#nevertheless i will not stop

[beatcroc]

At the part of the comic where it's like fuuuuuuuuuck its bad now </3

[xxplastic-cubexx]

you open my Super Important Documents and its just pictures of charles xavier

[hood-ex]

Batman: Urban Legends #23

[magnusbae]

On the rare occasions when Hob is actually mad at Dream— he refuses to sleep. Coffee, energy drinks and the God forsaken awakeness pills? All fair game. If he has to inject caffeine directly into his vein, he would. Hob doesn't often get mad, but when he does, he likes to make a point. Dream and Hob match in more than one ways, really, they do. And so it is that the Dream Lord must come out of his realm personally to sprinkle sand into his lover's eyes because he'd be damned if Hob refuses his gift for more than two nights in a row. Not speaking for 100 years? Easy. Hob refusing sleep? Unacceptable.

[chalkscrub]

day 1 fav oc: i can't separate them it's not fair....they drive me to madness a little bit which is great cause i can understand them better. featuring some old stuff and some new stuff i'm workin on

[tardis--dreams]

It's been over 2 years and i still haven't found a drama that captivates me with the intensity of beyond evil or the devil judge. I'm beginning to accept that nothing's ever gonna come close to making me feel this way ever again

[playoffsides]

eat shit bitch, you look fucking divine!

[deadpanwalking]

Sad to say I do feel like I got permanent brainrot from reading too much YA.

I think now that we've collectively retired that chestnut about the brain only reaching full maturity after 28, we can take the notion that YA brainrot is permanent out back and shoot that too. It's not like you've had a stroke and need to learn to walk all over again, you're an adult with the same inherent capacity for reason and critical thought as anyone else—just quietly find a collection of short stories or essays and read that, then repeat as needed until you're reading whatever you want. Simple as.

My grandmother was 60 when we came here and didn't speak a word of English. She was a very proud woman, but her curiosity to know what was going on and connect to people compelled her to read and speak as much English as she could, even as her literal “permanent brainrot” (dementia) made that increasingly more difficult. Meanwhile, you are presumably a native English speaker in possession of a public school education and a library card—get the fuck over yourself!

[sammygender]

convinced the reason so many hellers dislike sam is because they can’t handle what he reveals about the show especially late seasonish, which is that it’s a fucking tragedy and horror story, not just your adventure show romcom. not that dean doesn’t completely reveal that too! but if you’re watching with your eyes shut and you completely ignore sam’s character, you can just about make dean just out to be some silly guy with an angel boyfriend. i mean i can’t understand how you can but people evidently do. sam doesn’t have that. sam is deeply intensely traumatised. and people don’t want to think about that! because a certain amount of it is dean’s fault? because they get uncomfortable during some of sam’s arcs cause its icky and hard to deal with and don’t want to dwell on why? idk!! but they sure don’t. so they just. don’t <3

[chaos-squared-house]

Thinking about how he used to play games there all the time. Wonder what could’ve happened at that arcade…

Alternate version without the lighting :D :D (menace time cancelled, get sillied under the cut :3)

Uh. HELLO, my kirby peeps!! You may be wondering. What the hell is this Chaos? Who is this?? Erm, his name is Lewis. The cosmic horror eyes are metaphorical, be not afraid. I mean, you guys all know what sort of entities to attribute to freaky eyes, don’t you? :3 anyways play nice the wtdw fandom lives with us now.

[citizenerased77]

belldom because it makes me want to curl up in a ball and giggle and scream and laugh and cry and really just react in such a manner that is unfit in response to two middle aged men simply being gay 

[tamaharu]

my family is camping rn and they found an abandoned(?) cat and like. well if they take it home it doesnt do me much good at the moment as im living two hours away. but if .🥺 but if they take it home. 🥺but. 🥺🥺

[some-stars]

Did y'all know it's bizarrely and inexplicably difficult to find the full text of Dylan Thomas's "Altarwise by owl-light" online? A bunch of places have what they claim is that poem but it's only the first few stanzas. I eventually found one (1) PDF of his complete poems, and then I had to extract it from the PDF except I didn't have all the tools I use at work to make that take about three minutes total. FYI if you ever need to process a PDF thru your browser, the IT guys at my work (a very large, very risk-averse corporation) have us use ilovepdf for some tasks that acrobat can't do (but it can also replicate various adobe functions), so I'd recommend that as the least-likely-to-damage-your-computer free option.

ANYWAY the point is, this poem is SO good and SO important and SO cool, and it shouldn't be so incredibly hard to find, so here it is. It's long. I strongly suggest reading it aloud, and don't try to understand anything the first time through, just let it happen to you and really experience the words.

