#inspiration struck

[holly-fixation]

I don't know why I thought this was funny but:

Over saturated hallway ✅️

Filled with Black Robes ✅️

And captioned ✅️

[drawbauchery]

[amostexcellentblog]

Later that night at the Hard Deck:

Rooster: Oh My God! THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?!?! WHY ARE YOU ALWAYS SUCH A MISERABLE PIECE OF SHI... *Realization dawning*

Hangman: Bradshaw? Are you faking a fucking stroke because you can't think of a decent comeback?

Rooster: *Suddenly noticing how his blonde hair seems to glow when it catches the light and the way his eyes sparkle when he's excited* ...Awww crap. *Turns and runs out the door*

Hangman: HEY! GET BACK HERE! I STILL HAVE 5 NEW INSULTS TO USE! INCLUDING TWO ABOUT YOUR MUSTACHE AND ONE ABOUT YOUR SHIRTS... Damn, well there go my Friday night plans. *Turns back to the Daggers* Rude!

[bookwyrminspiration]

do you think they have elven booktok. it has to be bad also

pov its 2am and you scrolled one post too far on elftok

[im-an-anthusiast]

Lights

Lights light up – my computer's screen

Lights, with them, everything is seen

Lights light up – every single scene

Lights, on them, I can always lean

Lights blind me, with brilliance

Lights, fractured into millions

Lights, breaking in all directions

Up till midnight, yours or mine

Go to sleep, please, for me it's nine!

"When you wake up, I will be here"

Go to sleep, please – meet at your nine?

Up till midnight, till we're fine

Lights, shining in all directions

Lights, unbroken, yet in billions

Lights blind me, with your brilliance

Lights, on me, you can always lean

Lights light up – everything you're in

Lights, with you, everyone is seen

Lights light up – my face; my dear kin

LOVINGLY DEDICATED TO THE EVER-SHINING @the-lights-are-loud

[ask-the-crimson-king]

The night is cold, and he is tired.

Firelight flickers and dances upon the walls. Quiet conversations are murmured somewhere in the distance. Laughter accompanies it, sometimes.

The night is cold, and he is tired.

The feeling of soft linens brings a measure of comfort. It rustles gently as he moves.

The night is cold, and he is tired.

Light dims. Starlight paints an infinite sky. Ink spills and bleeds on blank parchment. Words dance across its pages, continuing a march that had started hours ago.

The night is cold, and he is tired.

No more words are said. No more memories to be laughing over. Cold overtakes warmth.

The night is cold, and he is tired.

The words have long since stopped being written. The pages are dry, crackling as a great tome is closed.

The night is cold, and he is tired.

And he draws up the feathers around him, fashions himself a bed.

The night is cold, and he is tired, and so he sleeps.

He dreams.

The night is cold, and he is tired.

So he dreams of what the dawn may bring.

[skyward-floored]

I wrote another little scene with IAU Twi and the glasses, I need to be stopped

[worldsworstfemale]

holy shit i wanna change my major

[superfruitland]

okay okay okay i was gonna start doing the requests but i had a fleeting thought

[yaldabaothadeez]

[babydxhl]

[concern for others sentence starters] "i'll take care of it."

concern for others sentence starters | still accepting.

The rough scrub at her face succeeds only in sending a horror film slash of blood from her nose to the curve of her cheek, the heel of her palm slick. The split second fumble with her lighter gives her enough time to think — your hands are shaking — before nicotine floods her lungs.

The dead man between them is already going cold. Her gun on the cement is a dull shape amid the rainbow soap-smear of oil, rainwater, gutter-muck native to Gotham's alleyways.

"He hit me first," she says, voice steady, then sniffs once, feeling copper run thick in the back of her throat. Not a person, really, but a cop, out for blood and a bonus in the middle of the night. Mary Dahl takes a few steps back. The tiny glow of her cigarette trails smoke into the freezing air.

"It'll all have to disappear."

[wickedwitchofthesouth]

The blender:

I sit here perched up on your countertop collecting dust.

Red and silver and black and blue all at once just to admire. I've been loud and clear, but you haven't heard me in a while.

How beautiful my song used to be

Strawberries, blueberries, mangos, and pineapples. Milk and honey, chocolate and caramel, oh how we used to sing togther.

But it's been two weeks since our last duet. Here on the countertop collecting dust

You promised every day, and i believed we could do it.

Sing and drink and run from ruin

Now all I do is sit here and let my silver blades rust.

Here on the countertop, forgotten, I stop.

Here on your countertop.

[slut4converse]

i think the illegal aliens in jails should be given transgender operations. As a treat.

[averysmolkirbo]

IDEA THAT STRUCK ME AND THUS I MUST WRITE IT DOWN NOW BEFORE I FORGOR

REGIONAL APPLIN FORMS FOR DIFFERENT TYPES WITH DIFFERENT FRUITS ITS INSIDE OF

LIKE ELECTRIC TYPE LEMON APPLIN

LEMONLIN!!!

[siren--squid]

you literslly reblogged the coral post FROM ME and i didnt realise, until just now that "current events" is a pun. i just thought it was a statement. like yeah why wouldnt the coral be stressed ahout politics in 2024

LMFAOSFDGVGFDS

[delcat177]

The Sunday Grunk! The Sunday Grunk!

It loves when folks have thought and thunk

When drink and hygiene are eschewed

YOU'LL be the one the Grunk has chewed!

So listen, children, listen well

To avoid a Grunkish spell

Behold this potion!

That's the trick!

Water makes old Grunkies sick!

So quick with the water, quick with the soap

And that bad old Grunk will be out on a rope!

But that's just part of the magic spell

Your brainy-box must be washed as well!

So think about beetle-bongs in the trees larking

Imagine fine grizzlick couples parking

Sing up a song of pattles and snood

To soap away that grimy mood

Til all at once, finished, you cry out "I'm done!

Poo-poo to the Grunk!

I'm off to have fun!"

...

yeah that's fair