#and leave you alone a handful of times

[zombimanos]

Stalker part 2 I initially filmed these last year for my good friend, Leonarda, to give me her assessment. She always helps me wrap my brain around it all. In this message, this stalker continues to babble & even goes so far as to ask me to visit(?) for a week. We haven't spoken in 5 years.

[sergle]

You!! Hey you!! Are you looking for a pair of kittens? Do you live In Or Near Oklahoma? Do you wish you could listen to purring all the time? Do you want a cat that looks like an aye-aye?

long story short, we found these two kittens at the bottom of a garbage can!! I don't like to think about how they ended up in there- but we heard them crying while on a walk, and it's very lucky they were so loud! They were scared at first, but now they NEED to be snuggled at all times. Crazy how adaptable kittens are. I'd prefer to rehome them as a pair, but I'd consider adopting them out individually if that's my only option! Please IM me if you're interested in both/either of these babies, or if you have any questions at all!!

[hyacinthsdiamonds]

I'm sorry but the irony of Nico calling Max unprofessional is sending me so bad like sir there's an entire garage full of people, who were literally in the trenches trying to survive the Brocedes fallout while just doing their jobs, who might have a few things to say about your (& Lewis') level of professionalism at that time 😭✋️

[0vergrowngraveyard]

i wanted to practice backgrounds and i just reread @skimmingmilk’s fic chart a course to second chances for the millionth time so there was only one logical conclusion

[dailyloopdeloop]

DAY 75: onehat

[brucie-baby]

the thing about bruce trying to kill the joker is that people always leave it at 'superman stopped him', which is only partially true. superman does stop him but only during the assembly itself. as soon as he's inhaled all the joker gas, he says, "Batman, he's all yours."

he lets bruce have him, and he doesn't step back in until it's time to pull bruce from the water. maybe this is just because it took him a while to dispose of the gas, but i've always seen it as superman essentially giving batman permission of a sort to do what he needed to do.

maybe clark didn't know what bruce would choose - whether he would lock the joker up or put him six feet under - but he trusted bruce's judgement. maybe clark was sure of bruce's intentions, that he truly believed that bruce would do the 'right' thing. or maybe clark knew that bruce was going to kill him, and he took a step back. i don't know if we're ever told, and i don't think i want to know. i just think it's very interesting.

but bruce did fully try to kill the joker. nobody could stop him, and in the end superman didn't try to. the joker had literally been shot and the helicopter was about to explode and bruce left him there to die. the comic ends with bruce yelling to find his body, but thinking, "But I know they won't. That's how things always end with the Joker and me. Unresolved."

[radiocrypt-id]

I got- I can't!

Imagine being 15, you've grown up your whole life with this one belief in this one God and you were told you were Chosen by Him, for Him. And you're 15. You believe so fully in the spirit of your religion, not necessarily the word, that you want to go to a non-religious school to try and help other kids maybe find your God because you genuinely believe that could be helpful to some of them, because it's all you know, and it's helped other strangers (human trafficking victims she helped in the black pit before) so why not other kids her age? You're 15 and all you can think about is helping others. And you start thinking about your religion, and reading books, and asking questions and you come to the conclusion that maybe your God and His Father aren't actually all that great. Maybe the church you're in has done some really bad things that you can't possibly make up for. Maybe that church is still doing bad things. And then you find out your family is actually in a cult for that God, not just part of the normal church, and you suddenly have to undo all the cult shit in your brain you were raised with, while that cult stuff you know about is actually useful to your friends, like having that knowledge is helpful for them! You're 15 and you stop going home. You have no real adult supervision or carer, just your other 15 year old friends.

Imagine you're 16, you're gay and figuring that out on top of navigating your first full romantic relationship and being the sole creator and cleric to a new God that you honestly find to be very two dimensional and empty. You're on a quest to find an evil being and stop them. You nearly die. Your friends nearly die. You're 16. You're 16 and feel something calling out to you, you know it's divine because you've felt that sort of pull before, but you've never felt one like this. You find memories and hints and pieces and you figure out that the evil being you have to stop, isn't evil, she's just hurting. She's hurt and She's a God. She's your God, and she's so happy to see you, and she has so many ideas, and so many hopes.

You're 17. You've spent your rest time (summer vacation) tearing across the world chasing down and defeating another evil thing that you and your friends accidentally released in the first place. Your God is with you, you have no time for Her. No time for anything but trying to survive and stay sane. You know She's disappointed in you, but you're one person -ONE PERSON- and you're 17. You missed your birthday. again. You've saved the world; again. You're so fucking tired -like always. You're Chosen, and alone, and have no idea what to do with your life, let alone your God. You aren't very good at school, but you go to every class. You're drowning as you try to rewrite your understanding of the world from what you grew up with, having no idea how to do anything without a book and godly hand to guide you. You only ever followed before, your new God is demanding you Lead. You don't know how. You're only 17. You see your horrible, abusive parents spitting abuse and racist rhetoric at your baby brother, who you haven't seen in two years, on the front steps to your school and for the first time ever you are filled with righteous fury. Your God answers your call, not knowing what you need but so eager to help, eager for your attention, she starts talking to you but you're busy -why can't she understand that you're fucking busy? trying to not die, trying to be safe, trying to keep your friends alive, trying to navigate a world that hates you, you're 17 and you're busy goddammit just wait!- and she snaps back at you and flees. The next time you see Her, maybe an hour later, She's got a creature with Her that nearly destroyed you and your friends last year sitting in her lap, so smug to see you again.

