#how u doin

[beautyallaroundus25]

How u doin…💋💋💋

[digitalrex]

Just some quick little things I made, whee 💚

[beautyallaroundus25]

How u doin?💋💋💋

[ratatatastic]

one of these things is not like the other (finn by marriage)

[nosleep83]

Hey guys this is my bestie she’s new to tumblr and if you don’t cheer and clap for them I’ll blow this fucking building up

[peanuts-envy]

wanna see nasty porneux of that necromancer

[sapphire-weapon]

The biggest crime is RE4RE removing Weskers eyebrows and lips. he genuinely has none. AND WHY DOES HIS HAIR KEEP GETTING TALLER

>"removing" >implying they were ever there in the first place

i swear to god u motherfuckers just

come into my inbox and just fuckin tell fuckin lies

bec u want me to go dig up pictures bec u think it's funny

this fandom has been clutching their pearls and choking on their own panties ever since RE4make Wesker got revealed bec they're too much of fucking COWARDS to admit that Wesker was never actually hot, Wesker has always looked like your dad's friend from work that u don't like wearing short skirts around

it's just that now that he's photorealistic u all have to face the reality that u WOULD let ur dad's friend bend u over in that short skirt because ur all a bunch of fucking degenerates and ur afraid of the truth so ur brain makes up this fuckgin lie that Wesker used to be hot and he used to have lips and eyebrows BUT LOOK AT THE TRUTH THAT'S STARING U IN THE FACE

dON'T LIE TO ME

[nonsensefunsense]

Heyheyhryheuhellohryhihey

Heloooooo

[the-kirbe-anon]

*pops into ur inbox*

Poyo?

POYO POYO POYO POYO POYO

🎶 POYOOOOOOOOOOO 🎶

[jenoutof10]

our selfies

we're hella photogenic

[serial-kissing]

14?

Also I'm imagining controlling your lush as you validate my audios.

14. What’s your weirdest kink? to be honest I think I have pretty tame kinks, and also I can't think of any of them now that you ask ashkfhsg

[newmatrix]

GUYS HE'S ALIVE

THIS IS NOT A DRILL

PLEASEEEEEEEEEEE

[inkskinned]

you know, you know. no gods, no masters, no kings on pedestals. everyone is fallible. death of the author. you know! you are balanced about your intake of media - you allow the wiggle room, the grace, the gratitude, the skepticism. nobody above criticism.

but still. a weird gut-punch feeling, something akin to betrayal. you read the article. surprise! an author you love is actually: a serial fucking predator.

well, shit. what now. no, you knew he was a person (all people are), but now you're wondering - what have i overlooked by accident? what messages have i internalized that are strange and cruel? and also, like, what the fuck?

his actions lay a thick glaze on top of everything. like each place is now ruined, opaque in a new way. but okay, fine, you've done this before. you knew better, right? you've been betrayed by many a cherished childhood author.

still, this stickiness. fuck. can you pick up that book again. will you read it to your children. you've recommended it to others - will you ever do that again? and of course, of course, no parasocial relationships. you were theoretically above this kind of sentiment. but the artist informs the art, right.

so it's not something as clear-cut as feeling he owed you, specifically (a stranger) better behavior - just that you kind of, in a distant and odd way... sort of trusted him to do better. it's not like a real trust or something speakable, just the faint hope that the product (good books) was a thin representation of the soul. now it feels like the product (good? books?) was a mask. in some small or insignificant way, your previous support of this person lent them power. your money and your time and your laughter.

and the thing is - you have this terrible, echoing sensation. how many times will this happen? over and over. you find out that the singer you love is actually a predator. you learn over drinks that your favorite high school english teacher is in jail for what he did to her. you listen to the news idly and suddenly discover that a woman you used to idolize has been abusing her kids for an actual eon.

what can you touch without the static melting off. you can't even really complain about it too much (you were supposed to know better, and besides, you don't want the same re-split "it's not your fault, love what you love" basic advice), but now it's here. somehow, it feels like - you let him into your life.

it's not that things need to be pure or an artist has to be like, endlessly perfect, mindful. demure. it's more just this terrible truth that has been replayed through your veins so often it feels criminally vain. power corrupts, absolute power corrupts absolutely. did you want any one person to be worth that power?

it's just that he wrote books where he seemed to understand that. he seemed to know about hierarchies and unfair systems and bigotry and privilege. you thought they were books about what it means to struggle. you thought they were about having power and still using it for good rather than for control. he spooned you a narrative of being a good guy, a kind soul. you fucking bought what that fucking monster sold.

maybe that's why they were fantasies, after all.

[knaveofmogadore]

Hello yugioh blogs that followed me for the Marik nearsighted post. The boy is still blind and you are still here <3

[ratatatastic]

grimacing on the bench all by yourself handsome?

florida panthers @ boston bruins game 3 | 5.10.24

[beautyallaroundus25]

How u doin?💋💋💋