#and theres nothing in between

[oh-abhy]

the rdr fandom is so funny bcs on one side you have horsegirls who play dressup with arthur, pick flowers with him, make him the cutest little fluffball in existence, a little bbgirlyfied cutie patootie, and then theres sports lovin' 12yo boys who make him a cold blooded serial killer thats wanted in 14 states and 7 countries for the most heinous crimes imaginable

[alicerovai]

- Mobius, if I don’t make it back, I…

-You’ll make it back.

F*ck everything they’re REAL.

[peachcott]

[ aa ] reflecting / witnessed

[keefechambers]

I don't make the rules.

[tommygotwrittenoff]

crying laughing at the thought of buck inviting eddie to his dates with t because "he really needs to get out of the house" and t is like. fine with it he guesses. but at the end of the night t says pointedly "well, it's getting late. probably time to call it" and eddies just like "oh youre right bye t" and bucks like "bye t" and they leave together and t is just standing there like. wtf???

[bitchfitch]

So context: I have Ridiculously severe misophonia. If I could painlessly deafen myself I would, "all noise is evil" levels of noise sensitivity. It's too the point I can't tolerate being around other people because the sound of breathing swallowing lip smacking etc drive me up the wall and turn me into the joker in .1 seconds.

and it's not like, it's not a "I don't like this" type of misophonia, it's a "these sounds are physically extremely painful as is any volume above the absolute lowest amount possible (I have returned multiple pairs of earbuds for having their minimum setting still be painfully loud)

Ok, that's just my life. those are the cards I've been dealt and I've been making it work.

My shrink recommended concert earbuds. They're like normal wireless earbuds but instead of being electric, they have a small tube and a hole in them that effectively changes the shape of your ear canel when you're wearing them. So they filter noise without reducing volume or quality too badly.

It is fucking Night and day. Volume is still a problem but all the little sounds that were driving me insane and making me be constantly overstimulated are just gone. I can talk to people without immediately wanting to end the conversation. and be in the same room as my fishtank without the filter sounds chasing me off.

[fresanita]

Angel Dust Turns Human - pg3

tw - slight gore!

Part1

Part2

Beginning of how they met, YAYAY!🙂

Sorry about the quality again, I don't like how it sometimes cuts the drawings but I'll settle💔. I've never actually drawn human Alastor till now, but I do like how he turned out so o(≧▽≦)o!

In not gonna do the math about their ages, and I don't think it'd line up w/Canon, but ik Angel died around the 40s near his 20-30s so he'd had lived two decades prior. I'm pretty sure Alastor died around the 20s, not 30s, but that doesn't matter - the point is, Angel would've been a kid before Alastor yknow, died. (Don't take my word for it, I'm probably wrong, but in this lil comic, that's how it is😔) Angel's around 8yrs old and Alastor is somewhere in his late 20s or early 30s (teehee Alastor w dimples🙂!)

Angel playing around with a dead deers head WILL be explained, trust!🙏 I got the idea of domino's bc I think it's a nice game to bond over, also I just like the game and I remember my Dad teaching me how it works so FATHER AND SON MOMENT RISE!💥💥 Anyways, Angel's childhood won't align w Canon (sorry, so ooc, but I like it☹️).

Hope you like Human Alastors and Kid Angel's design🙏!!

[synthshenanigans]

I miiiight color this properly but have a funky soul design i did for fun :}

[close up + a small text about the guy below and then some]

While it is mainly just for fun & not my main design for Soul, i think Soul's form would change throughout Cacophony a fair amount. There's still some things it cant change but depending on its view on himself, Heart & Mind, or Whole would alter how his apperance looks. Not necessarily a bad thing either, just a form on how he feels or views himself. Kinda like when you make a persona i guess? He just swaps a lot between them.

Also smaller thing being that it's "tail" can change as well! More obvious being the relation to the instrumental album cover but also it can changed into other things as well. An Umbrella for Spring and a Storm, a gavel for parts of Mucka Blucka, TSE & The Bidding, or it being one of those bid cards youd hold up to bid your amount [also during The Bidding]. Can also change to the trident during TSE & The Bidding too, the red guitar in Two Wuv as well. Just generally whatever he want/feels like!

[gunsatthaphan]

"why do you let me yell at you?"

[todayisafridaynight]

[kiddokori]

where my kingkiller chronicle heads at. where my kvothe heads at. please where are you its so dark in here someone say something

[alpacacare-archive]

its DESTINY

[nyatbinary-81]

@vulpixisananimal sifstem art jumpscare!! more specifically i got bored and decided to mess around with sif and mal's outfits.

[tommygotwrittenoff]

i just think if roles were reversed and buck was the one saying those gay ass lines to eddie, eddie wouldve proposed like four seasons ago

[spicyraeman]

.