You're 17- no, 16- no, 15 years old and you're expected to build and carry the world on your shoulders, Chosen from birth, raised a lamb to follow a Shepard, not to be followed behind. You have no one and nothing and everyone expects everything and you can't back up, you can't pause because if you do someone dies and doesn't come back. You have to be a hero, a chosen, a saint. The steps behind you crumble to dust with each step you take forward and the new one is already cracking under your weight. There are only wrong choices. There's no hand reaching for you. God, you were taught, will save and guide you. God knows best. Why is your God looking to you, a mortal human, to be saved, raised and guided? You're a child.

You're just a child.

You just want to go home, wherever that is. You thought it was your God, but She's not exactly helping you out either, is She? She's just disappointed. Like everyone else. Like you.

You're 17. You think it would have been better to never do any of this. It would have been easier to stay, blind and naive. Sometimes you think you should have stayed in heaven. Sometimes you think about the God you killed by not being good enough for it. Sometimes you lay on the floor and stare at the ceiling and pretend you don't exist for awhile. Sometimes you work your body so hard you forget it's there and your mind shuts up and you exist without being you. Sometimes you wish you never asked any questions or read any books. You're 17, but sometimes you wish you were 15, with no idea yet.

You're 17. You wish you were good enough.

[daily-crowley]

Crowley Of The Day: gorgeous 😍

(I used up all my hashtags that I couldn’t do my usual GO tags that I always do lol I don’t care)

[carlyraejepsans]

toriel... what are your toriel takes today

i have a headcanon that toriel has a hand-washing compulsion where she does it wayy more thoroughly than needed, instinctively trying to scrub under her claws even when they're perfectly clean because she can still feel the phantom of dirt under them from the time she dug chara's grave.

[iloveacronix]

The shit I be making for you guys is insane but its okay bc I love you all <3

Based on this monstrous masterpiece @guplia made

The skybound we didn't know we had </33 (CRYINGGGGG I CANT GET OVER THIS WHAT GAVE YOU THE REASON TO MAKE THIS UNHOLY THING)

@yourlocalkitkat @kyokittymeow @get-acronixed-meme @kronofobia

[krysmcscience]

I will be the first to admit I'm not the best at drawing animal or furry characters, but I wanted to get something scribbled down in my Non-Goof style, anyway. Plus, I've been enjoying the many reference pages folks were posting of their own designs for the Lamb and Narinder, so, uh. Here's mine, I guess! ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

do not comment on how long narinder's tail is or i swear to the lamb i will make it even longer next time >:]

[posalis]

playing "hit 'em up style (oops!)" in the background of the churros scene was certainly a choice.

[heartsquigz]

my fav siblings ever to exist actually

[feralsteddie]

Based on my lore notes for this post

(click for better quality, you know how tumblr is)

[ardenrosegarden]

Frictional Games was pretty funny for this one imo

[merakiui]

please share those sleep paralysis demon thoughts,, smth abt the raw horror + vulnerability is just. 🥺👉👈

It's a gradual build-up. Scaramouche likes to work his way up to a good, proper fright. <3 he starts at the door, a lingering shadow peering through a crack left just wide enough for you to see a pair of glowing eyes that never seem to blink, always fixated on you. You can't move or speak, so you're completely rooted in place in bed, forced to watch him watching you. You'll try to shut your eyes and ignore the chill in your room, and when they open again he's gone. Sometimes he moves to a corner of the room, other times he sits in a chair and faces the foot of your bed, staring so silently. He never makes any sounds; he blends into the darkness so seamlessly. Once you shut your eyes and sensed frigid air; he was right there, right in your face, undoubtedly watching with those eerie eyes of his.

You're relieved the sun chases him away come morning, but lately he's been coming regardless of if sleep paralysis seizes you. He's like a recurring nightmare now, bleeding into your reality so scarily well that you think you see him out of the corner of your eyes sometimes, waiting in the shadows of a dark room or down the hall when you get home late at night.

He lives under your bed, scratching patterns into the wooden frame of your bed or into the floor. You can hear him beneath you, sharp claws scritch-scratching angrily, crossing over one another in what you imagine are dozens of jagged lines. Sometimes you're certain you're hearing it and it's all in your head at night, but you check each morning and those marks remain, some drawn so deeply into the flooring that strips of wood curl up. You have no idea what he is or why he's doing this or where he's come from, but you intend to put a stop to this so that you can get better sleep.

You'll set up cameras, create a salt ring around your bed, burn sage, and do whatever else it takes. You think you've made progress when you don't see or hear from him at all one night when you're stuck in sleep paralysis. Everything is almost normal, save for the phantom ticking of a grandfather clock you don't own, or the weightless feeling in your limbs, as if your soul has been carved from out of your body. The scratching is gone. The eyes are gone. The cold atmosphere is gone. Everything related to that weird shadow-demon-creature is gone.

Until you look up and come face to face with him, his iridescent indigo eyes set into a too-pale, too-perfect face. There's a too-wide smile sprawled on his face, revealing rows of impossibly sharp teeth. His gruesome countenance reminds you of Kuchisake-onna.

“Did you really think you could get rid of me with your little parlor tricks?” he asks, tilting his head at you, wholly amused to watch your eyes helplessly flit all over the place.

You're unable to answer, and he knows this because somehow that sadistic smile grows wider and his eyes flash dangerously.