler denied the allegations and was never criminally charged. Monumental as Pressler’s legacy was, his death was largely kept quiet until Saturday, when a Baptist outlet first reported on the memorial service. Last week, the Southern Baptist Convention held its annual meeting, and it does not appear that any leaders made any remarks about his passing.

[beesmygod]

Posting about the Mentalist and Limmy back-to-back reminded me of his Para-side sketches, in which he perfectly mimics a horrible TV medium. You must watch these, they are so funny

HES DOONSTAIRS