[seiwas]

hi sel!! i missed seeing you around dash - i hope you’re enjoying your lil vacation!

n for your lil game.. if it appeals.. may i suggest touya + rain/storm ?

scar hello!! sorry i've been on and off these past months 🥹 i missed being on here too!! i have been enjoying my lil vacation though 🥺 it's been a while since i've just chilled at home! thank you for sending in a prompt 💗

contains: fallen angel touya, visions in dreams, kind of disorientating what's reality vs not, reader tries melatonin, there is a fire

touya + storm

there's a storm outside your window.

the rattling of string lights on your balcony jolts you awake, the wind howling an eery melody. this weather is common at this time of the year, but tonight, you feel uneasy. you think there's something on your front yard.

your footsteps are light as you make your way down your staircase, the flashlight on your left hand clutched tightly as you reach for the umbrella by the door.

it's zero visibility on your front yard, heavy rainfall being dragged sideways by the wind. you squint, flashing your light at the area in front of you.

a broken branch from your neighbor's tree dangles loosely towards your fence, but you can't make out anything else apart from that. you contemplate stepping outside to get a better look, but a burst of light streaks itself across the sky, lightning flashing before thunder rumbles loud enough that it reverberates in your heartbeat. a sudden chill breezes over you, your skin prickling from strands of hair standing.

your flashlight flickers, the light going out once before you tap it on your wrist twice. and when it turns back on, you think you can make out a figure hunched over the shrub at the far right of your garden.

you flash your light over the area to get a better look but it turns black―your vision or the light, you're not sure.

the next time you open your eyes, you're tucked in bed, squinting your eyes at the brightness of sunlight.

a dream? you wonder. the jacket you're certain you reached for is still right by your vanity, untouched. could be.

your front yard is trashed, just like you expected it to be, if your subconscious was trying to tell you anything from last night's dream. plants are uprooted, with small branches scattered all over the grass. you suck in a breath when you spot the broken branch from last night just as you saw it―still barely hanging on as it dangles over your fence.

you must have heard it break off in your sleep, you tell yourself. the mind can be quick in associating these things.

things become weird after that.

you get more visions in your sleep, mostly when the storm beats heavy raindrops against your window. sometimes, they're the same as the first time―instances of you searching outside but blacking out and waking in your bed the next morning. others, they're stranger, more vivid. you see a man with white hair turning red at the tips.

he comes to you in flashes―in between lightning strikes and thunder claps; in fragments, distorted by sheets of rainfall. you can never fully make out his face, but his eyes glow a striking blue amidst the darkness that often surrounds him.

the melatonin makes it worse. for a few nights now, you've begun to see more of his silhouette, similarly hunched over that shrub from the first night, except it grows taller, almost as if he's standing.

you wake up every time he almost reaches full height. but were you even really sleeping?

your therapist tells you it must be stress. this particular time at work is busy, after all. and, "halloween festivities can be impressionable when the mind is tired."

so you let it go, hoping that the dreams disappear eventually.

but then you find a feather. it's long, far too long to belong to any animal you know of; the color is charcoal black, with its tips slightly crisp as if it's been burnt. you find it by the shrub, where the silhouette crouches over every night in your dreams.

your palms sweat as you handle it, a mixture of anxiety and fear. you feel sick to your stomach; scared and disoriented. what even is real?

you call your friend, midoriya, to keep you company. he's no cynic, but if anyone could think up an explanation for anything, it'd have to be him. he has notebooks and journals full of analyses and theories on a bunch of weird things.

"can you tell if he's... uh..." he tries to find the words, as if trying not to scare you, "demonic?"

though with how jittery he is, you're pretty sure he's just as, if not more, nervous.

"i don't know yet," you admit, setting down his blanket for the night, "i guess he does feel kinda angry, but..." you think back to those blue eyes, trying to discern the exact emotion in them, "not at me i think. i don't know."

midoriya jots down some more notes as rain increasingly patters outside your window. you're sure he'll spend the whole night figuring this out from the way he continues to ask you more questions.

that night, you dream of the figure again, but something about this time feels ominous; larger. it starts out with his face, lightning illuminating glimpses of his expressions. you see scars across his cheeks and his hair turning a shade darker. another crackle of lightning brings him further away, hunched over the shrub again, except this time, he begins to stand; and you're prepared to wake up again right before he shows himself in full height―except you don't.

he stands before you still concealed by the downpour, but his presence is simultaneously chilling yet glorious. and you don't expect it, what happens next―the unfurling of wings right by his sides. they span the width of your entire yard, large and so unlike anything you've ever seen before.

then, an alarm breaks, and you wake, neither in bed nor on your front porch.

your feet touch wet asphalt, the sensation hardly differentiating itself from how drenched you are by the rain. thick smoke fills your lungs as you stand before a blazing house a few streets down yours. sirens sound around you―an ambulance, a firetruck, and a police car, all managing the commotion.

people evacuate their nearby houses as the policemen round them up at a safe distance. out of everyone in the scene, you seem the closest of all, the heat from the fire nearly licking at your cheeks.

"everybody, please step back!" one of the firemen shout. to your right, another one hurriedly hauls a body down to the stretcher beside you. a paramedic immediately tends to the person before you can even catch a look.

"please step back!" the fireman closest to you calls out, but the sound is muffled in your ears, almost by a dull ringing and the subtle sound of wings flapping. an unexplainable urge pulls you toward the body.

"hey―!" the fireman tries to call for your attention, but you ignore him, inching closer towards the stretcher. you tiptoe to get a better look, and as you catch a glimpse of the body's face―

the fireman holds you by the shoulder, "i said―!" as another paramedic addresses you and asks, "do you know this man?"

and right there on the stretcher is him―white hair with red at the tips; his cheeks are an angry shiny red, like its been melted, burnt. he remains only semi-conscious, eyes half-lidded as he is tended to. but when you peer over, he blinks and manages to look at you.

you find the same striking blue.