Altarwise by owl-light

I. Altarwise by owl-light in the half-way house The gentleman lay graveward with his furies; Abaddon in the hangnail cracked from Adam, And, from his fork, a dog among the fairies, The atlas-eater with a jaw for news, Bit out the mandrake with to-morrow’s scream. Then, penny-eyed, that gentleman of wounds, Old cock from nowheres and the heaven’s egg, With bones unbuttoned to the half-way winds, Hatched from the windy salvage on one leg, Scraped at my cradle in a walking word That night of time under the Christward shelter: I am the long world’s gentleman, he said, And share my bed with Capricorn and Cancer.

II. Death is all metaphors, shape in one history; The child that sucketh long is shooting up, The planet-ducted pelican of circles Weans on an artery the gender’s strip; Child of the short spark in a shapeless country Soon sets alight a long stick from the cradle; The horizontal cross-bones of Abaddon, You by the cavern over the black stairs, Rung bone and blade, the verticals of Adam, And, manned by midnight, Jacob to the stars. Hairs of your head, then said the hollow agent, Are but the roots of nettles and of feathers Over these groundworks thrusting through a pavement And hemlock-headed in the wood of weathers.

III. First there was the lamb on knocking knees And three dead seasons on a climbing grave That Adam’s wether in the flock of horns, Butt of the tree-tailed worm that mounted Eve, Horned down with skullfoot and the skull of toes On thunderous pavements in the garden time; Rip of the vaults, I took my marrow-ladle Out of the wrinkled undertaker’s van, And, Rip Van Winkle from a timeless cradle, Dipped me breast-deep in the descended bone; The black ram, shuffling of the year, old winter, Alone alive among his mutton fold, We rung our weathering changes on the ladder, Said the antipodes, and twice spring chimed,

IV. What is the metre of the dictionary? The size of genesis? the short spark’s gender? Shade without shape? the shape of Pharaoh’s echo? (My shape of age nagging the wounded whisper). Which sixth of wind blew out the burning gentry? (Questions are hunchbacks to the poker marrow). What of a bamboo man among your acres? Corset the boneyards for a crooked boy? Button your bodice on a hump of splinters, My camel’s eyes will needle through the shroud. Love’s reflection of the mushroom features, stills snapped by night in the bread-sided field, Once close-up smiling in the wall of pictures, Arc-lamped thrown back upon the cutting flood.

V. And from the windy West came two-gunned Gabriel, From Jesu’s sleeve trumped up the king of spots, The sheath-decked jacks, queen with a shuffled heart; Said the fake gentleman in suit of spades, Black-tongued and tipsy from salvation’s bottle. Rose my Byzantine Adam in the night. For loss of blood I fell on Ishmael’s plain, Under the milky mushroos slew my hunger, A climbing sea from Asia had me down And Jonah’s Moby snatched me by the hair, Cross-stroked salt Adam to the frozen angel Pin-legged on pole-hills with a black medusa By waste seas where the white bear quoted Virgil And sirens singing from our lady’s sea-straw.

VI. Cartoon of slashes on the tide-traced crater, He in a book of water tallow-eyed By lava’s light split through the oyster vowels And burned sea silence on a wick of words. Pluck, cock, my sea eye, said medusa’s scripture, Lop, love, my fork tongue, said the pin-hilled nettle; And love plucked out the stinging siren’s eye, Old cock from nowheres lopped the minstrel tongue Till tallow I blew from the wax’s tower The fats of midnight when the salt was singing; Adam, time’s joker, on a witch of cardboard Spelt out the seven seas, an evil index, The bagpipe-breasted ladies in the deadweed Blew out the blood gauze through the wound of manwax.

VII. Now stamp the Lord’s Prayer on a grain of rice, A Bible-leaved of all the written woods Strip to this tree: a rocking alphabet, Genesis in the root, the scarecrow word, And one light’s language in the book of trees. Doom on deniers at the wind-turned statement. Time’s tune my ladies with the teats of music, The scaled sea-sawers, fix in a naked sponge Who sucks the bell-voiced Adam out of magic, Time, milk, and magic, from the world beginning. Time is the tune my ladies lend their heartbreak, From bald pavilions and the house of bread Time tracks the sound of shape on man and cloud, On rose and icicle the ringing handprint.

VIII. This was the crucifixion on the mountain, Time’s nerve in vinegar, the gallow grave As tarred with blood as the bright thorns I wept; The world’s my wound, God’s Mary in her grief, Bent like three trees and bird-papped through her shift, With pins for teardrops is the long wound’s woman. This was the sky, Jack Christ, each minstrel angle Drove in the heaven-driven of the nails Till the three-coloured rainbow from my nipples From pole to pole leapt round the snail-waked world I by the tree of thieves, all glory’s sawbones, Unsex the skeleton this mountain minute, And by this blowclock witness of the sun Suffer the heaven’s children through my heartbeat.

IX. From the oracular archives and the parchment, Prophets and fibre kings in oil and letter, The lamped calligrapher, the queen in splints, Buckle to lint and cloth their natron footsteps, Draw on the glove of prints, dead Cairo’s henna Pour like a halo on the caps and serpents. This was the resurrection in the desert, Death from a bandage, rants the mask of scholars Gold on such features, and the linen spirit Weds my long gentleman to dusts and furies; With priest and pharaoh bed my gentle wound, World in the sand, on the triangle landscape, With stones of odyssey for ash and garland And rivers of the dead around my neck.

X. Let the tale’s sailor from a Christian voyage Atlaswise hold half-way off the dummy bay Time’s ship-racked gospel on the globe I balance: So shall winged harbours through the rockbirds’ eyes Spot the blown word, and on the seas I image December’s thorn screwed in a brow of holly. Let the first Peter from a rainbow’s quayrail Ask the tall fish swept from the bible east, What rhubarb man peeled in her foam-blue channel Has sown a flying garden round that sea-ghost? Green as beginning, let the garden diving Soar, with its two bark towers, to that Day When the worm builds with the gold straws of venom My nest of mercies in the rude, red tree.

-Dylan Thomas

[tiktaalic]

I would never be mad at a retail worker but it’s kind of shocking how terrible every best buy is staffed. First time I went the most stoned guy I’d ever seen was ten minutes late to my appointment and then spent ten minutes slowly running his finger down a piece of paper to figure out if the part I needed was in stock. It took him an hour to tell me he couldn’t repair my phone. Never took out any tools this was purely flipping through pages and websites. Went today and.

Cashier. Hi are you ready to check out

Me. Yes

Cashier. Do you have a phone number with us.

Me. Yeah it’s ###-

Cashier. Grabbing her radio. Bro I am NOT taking the next customer. You have to do it.

Me. Um. ###-####

Cashier. I didn’t catch that can you say it again.

Me. Yeah. ###-

Cashier. Grabbing her radio again. Hey I bet he’s gonna try to get a credit card. Watch. I bet he’s gonna get a card.

Me. Uh. ###-####.

Cashier. It’s what?

Me. ###-###-####.

Cashier. Wait. What?

Me. ###-###-####.

Cashier. Okay.

[y-vna]

Dear whoever is reading this, (whether a friend, stranger, however you feel right now even if you aren't sad..)

No matter what you're going through, and in case nobody told/reminded you today or ever..

You're enough

You're loved

You're beautiful

You deserve and are worthy or love and loving.

And so so so much more. You wouldn't ever know how proud i am of you ❤️

If anybody tries to tell you otherwise, they're wrong. To me, you are all these things :)

I hope this made you smile or at least feel a little better than you were before. I love you <33

- xx Ari (@y-vna)

[teddybeartoji]

MICKEY this came to me in a vision and i need to hear ur thoughts but…. for the vamp!geto x human!gojo x vamp!reader au………. 👉👈 mary by alex g. what r we thinking ;;;;; IM JUST. 

mary is the girl that i wanna kiss // she’s got big red eyes and big red lips // she’s got big sharp teeth and big fat hips …….. give it to me, baby, i feel good // i wanna feel whatever you think i should ………. AM I GETTING THE VIBES RIGHT ARE THEY THERE…… mary is the girl that leaves you to rot …………. they have consumed me genuinely

HIIIIIIIIIIII ARIII!!!! omg i love that song................ (alex g oughta start paying for my therapy smh) at first i had more darker songs in mind cue closer by nine inch nails and glory box by portishead and keep your eyes peeled by ultra sunn BUTTTTT when i this i immediately thought about their 'morning after' - i can totally see it playing in the background when gojo AND geto are lazing on the massive bed and the reader is getting ready and both of the boys are just staring at them with hearts in their eyes just absolutely awestruck

i think in geto's and reader's relationship the reader takes more of a lead yk they bit sugu anyway too. geto acts tough AND HE DEFINITELY CAN BE TOUGH but when it comes to the reader he can't help but be soft, let them do whatever. "she's the only girl i wanna love" i'm also thinking that reader helped geto out of a bad place with the bite too

with gojo it's definitely the "give it to me, baby, i feel good // i wanna feel whatever you think i should" he's sooooooooooo bewitched for him at first it's so much about the curiosity and the pleasure and the fun of it and he's ready to do whatever the readers wants

"mary is the girl that leaves you to rot" maybe the reader is a bit of a collector? both of the boys wanna impress them so much bc they're a little afraid that they'll leave them behind and find new toys to play with?